Three Nights with a Scoundrel

Page 15

“As long as we are being honest,” she continued, her gaze sliding to the side, “I have to admit that I find you attractive, too. Not that it should be surprising. Again, I seem to be in the female majority.” She smiled.
“So,” he said, groping his way down the escape hatch she’d opened. “We’ve established that we are two attractive people.”
She nodded.
“And that each of us, logically, finds the other attractive.”
“As is only natural.” She stacked her arms on the desk and leaned against them. “It makes perfect sense. I’m so glad we’ve had this discussion, aren’t you?”
Julian was stunned silent for a moment. That was it? Truly? He admitted to wanting her, and she confessed to harboring a few innocent fancies of her own, and then they just … moved on from the topic entirely? Could it really be so simple? She wouldn’t think so, if she could have seen him arching on his toes for a glimpse of her breasts just now.
“Er … yes,” he finally said. “I’m glad, too.”
“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.”
She opened it and scanned the contents quickly. “An assembly next week at the Shelton rooms, hosted by Lord and Lady Ainsley. You’ve already heard of it?”
He nodded. His own invitation had arrived weeks ago. The assembly would be the last major social event before most families adjourned to the countryside for Christmas. Everyone who was anyone in London would be there, and it was unquestionably Lily’s best opportunity to encourage suitors before the end of the year.
“You should attend,” he said. “Most definitely.”
Her eyebrows arched. “I should attend? Don’t you mean to say ‘we’?”
“Yes,” he forced himself to say. “Yes, of course. We should attend.” Why was it so hard to say that word? Putting the two of them in one syllable … it just seemed imprudent, somehow. In the same way he should avoid being mashed together with Lily in a small, dark, enclosed space. No telling what would happen.
“Oh, Julian, look out!”
He ducked instinctively, an instant before the parrot swooped over his head.
“Oh, Julian,” the bird squawked, coming to land on an unused candelabra. “Oh, Juuuuuulian.”
He glared at it. “Don’t ‘Oh, Julian’ me.”
Lily laughed. “I think I will keep him, if I may. He reminds me of you. Handsome, ruffled. Decked out in bright colors. A mimic.” Her eyes shone with merriment. “Perhaps I’ll name him after you, since he likes the sound of it so much.”
Julian couldn’t even form a response to that. No polite response, at least.
“The assembly,” he said, reaching out to tap the invitation. “We should attend.”
Her expression went pensive. “It’s been so long since I’ve danced. I don’t know if I remember the steps.”
“You needn’t dance at all if you don’t care to. You can always use mourning as an excuse. I’ll ward off anyone who pressures you.”
“There you go again. I don’t want to be excused, or guarded. I want to dance.” Her chin took on a decisive set. “Even if only for a few sets. Last night, I was unprepared for that party. So overwhelmed. This time, I want to show everyone I’m equal to the occasion.”
“So I see.” More than that, he sensed, she wanted to prove it to herself.
Of course she did. And why shouldn’t she? Just like the bird currently swooping from candelabra to chandelier, Lily had too long been caged by habit and grief.
She had a loving, generous soul, and she was not a woman formed for a life of solitude. But by pressing the idea of matrimony so strenuously, Julian had only given her more reason to build up a defense. If he truly wanted to be her friend, to see her settled in a happy, healthy future—to see her married—he needed to stop shielding her and start empowering her. Lily didn’t need protection from him. What she needed was confidence. Her chance to soar.
If he could give her that, Julian thought it just might be the truest accomplishment of his life.
She put her hands on her hips, scolding the parrot through a smile. “Come down from there, you cheeky thing!” Turning to Julian, she asked, “Did I leave the walnuts in the study?”
He nodded. “Shall I send a servant for them?”
“No. No, don’t. Let him fly.”
Yes, he thought as he watched her flirt with the errant bird, what Lily needed was confidence. And oddly enough, confessing his attraction had been a first step. He should have thought of it long ago. Nothing made a woman more desirable than an awareness of her own desirability. He could note the difference already. A saucy cock of the hip, a mischievous crook of the finger. The subtle drop of her shoulders that emphasized her bosom. She was aware of her body in ways she hadn’t been this time yesterday. With progress like this in a day’s time, by next week she’d have the men of London at her feet.
And yes, the reality of that would turn Julian into a snarling, jealous beast. But for Lily’s sake, he would take his turn in the cage.
“So will you help me?” she asked him suddenly. “Practice dancing for the assembly, just a bit? Perhaps tomorrow, or—”
“No.”
She blinked.
“Not tomorrow, and not just a bit.” Smiling, he moved forward to take her hand. “We’ll start right now. We’ll practice for as long as it takes. And then, at the assembly—Lily, you will show them all.”
Chapter Eight
Damn, it was good to have a direction. Real, physical work he could do for her. Even if that work was just shoving aside some furniture and rolling up the carpet while a parrot taunted from above.
Julian led her to the pianoforte in the corner. After removing an arrangement of lilies from the top, he ran one hand over the polished wood veneer. This was a remarkably fine instrument. Far superior to any he’d learned on in his youth. He’d never had a single lesson, nor even much opportunity to practice. But after a few hours sitting down to the thing—testing the keys and experimenting with intervals, learning how the contraption worked—he’d understood it and had simply been able to play. He could hear a tune with his ears, and his fingers just knew how to translate it into the proper sequence of keys.
Some said God had given him a gift. To Julian, it was much the same as his ability to reproduce voices—just one more function of having acutely trained ears. From the earliest days of his life, listening had always been his paramount task. He’d always been alert, always been listening. Their lives had depended on it.