Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(25)

“No one was mocking Lily,” Morland replied evenly. “You’re the one who insulted her.”

“Me? I insulted her?”

“Yes, by treating her like a child who needs tending. Lily is an intelligent woman, and not nearly so fragile as you make her out to be. She can handle herself. She was doing so this evening, quite capably. Until you arrived. That’s the moment she began to look miserable.”

The truth silenced Julian. Morland was right. She’d worn a broad smile when he entered, but she’d visibly tensed as he slid into the chair beside hers. She certainly hadn’t spurned the slimy advances of that Merriwin slug—a fact that should have filled him with hope for her marital prospects but instead left him hollow with rage. And the wounded look she’d sent him when he barked at the lieutenants to sit down …

Dagger, meet heart.

He knew, rationally, that Lily was a capable, clever woman who didn’t need his help. But when he was around her, rational thought grew wings and flew out the nearest window. In its place, protective jealousy reigned supreme.

He scrubbed his face with one hand. “Well. At least she won’t have to put up with me much longer.” He rose and moved to quit the room.

The duke asked, “Just how much does Lily know?”

“About what? About her brother’s dalliance with a low-class whore? About Faraday? My enemies?”

“About your feelings for her.”

That dagger piercing his heart twisted, grinding against his solar plexus. He was too stunned to dissemble. Morland knew?

“Of course I know,” the duke said. “And if even I’ve noticed, it’s the worst-kept secret in England. When it comes to matters of the heart, I’m not especially perceptive.”

“You don’t say.” Julian stopped, hand and gaze fixed on the doorjamb. For years, he’d kept so many secrets. Why was he failing so miserably at hiding this? If even Morland could tell, did Lily suspect? How could she not, after that stupid, disastrous kiss?

Three nights, he told himself. He just had to make it through three nights. Somehow.

“Nothing,” he said flatly. “Lily knows nothing about any of it. Nor will she.”

Chapter Six

“A louse!”

The ginger-haired lieutenant shook his head and tried again, dragging his fingers through his hair in affected swoops and every so often tossing his head.

“A milkmaid!” the youngest shouted, leaping to his feet.

In response to this, the lieutenant shot a death glare toward his young compatriot. He adopted a new strategy now, tucking his thumbs into his armpits, puffing out his chest, and beginning to strut about the room. As he walked, his head jerked forward and back.

Michael raised his hand to guess. “A bantam?”

The lieutenant gestured his encouragement. Not quite right, his motions said, but getting closer. He thrust his fingers into his hair again, ruffling it with vigor until it stood straight up in the middle. He pointed to his smart ripple of carrot-colored hair. It could not escape anyone’s notice that he resembled a cross between Julian Bellamy and a rooster.

Ah. But of course.

Lily called out the obvious. “A coxcomb.”

With a wide grin, the ginger-haired lieutenant touched a finger to his nose, then bowed and left the circle. Everyone laughed—but the three young lieutenants laughed most gleefully. Lily supposed it must be some balm to their pride, to have a hearty chortle at the expense of the man who’d given them such a rude and literal setdown at dinner. Had Julian been out of circulation so long that his polished charm had lost its luster? Or did he simply not care anymore?

From his seat beside hers, the commander touched her wrist again. “Well done, my lady. Will you favor us with a turn?”

She shook her head. “To be truthful, charades really aren’t my forte.”

“Then name your amusement.”

She hedged. Honestly, she’d never been much for parlor games of any sort. “Cards?”

The commander stood and immediately ordered the younger officers to set the room for cards.

Lily rose from her chair and moved to the window seat, taking a moment’s amusement from the heated discussion a simple rearrangement of furniture could cause, where five men were involved. And then, in the next moment, she wondered—again—about Julian. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ever since this morning, her heart seemed to alternate pulses between her own life and his. If only he’d stay in the same room for a while, she might be saved from developing palpitations.

A sober-faced Michael joined her at the window. “I can’t stop thinking of him.”

“Truly?” she answered, briefly wondering what cause Michael would have to be obsessively thinking of Julian.

“It’s just … so hard to believe he’s gone.”

Leo. He means Leo, you fool. Strange. For the first time in months, Lily hadn’t been thinking of her brother.

“I wish I’d been able to attend the burial,” Michael said. “I hadn’t seen him in above two years.”

“Didn’t you see him the summer before last? Oh, but perhaps you were at sea that July.”

“Two summers ago?” Michael shook his head. “I wasn’t at sea. I was in Plymouth. But no, I didn’t have a chance to see Leo. Wasn’t he with you in Gloucestershire?”