Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(81)

“No, no. Your wife is the soul of discretion. It’s your ward who can’t keep herself concealed.” He clapped a hand on Morland’s shoulder. “Listen. Do me—do Leo—this last favor, and you can have the horse. I’ll relinquish all interest in him. You and Ashworth can work it out from there.”

Morland stepped back. “Really. You’d surrender your share in Osiris?” Julian nodded.

“In exchange for me housing Faraday for the next week?”

“Yes. Just until this is all settled. But you’ll be guarding him, not just giving him a bed.” He cut a glance over his shoulder to make sure the man himself wasn’t listening. “I can’t shake the feeling there’s still something he’s not telling us. Maybe he’s afraid, and that’s why he’s resistant. We can’t risk him running off again, to Cornwall or God-knows-where. Ashworth can’t host him, and I certainly can’t bring him home to Lily. She knows nothing about this.”

“How long do you think that will last?” Ashworth asked. “I mean, here we are making plans for our wives to get acquainted. Do you honestly think they won’t talk amongst themselves?”

“So don’t tell your wives, either.”

Morland gave a bark of laughter. “If Faraday’s staying in my house, Amelia’s going to know.”

“And my own wife just traveled all the way from Devonshire with the man,” Ashworth put in. “She knows all about the attack and Faraday’s role in it.”

“Besides,” the duke said, “I don’t lie to Amelia. We tell each other everything.”

“As husbands and wives should,” Ashworth concurred. “Merry and I, we’re the same.”

Julian cursed under his breath. This was becoming far too complicated.

“Here, then. You each tell your wives the truth.” To Morland, he said, “You tell Amelia that Faraday is a former Stud Club member, stricken by illness and fallen on hard times. You’re hosting him as a favor, but she’s to keep it very discreet because Mr. Faraday wouldn’t want his difficulties widely known. There, all of that’s true. Isn’t it?”

The duke shrugged. “I suppose.”

Julian turned to Ashworth. “And you ask Meredith to keep what she knows to herself, for Lily’s sake. We don’t want to raise Lily’s hopes or anxieties. For all we know, this will come to nothing.”

“Fair enough,” Ashworth said. “So what are you planning to tell Lily?”

“Nothing,” Julian answered. A marriage without secrets sounded lovely for others, but it wasn’t in the cards for a man like him. “Nothing just yet.”

“Oh, how lovely!”

At Lily’s exclamation, Amelia and Meredith perked up. The two ladies wandered over from across the gallery, eager to investigate the object that had inspired such delight.

“It’s just a desk.” Lily opened the top of the vast mahogany piece. The hardwood panel swung easily on its hinges, flattening to a sturdy writing surface. Inside, she found neat drawers for paper, ink, and quills, two locked compartments, and an entire regiment of pigeonholes for the sorting and filing of bills and receipts. The sight filled her with an absurd sort of joy.

The gallery owner, a meticulous man in a pale pink waistcoat, appeared beside them. “An antique,” he said. “Belonged to …”

Lily missed the name completely. No matter. Whichever magistrate or dignitary had owned the thing in the first place, it didn’t belong to him anymore.

“Are you thinking of this for Mr. Bellamy?” Meredith asked, running her fingers over the smooth veneer.

Lily had to confess no, shaking her head. “For myself. We’re making adjoining studies in the new house. One for him, and one for me.”

It was high time she had her own space for recordkeeping, rather than always using Leo’s study. She’d already agreed with Julian that she would take responsibility for the household accounts, as well as the investment of whatever funds she brought to the marriage. For all her teasing, it seemed she was the stuffy, boring clerk in their relationship.

“I’ll take it,” she told the gallery owner.

He bowed with obsequious gratitude. “Very good, my lady. An excellent choice.”

Yes, she rather thought it was. With a grand new house to furnish, Lily was discovering a new appreciation for shopping. The company of friends increased her enjoyment. Over the past week, the three of them had spent part of every afternoon wandering the shops. Obviously Lily had known Amelia all her life, and even though they’d only been introduced to the new Lady Ashworth a week ago now, the three of them got on well indeed. Meredith was a sensible, plainspoken woman, with a heart for hospitality and head for business, which gave her something in common with Amelia and Lily both.

“Adjoining studies,” Meredith said, examining the hinges of the desk as Lily closed the top. “I like that idea. I’ll talk to Rhys about such an arrangement for the new Nethermoor Hall. He plans to meet with some architects while we’re in Town.”

When Meredith walked away, Amelia caught Lily’s attention. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you and Mr. Bellamy attending the Carstairs’ party Wednesday next? Spencer is reluctant, as ever. But if the two of you attend, I might be able to convince him. Or at least I’d be assured of having someone to talk to after he disappears to the card room.”