“You’ve had your share of married lovers, brother.”
“Only when both parties understand the terms of the … liaison, and hopefully no one gets hurt.”
He tried not to think about his recent experience with Lady Brenton, when his blithe confidence in their arrangement had been sadly mistaken. It had almost put him off fornication for life.
“Well, whoever she is, I wish her luck.” Anton set the newspaper on the tablecloth. “Do we have time for pudding? We’re not due at Musgrove House until three.”
Julian followed Anton into the drawing room of Musgrove House, where they found not only their two hostesses but their friend Mrs. Sheraton. As his brother was busy charming the Musgrove sisters, he went over to pay his respects to the rather eccentric widow. She had a classic oval face, dark hair and blue eyes, and a perfect rosebud mouth. She was brutally honest, happy to send any gentlemen who offended her running for the hills, and had the acid wit of a cynic. He enjoyed her company immensely.
“Mrs. Sheraton.” He kissed her proffered hand. “How lovely to see you.”
“Always a pleasure, sir.” She smiled at him. “Carenza tells me that Anton is on his way overseas.”
“Yes, he sails in three days.”
“Allegra will be devastated.”
Julian turned slightly so that he could see the grouping around the fire. Anton’s face was alight with excitement as he described something vividly with his hands. Lady Carenza was smiling and nodding, but her sister seemed somewhat distraught.
“I never realized she had a tendre for him.” Julian spoke more to himself than to his companion.
“Neither did she, until she heard he was leaving,” Olivia murmured back. “I suppose as you all grew up on neighboring estates, she just assumed he would always be there.”
“A terrible mistake to make.” Julian’s thoughtful gaze fell on Carenza.
“I’m sure she will write to him,” Olivia said.
“I hope she will. Whether he’ll reply is another matter. He is not the most reliable of fellows.”
“You are one of the very few gentlemen of my acquaintance who are capable of being objective about your family.”
Julian bowed. “I am a realist, Mrs. Sheraton. It seems I cannot help myself.”
Carenza came toward him, her hands outstretched. “It is always a pleasure to see you, sir.”
He smiled down into her hazel eyes. Her honey-blond hair was gathered in a high topknot with a single curl resting on her throat. She wore a modest lace fichu knotted over the bodice of her gown. She wasn’t an acknowledged beauty, having been dubbed too countrified on her debut by one of the unkinder patronesses at Almack’s, but Julian had always admired her.
“Anton insisted that he had to say his farewells to you and your sister in person.”
“And that is the only reason you came to visit us?”
“You know I enjoy your company, Carenza,” Julian said as she offered him a seat. “We have much in common.”
She went to ring the bell for refreshments. “Including my late husband,” Carenza said lightly as she returned to sit opposite him. “Although even you were unable to contain his excesses in the end.”
“I did my best, but Hector was …”
Mrs. Sheraton spoke over his shoulder as she came to join them. “An inconsiderate and amoral reprobate?”
“He had his demons, as most of us do,” Julian admitted.
“He had more than most, and they killed him in the end,” Mrs. Sheraton said as she sat down and spread out her skirts. “How you two were ever friends is a puzzle to me.”
“We met at Harrow when we were seven.” Julian shrugged. “We formed a bond to fight off all the bigger bullies.”
“Hector was never a bully, Olivia. You can at least give him credit for that,” Carenza said.
Mrs. Sheraton sniffed. “When one sets such a low standard, surely even Hector can crawl under it.”
