“I’m more interested in why you thought it a good idea to bring Lady Brenton with you.”
She studied his face. “I think she is involved with Walcott.”
“I already knew they’ve become friends.”
“No, I think it is more than that.”
“They’re lovers?”
Mrs. Sheraton rolled her eyes. “Typical of a man to jump straight to the physical. How about co-conspirators?” He stared at her, and she smiled. “My thoughts were that if you had the opportunity to speak privately to Lady Brenton, she might admit her part in this plot to ruin your reputation.”
“Why on earth would she choose to unmask herself to me—the very person she hates enough to want to destroy?” Julian asked.
“Because love and hate are very closely aligned, Mr. Laurent. Isn’t it obvious?”
“She’s not capable of love.”
“That’s rather harsh, wouldn’t you say?” She met his gaze. “Everyone loves someone.”
“Lady Brenton loves only herself.”
“Then you’ll have to find a way to use that against her, sir. You’re a clever man; you’ll think of something.” She inclined her head. “Now, I really must go and make my peace with Carenza. She’s been studiously ignoring me for the past half hour.” She walked away.
Carenza wasn’t particularly surprised when Olivia marched up and demanded her attention. Her friend had never been one to avoid an argument—in truth, she relished them. Usually, Carenza capitulated before the first blow was struck, but on this occasion, she wasn’t quite so willing to fold her cards easily.
“Mrs. Sheraton.”
“Good evening, Carenza. I suppose you’re wondering why I brought Lady Brenton with me.”
“No, I’m wondering why you came at all.”
Olivia blinked. “Good Lord, I really did offend you.”
“Yes, you did.” Carenza smiled. “Now, are you going to apologize, or shall we simply avoid each other for the next few days? I don’t want to spoil Julian’s house party.”
“You know I never apologize.”
“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.” Carenza half turned away.
“Wait.” Olivia frowned. “What about Lady Brenton?”
“I’m sure you’ve spoken to Julian about your intentions. He is your host and the one most personally affected by your odd decision.” Carenza paused. “I know you can be unkind, Olivia, but I never thought you would be callous enough to bring a man’s ex-mistress to his own home.”
Carenza turned and walked away. She didn’t care what Olivia thought of her, but she had to protect Julian. She glanced over to find him watching her, his light blue eyes full of some kind of emotion she didn’t want to examine too closely. He was her friend, he was her lover, and he deserved to be defended.
The housekeeper came in to announce that dinner would be served. Julian took his mother’s arm, but as it was supposed to be an informal occasion, everyone else simply filed in after them. Allegra was chatting away quite happily to Viscount Chartwell as he pulled out a chair for her. Carenza paused on the threshold, wondering where to sit. With the arrival of Julian’s mother and Lady Brenton, the numbers were not quite even.
“Lady Carenza.” Aragon waved at her. “Come and sit beside me.”
Carenza walked over and was soon settled in the seat next to him. Olivia, who was opposite her, winked before she turned to talk to Lady Brenton. Had her friend told Lady Brenton that Carenza was Julian’s new lover? Did that explain her presence?
Carenza looked longingly toward the door. So much for a few quiet days with Julian. The visit had become a nightmarish landscape filled with potential dangers to navigate. Should she have allowed Olivia to explain why she’d brought Lady Brenton, beyond the obvious? It did seem unlike her friend to be so petty.
Carenza noticed the footmen were being very careful about the distribution of the soup. In such a small establishment, the arrival of unexpected guests, especially at such short notice, must have put a huge strain on the kitchen. She declined the soup, noting the footman’s relief, and turned her attention to Julian. He sat at the head of the table, his head inclined toward his mother, who was speaking at some length.
He looked far calmer than she would in such circumstances, but that was his way, was it not? To keep that cool distance between himself and the concerns of the world. He’d never allow the presence of his mother or of Lady Brenton to openly annoy him and would navigate the week with the same steady calmness and outward goodwill.
Was she the only one who knew he had a temper at all? She moved slightly on her seat, aware of the throbbing between her legs and exactly who had got her in such a state. Despite all the potential problems, she still wanted to be in his bed.
