Julian followed him into the entryway. “You’ve had hours to dress and you still answered the door wearingthat? A bloody frightening sight. I suppose Mrs. West chased you from her bedchamber?”
“What do you mean? Ellie adores the sight of me in my banyan.”
“Does she? It’s true love, then.”
Cam turned down the hallway and entered his study. “It is, indeed.”
Julian dropped into one of the leather chairs in front of the fire—his chair—and accepted a glass of whiskey from his cousin. “Is Ellie asleep?”
Cam poured himself a measure and settled into the chair next to Julian’s. “Yes. She went to bed hours ago. You can speak plainly, Jules.”
“All right, then. Plainly speaking, you sent me on quite an adventurous chase this evening.”
Cam gave him a hopeful look. “A chase? Does that mean she wasn’t there, after all?”
“No. Sorry, cuz. She was there. I have quite a whorehouse tale for you, but I’m not sure you’ll find it amusing.”
Cam sighed, but he didn’t look surprised. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”
Julian took a swallow of his whiskey. “It was a strange bit of business—”
“Christ.That kind of place, was it?” Cam leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve heard stories, of course.”
“Bloody hell, Cam. Notthatkind of strange. I didn’t think the marchioness was going to appear, after all, so I was on the verge of disappearing upstairs with a little blonde wench—”
“For God’s sake Julian, whatever for?”
“What for?Think hard, Cam. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Cam dismissed this with an impatient wave of his hand. “Of course I knowwhat for. I’ve just never known you to frequent whorehouses, that’s all. But let’s have your tale, amusing or not.”
“As I said, I was on the verge of disappearing upstairs, eager to conclude my business when I was prevented by a sudden uproar.”
“An uproar? Was it one of those performances, where the ladies—”
“No! I told you, it wasn’tthatsort of strange, though now you say it, there was a performance of sorts, and it did involve ladies. Aristocratic ladies.”
Cam’s grin faded. “Aristocratic ladies?”
“Yes. There were four of them. Two blondes, one petite, the other tall and slender, and a fair-skinned redhead. I didn’t recognize those three, but the fourth—”
“Let me guess. Dark hair? Tall, too thin, and known to you?”
“I’m afraid so. My God, Cam. I didn’t truly think she’d be there, but you don’t look shocked.”
Cam shot to his feet, went to the sideboard, and poured himself more whiskey—a hefty measure this time. “I’m not. What happened?”
“They strolled in, seated themselves on a divan, pulled out four cheroots, and sat there and smoked them, as cool as you please.”
Cam downed his whiskey in one swallow. “Jesus. What else?”
Julian came to his feet and joined Cam at the sideboard. He felt a sudden need for another drink, as well. “Charlotte had touch papers with her to light the cheroots, so they obviously planned the entire thing.” He held out his glass and Cam poured him a measure. “You were right about it being a wager. The petite blonde mentioned someone named Devon.”
“Ethan Fortescue, Lord Devon.” Cam smiled grimly. “Yes. He was undoubtedly involved. Did anyone recognize them?”
Julian shook his head. “I can’t be sure, but I don’t think so. They wore masques. As soon as I discovered Charlotte I bundled her into a carriage and took her home.”
That wasn’t all he’d done, but it didn’t seem a good time to confess he’d dragged her upstairs to a private bedchamber, nearly stripped her gown from her back, and told her to hike her skirts. He doubted his cousin would find that information reassuring.
