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he received an unexpected blow from the Earl of Pembourne … and a beautiful, candid, and incredibly exciting woman who'd set his blood on fire and then turned out to be none other than Aurora Huntley.
What had begun as an enchanting diversion had disintegrated into a nightmare worth forgetting.
Except that Julian couldn't shake the memory of Aurora's shocked, pained expression when her brother had revealed the identity of the man in whose arms she'd been caught. Nor the way she'd turned to look at him—not with hatred, nor with accusation, but with bewilderment, as if she couldn't fathom how all this had happened. Her vivid turquoise eyes had searched his face, lingering on his mouth, and Julian had read the conflict in that transparent gaze as clearly as if she'd spoken it aloud: Why hadn't she somehow known who he was? How had a plan she'd devised simply to extricate herself from an unwanted betrothal turned out to be the biggest scandal of her life, hurting not only herself but her entire family? Worst of all, how could she have reveled in the moments she'd just spent in Julian Bencroft's arms?
There wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. No apology could undo the damage that had been done, nor could a thousand avowals that nothing had happened, that they'd each been unaware of the other's identity, restore all Aurora had lost. Not that her brother would have listened anyway. After delivering his solitary blow to Julian's jaw, Pembourne had grabbed Aurora's arm and whisked her out of the tavern in less than a minute. Julian had followed shortly thereafter, having no intentions of fueling the fire by answering any of the aged dowager's rapidly fired questions or the sailors' bawdy comments.
Still, he felt guilty. Aurora had come to Dawlish's to free herself of a betrothal, ready to sacrifice her reputation in the process. Well, she'd certainly succeeded. Doubtless the intended bridegroom—whoever this oh-so-proper viscount might be—would cry off the instant he learned of his future wife's scandalous behavior. At which point Aurora would have what she sought.
But at what price?
"Forgive me, sir." Thayer, the longstanding Morland butler, knocked on the library door, interrupting Julian's thoughts. "You told me to advise you when Mr. Camden arrived. He's here and waiting. Shall I show him in?"
Slowly Julian turned, wondering—as he had so many times in the past—if Thayer ever changed expressions or lowered his nose even a fraction. "Yes, Thayer. Show him in."
"Very good, sir." Thayer disappeared, returning shortly with a tall elderly man who clutched a thick, official-looking portfolio. "Can I get either of you gentlemen anything?" the butler inquired.
"No. That will be all for now, Thayer."
"Very good, sir." He withdrew, shutting the door behind him.
The older man inclined his gray head, studying Julian with equal measures of deliberation and concern. "Hello, Julian," he said at last. "I'm relieved to see you've returned. Not only to England, but to Morland. It's been years since I've seen you standing within these walls."
Julian shot a pointed look at the family solicitor. "Don't become too accustomed to it, Henry. I don't intend to stay. After we complete today's business, we'll resume our routine practice of meeting in your office."
"When you're in England," Camden clarified.
"When I'm in England," Julian agreed, gesturing toward the sofa. "Have a seat. What can I offer you?"
"Whatever you're having would be fine." Camden lowered himself to the sofa and watched Julian pour a second healthy ration of brandy. "You arrived in Devonshire yesterday?"
"Yes. I left Malta within an hour of receiving your missive. Thank you for notifying me so quickly."
"Had I been certain of your whereabouts, I might have reached you sooner, giving you ample time to arrive home for the funeral. As it was, I could only guess based upon your last correspondence."
Stiffly Julian handed Camden his drink. "It wasn't essential that I attend the funeral. As for finding me, I never know where I'll be from one moment to the next. Trust me, Henry, you're more closely apprised than anyone of my whereabouts. Including myself, half the time."
"You're looking well," the solicitor noted.
"As are you. I trust your business is thriving as always?"
"Thankfully, yes. I can't complain. And you? How have your recent … adventures been?"
A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "I'm not a pirate, Henry. All my business dealings are completely legal, if not orthodox. In any case, you needn't be afraid to mention them. And, to answer your question, my adventures have been quite lucrative."
"Good. I'll expect my ledgers to reflect that fact, then."
"And so they shall."
Self-consciously the elderly solicitor cleared his throat, obviously wrestling with his next choice of words. "Getting back to the reason you've returned to Morland, I'd feel remiss if I didn't offer you my condolences on your father's death—inappropriate as that might sound, given that I, better than most, know the differences that divided the two of you. Still, Lawrence was your father. Therefore, for whatever it's worth, my prayers are with you."
Julian traced the rim of his goblet. "You always were an incredibly gracious man, Henry—not to mention decent and honest. Why in the name of heaven you chose to work for my father, I'll never understand. Nevertheless I thank you for your kind words."
"My family has served yours for nearly seventy-five years, Julian, beginning with my grandfather and then my father before me. There was never a question as to whether I would continue in that tradition. Still, I won't deny there were subjects upon which your father and I strongly disagreed, most particularly those pertaining to the Huntleys and Lawrence's obsession with vengeance. Nonetheless I remained committed to serving him as honorably as I could. However," Camden added with a meaningful look, "that didn't include compromising my principles to accommodate him—even if asked."
"I understand," Julian replied, feeling a surge of admiration for Camden's integrity and candor. "What's more, I commend you." With that, he leaned forward. "Now, can we get to the purpose of this visit? I asked you to meet me here because I'd like to discuss the best way to go about selling this estate and putting the past where it belongs—behind us."
Camden frowned, opening his cumbersome portfolio and reaching in to extract a sealed document. "Before we do that, there's another matter we must see to first."
