Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(32)

“Excellent. Now, what’s this you’ve brought me?” Her brow wrinkled as she studied the canvas-covered dome he’d placed atop the desk.

“A gift. Every dried-up spinster should have one.” With a flourish, he removed the canvas drape.

“You didn’t.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, Julian.”

“Oh, Julian,” the parrot sang, bobbing its crimson head in agreement. “Oh, Julian.”

“Is he speaking?” Lily asked. “What does he say?”

“He seems to have taken a liking to my name. Or at least your pronunciation of it.”

“Oh, Julian,” the garish creature sang, rustling its blue-and-green wings. “Oh, Juuuulian.”

Oh, lovely. What an idea this had been.

He reached into his coat and retrieved a packet of shelled walnuts. “Here,” he said, pushing the packet at Lily. “He’s likely hungry.”

She shook some of the nuts into her palm and pinched one between thumb and forefinger, offering it to the parrot through a gap in the bars. She laughed as the bird swiveled its head nearly upside down to grasp the nut in its dark, hooked beak. “Wherever did you get him?”

“I lost a bet.”

“Lost a bet?”

“Yes. This fellow’s ancient, been passed around for years. He’s long outlived his original owner. A barrister supposedly brought him home from Jamaica ages ago.”

The parrot bristled. “Guilty, guilty!” it trilled. Its round, red head tilted, then righted itself. “Thank you, that will be all.”

“What does he say now?” Lily asked, offering the creature another walnut.

“He’s pronounced judgment on me, I believe. And I’ve come up wanting. No death sentence as yet.”

Clever bird. Truthfully, Julian had felt sorry for the poor feathered beast. It had been passed from gentleman to gentleman for years. Usually as the forfeit in some wager—loser gets the bird. No one seemed to want the thing, and he was beginning to understand why. The parrot’s vocal antics would be amusing at the outset but could quickly become a source of aggravation.

“You don’t have to keep him,” he told Lily. “I only brought him by because … Well, I felt I owed you some sort of peace offering. And I guessed you’d be drowning in flowers this morning.”

“Drowning in flowers? What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you seen the drawing room?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been working in here all morning. I told Swift I wasn’t at home to anyone but you.”

A genuine grin stretched his cheeks. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. He rose, lifted the parrot’s cage in one hand and offered the other to Lily. “Come.”

He led her down the corridor and into the drawing room.

“Oh,” she said upon entering. “Oh, my.”

From his cage, even the bird gave a whistle of admiration.

The Harcliffe House drawing room was, as drawing rooms went, a large one. Near palatial, really. And today it was full to bursting with grandiose flower arrangements. Roses, orchids, delphiniums in abundance—but overwhelming all of these, lilies. Lilies of every possible variety, covering every available surface and filling every niche.

“Between the parrot and the flowers, it’s a veritable jungle,” Lily said. She turned to regard the bird hopping madly in its cage. “Oh, do let him out. He must feel as though he’s home.”

Julian obliged, setting the birdcage on the floor and opening the door. The bird didn’t move.

Lily kneeled before the open cage, beckoning the reluctant bird. “Come now, pet. Take a turn about the room.”

“Guilty, guilty!” the agitated parrot squawked. “Thank you, that will be all!”

“Perhaps he’s timid in a new place,” Julian suggested, helping Lily to her feet.

“Perhaps. We’ll give him time.” She turned a slow circle in place, surveying the exotic flora. A laugh bubbled from her throat. “All these lilies. They don’t have much imagination, do they?”

“Perhaps not. But they do have unquestionably good taste.” Julian reached for a salver heaped with calling cards and hand-delivered notes.

She sifted through the correspondence. “I can’t imagine how word got around so quickly.”

“Can’t you?”

Julian knew how word had got around so quickly. He’d spread it. After leaving Morland House last night, he’d taken those lieutenants to every gentlemen’s club, gaming hall, and opera house in London, all the while leading them in a voluble discourse on the inexhaustible topic of Lady Lily Chatwick. Her beauty, elegance, virtue, good humor, and, most important of all, sudden availability. “It’s just as I said. The gentlemen are falling over one another to court you.”

“I’m not sure they’re truly interested in that. After so much time out of circulation, I suspect I’m more of a curiosity at this point.”

Julian didn’t know how to argue, because he suspected it was partly true. But once everyone had the chance to see how intelligent, lovely, and personable Lily was, idle curiosity would become keen pursuit.

“You should give some thought to the invitations.” He plucked a familiar-looking envelope from the heap. “Start with this one.”