Page 4 of A Hint of Scandal

“Then marry and take your inheritance and let me die a happy man.”

“You’re not dying yet.”

Julian pursed his lips. “Not yet, maybe, but one day soon. Very soon. And I’ll be glad of the rest from this failing body that exhausts me every day when what I want to do is get up and run through the woods here as I did as a boy. Believe me, Max, I shall not be sad to leave this world and find my rest. Although I’ll be sad for the family I have to leave behind. I wish I could have lived long enough to set Freddie and Rupert on the right path. You must promise me you’ll guide them well once I’m gone.”

Max shifted in his seat. This talk of dying had unnerved him. Julian had always been here, his rock, his admired older brother, who’d been almost like a father to him since their father died. Who, with the kindly, gentle Maria, had brought him up and set him on his path to what he’d seen as his life’s goal. A goal that had vanished in the puff of smoke of a musket ball. “You’re not allowed to die,” was all he could think of to say.

Julian shook his head as though exasperated. “I’m afraid you have no say in that. But if you can agree that I cannot avoid what fate has in store for me, will you grant a dying man a wish?”

This was so unfair of Julian. How could he refuse? Max fidgeted under the directness of his brother’s stare. If he agreed, though, was that not tantamount to admitting his brother’s life was ending? Something he’d been denying ever since he’d returned from Portugal. Something Maria was also denying, perhaps his mother, too.

“Well,” Julian said. “Will you?”

Max licked his lips, wary of commitment. “I will try.”

Julian laughed, this time managing not to cough. “How typical of you to add your own caveat. You’re more like Father than you think. No. That’s not good enough for me. You have to say you will.” His eyes sharpened. “And who knows but that you won’t meet the woman of your dreams and fall in love? Now. Give me your promise and make a dying man happy.”

Max frowned. “I will give you my promise if you in turn promise to stop talking about dying.”

“I can do that. Now, promise you will grant me my wish.”

“I promise.”

“Good. You know what that wish is. I shall think of you in Town attending all the balls and soirées and routs and picnics. They’re only a memory to me now, but I hold them dear in my heart because that is where I met Maria, twenty years ago.”

“I daresay they’ve changed a bit since then.”

“They’ll still abound with hopeful mamas intent on securing a match for their daughters. I’m sure one of them will suit you well enough.”

“That’s almost what Mama said. I’m not sure I can marry a woman for financial gain, and definitely not one who is a fool, which most young society ladies appear to be.”

Julian gave a rueful smile. They must both be thinking of his headstrong daughter who, truth be told, fitted all too neatly into that description. The girl was as empty-headed as a chicken, no matter how much her mother had tried to drum education into her. And common sense. She was not a good measure of what society young ladies might be.

Max returned the smile. “Although, as I have no desire to spend longer than I need in that melting pot of madmen and harpy-like women known as the Season, I shall in all probability affiance myself with alacrity to the first woman I meet who is neither a fool nor a shameless flirt.”

Julian shrugged his bony shoulders. “Possibly an admirable sentiment, although I can’t quite be sure, but don’t forget; time is ticking past. Love isn’t everything, although for me, it was. I could not have chosen a better wife than Maria.”

Max refrained from comment on this. Julian had fallen in love with Maria the first time he’d seen her, something he’d confided to the ten-year-old Max, even though she was a widow in her early thirties. But Max was certain falling in love lay beyond his capabilities. However, the sooner he found someone to marry, the sooner he could be away from London.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll do my best to find myself a wife so you can bestow my inheritance upon me. If that’s what will please you.”

Julian smiled. “Thank you. Now, perhaps you would be so good as to call Rumbold and Blewett to me, as I think I’d like to lie down for a while before my dinner is brought up to me.”