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Julie was seated next to Clydesdale again the following evening. That preferential treatment didn’t go unnoticed by many. They were all staring at them with either interest from the men or envy from the women. Clydesdale was clearly marking her as his, although other than supper seating, he associated with her as rarely as possible.
She wondered if this was how he saw their marriage. Spending all their days separately, reconvening during supper, and only for appearances’ sake? No. This would not be her marriage. Not that she planned to marry him in any case. She glanced down the table where St. Clare was chatting lazily with the ladies beside him. Lady Supe was not seated next to him this time, and Julie could see her glaring at him and his companions from her seat.
This morning Julie had overheard her talking to some of her friends, bragging that she’d spent the night in the viscount’s rooms. She’d said that he was staying in the family wing and even described the approximate location. That brief discussion had gotten Julie thinking. She needed to get caught in the viscount’s rooms. Lady Supe obviously desired to repeat the tryst with the notorious rake. All she needed to do was have her and Lady Supe appear at his rooms simultaneously. That way, she’d be caught in his rooms but spend little enough time there for anything to happen.
Julie had written two notes while she was getting ready for supper. One to St. Clare, to come to his apartments after supper, and one to Lady Supe, to meet the viscount fifteen minutes later so they’d be caught. Now, it was only a matter of delivering said notes and waiting for St. Clare in his rooms.
As the supper drew to a close, Julie’s knees trembled so hard they barely held her. Still, she held her head high and exited the room. As soon as the ladies settled in the drawing room, she discretely slipped the note into one of the footmen’s hand and asked him to deliver it to Lady Supe. She excused herself and walked toward the dining room to repeat the same trick and deliver a note to St. Clare when the door burst open. She ended up face to face with the viscount himself.
“Well, well,” he drawled and looked her up and down with narrowed eyes. “Eavesdropping, are we?”
Julie froze for one long moment, her mind going blank. She clutched at the note in her hand. The note she’d written in Lady Supe’s name. Which is why she couldn’t exactly hand it to him. But she didn’t want to stand there and risk running into Clydesdale either. Making up her mind, she took a deep breath and addressed the infamous rake as flirtatiously as she could.
“No, My Lord.” She smiled. “I was actually waiting for you.” She swallowed nervously, hoping he hadn’t perceived her to be lying already.
“Were you?” He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked a brow in question.
“It’s nothing to be discussing in the open.” She looked around theatrically. “Meet me in your rooms in ten minutes.” Julie put her hand lightly on his forearm and blinked up at him through her lashes.
The viscount smiled his slow and devastating smile that sent many young ladies’ hearts racing. Well, Julie’s heart was racing too, although for an entirely different reason. She was frightened out of her wits.
He nodded, then lowered his head so that his lips almost touched her ear and whispered, “See you in ten minutes, sweet.” With that, he pushed past her and disappeared down the hall.
Julie couldn’t draw a proper breath. She stood, frozen, in front of the dining room until the noise inside finally shook her from her stupor. Gentlemen were walking toward the dining room doors, and it wouldn’t do to be discovered snooping. She turned and rushed down the corridor and into the ladies’ room. She stood there staring at her reflection and praying, convincing herself that she was doing the right thing. After about ten minutes, she finally emerged and went in search of St. Clare’s bedroom.
She didn’t want to appear in his rooms too early. God only knew what would happen if Lady Supe didn’t come to his rooms on time. What if she never came at all? Panic gripped Julie in a painful vise. Surely, he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to. He thought she wanted to talk to him, didn’t he? Julie took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
She turned the corner to a long hall and wiped her sweat streaked palms on the skirts of her gown. This wing seemed to have even more rooms than the one she was residing in. “Closest to the far end, next to a huge potted plant and a painting of a ship during a storm,” she whispered to herself, reciting the explicit directions she’d overheard earlier that morning.
Julie passed several rooms she deemed to be too far from the far end of the hall. Almost all the rooms had some kind of potted plant next to them.
“Blast!” she muttered to herself. “It’s like a dratted hot house in here.” She tiptoed around the doors and looked carefully at the paintings, wary of running into any of the occupants. There was one with peaceful-looking waves during sunrise and another with a ship being built. She scanned the paintings and cursed again—no ship caught in a storm. Maybe the lady was mistaken, and he was actually in the west wing? No, she wouldn’t mistake that. All the guests were in the west wing. That wasn’t logical. Julie drew in a deep breath and tried the room next to the painting with peaceful-looking waves. It was the closest to the description she’d overheard, ship or no ship.
She turned the handle, and the door fell open. Julie looked around quickly before entering. These were definitely masculine chambers. The walls were dark royal blue; the bed was covered with blue and silver. The dark mahogany furniture complemented the interior. So at least she wasn’t in the dowager duchess’s room. Julie smiled to herself, imagining the duchess’s wrath if she caught her there. But her smile evaporated the next moment when she heard movement from the adjoining room. She slowly backed away from the noise, turned at the door, and placed her hand on the doorknob.
Before she could turn it and flee the room, she was stopped by a deep masculine voice.
“You are in the wrong room.” Julie swallowed audibly but didn’t turn around. “When you’re organizing a tryst, at least try to get into the right chamber,” her betrothed said in a casual tone.
Julie felt like a cornered hare. She had nowhere to run, no way out of this ridiculous situation. She did the only thing she could do. She turned to him, raised her chin, and looked him defiantly in the eye.
“You have quite the nerve.” He narrowed his eyes on her and slowly walked forward. “Cavorting with my best friend, under my roof,” he snorted.
Julie’s eyes widened in surprise. What rotten luck indeed. She hadn’t even contemplated that St. Clare might tell Clydesdale about her proposition to meet. How was she to know they were ‘best friends’?
“What, nothing to say?” Clydesdale raised his eyebrow.
“I didn’t ask to marry you.” She was surprised to hear her calm voice, although her hands were shaking violently. She clasped them in front of her, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I also did not consent to marry you.”
“No, you did not.” He nodded slowly. “Am I to take this little tryst as your refusal of my bargain?”
Julie swallowed, unable to speak. Since it was clear now that St. Clare would not ruin her, there wasn’t much choice, was there? It was either Clydesdale or Lansdowne.
She took a deep breath. “Don’t I have two more hours to decide?”
“No, sweetheart,” he said in a menacing tone. “Your little outing changes things. You have exactly ten seconds to decide, or I am walking out of here, and my deal leaves with me.”
Ten seconds. Thoughts rushed through her head. She would marry Lansdowne if she refused. She would lose John if she agreed. No, she would lose John either way. But she could still have Mary. She shut her eyes tightly.
