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Convincing the girl to give up an exciting career in the theatre had taken some doing. But once Julia had promised a genuine diamond bracelet for her efforts, Desiree had agreed, arguing only that she could not possibly leave the theatre until the current production ended its run. Julia suspected the girl’s loyalty sprang more from admiration for the silver costume she wore than anything else, but Julia had agreed, knowing she needed time to alert Alec to the arrival of this newest addition to his staff.
She glanced at Alec. “The new maid will be of immense help with the dinner party.”
The quill hovered over an especially blotched page. “What dinner party?”
“Lady Birlington seems to think we should hold a small gathering here. Nothing large, just five or so couples. I thought next week would serve.”
“If she says it is important, then I suppose we must. Be sure to invite Lucien, would you? He returned yesterday.”
“Of course.” Julia turned her efforts to balancing the letter opener between the inkwell and the paperweight and said casually, “It would be very small, just the thing for Desiree.”
Alec frowned. “Desiree?”
“The new maid.”
“Oh, yes.” He turned the page. “Sounds French.”
Actually, she suspected Desiree was from Cornwall. Julia frowned. Despite her belief that the new maid was a complete innocent, she could not rid herself of the idea that somewhere lay a trap. Nick was not the type of man to assist anyone, no matter how beautiful they happened to be. Still, it was gratifying to be able to help the poor girl and soon Julia would be in a position to help others like her.
Her heart swelled at the thought of hiring more servants. If all went well with Desiree, Julia would hire a cook, a kitchen maid, and maybe even a lady’s maid. Of course, she would choose only the worthiest candidates. It would be difficult, as they all deserved another chance. Deep in thought, Julia propped her chin back in her hand, her elbow jiggling the table.
The box clattered off the makeshift bridge onto the table and sent a spray of sand across the ledger. “Oops. Sorry.”
Alec regarded the trail of white grains that crossed the page and sprinkled the front of his black coat. “You, madam, are worse than Muck.” His gaze rested on her for a moment, traveling slowly across her face, resting on her mouth. “Only much, much prettier.”
Despite her determination to remain unmoved by his casual flirtation, Julia’s face flushed. “I meant to say something about that.”
He lifted his brows, a faint smile hovering over his mouth. “About how pretty you are?”
“No. About the new maid. Desiree was cruelly persecuted for her appearance at her last place of employment.” Julia scraped the loose sand back into the box, careful not to meet Alec’s gaze. “I just thought you should know.”
Alec sighed, already seeing where she was heading. Before Julia was through, they would be forced to remove all of the mirrors in the house lest they crack in horror. “Everyone suffers from something, Julia.”
“You don’t know how it is to be judged by your appearance.”
Hurt darkened her green eyes. Alec stared at her for a long moment, trying to discern whether she referred to herself. It was difficult to remember that the elegant woman who now sat across from him had once been a poorly turned out, dowdy chaperone. Dressed in a pretty pink-striped muslin ornamented with cherry ribbons and a graceful fall of lace, she would appear perfectly at home in the most elegant salon. He wondered if she even realized how attractive she had become.
Julia caught his gaze and offered a tentative smile. “I know you don’t like a lot of servants falling over themselves and getting in the way, but Mrs. Winston needs some assistance.”
“I hope your protégée is thankful you put her in the way of such a respectable position.”
“Oh, she is!” Julia stared at the paperweight, as if mesmerized by the lights playing across the silver surface. “I don’t know if you are aware of it or not, but there is a lamentable shortage of good help in town. Aunt Maddie and I alone know of three households desperate to find trained servants.” Julia folded her hands, met his gaze, and announced, “That is why the Society is opening a servant referral service. It is the perfect solution for the women.”
Alec caught the inkwell just before it, too, tumbled across the ledger. He placed it firmly out of reach. “Nonsense. You cannot pass those women off as virtuous housekeepers and maids.”
“Pass? Heavens, no. By the time we get through training them, they will be virtuous.”
“But how—” He caught sight of her expression. “You are serious.”
Julia’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “We had the most horrible time trying to find the proper employment for the women.” She chuckled, a delicious, throaty sound. “We even thought of opening a sausage plant.”
“Good God!” he said, realizing what a close escape he’d had. The idea of hiring out servants suddenly seemed more reasonable. He noted her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. It was amazing, really. His wife was thrilled at the prospect of teaching a group of soiled doves how to make scones and serve tea. Nothing delighted her more than her charity work.
In a way, it was a very lowering thought.
Julia propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin into her palm, a glowing smile lifting the corners of her wide, sensual mouth. “We will hire existing servants, excellent ones like Mrs. Winston and Burroughs, and pay them to do the training. Perhaps I should invite a few leaders of the ton to see how very well the servants perform and then—”
“Invite them? Invite them where?”
She turned a bewildered face to him. “Here, of course.”
Alec shut the ledger. “Julia, you cannot bring your Society work into this house.”
“Someone must sponsor this project, and it may as well be me.”
He pushed away from the table. “We cannot afford a scandal.”
“There won’t be a scandal. All we have to do is find one or two genteel women and train them to—”
“They are not genteel women, Julia. They are prostitutes and whores. You cannot change that.”
She stiffened. “They are reformed women, Alec. Forced by circumstances to do what was necessary to survive.”
For a second, a pang of something uncomfortably close to jealousy pinched at him. He wondered what would happen if she ever committed her heart to him with the same fervor she spent on her reform efforts.
Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. “I am not saying these women didn’t have a reason for what they did, nor am I suggesting they don’t deserve your compassion. It’s just that you cannot continually foist your projects onto the ton.”
“But the Society—”
“The Society knows you as Julia Frant, not Viscountess Hunterston.” He frowned. “I must have been crazed to have allowed even that. If I’d thought you would carry this so far, I would have put an end to your association with the Society from the first.”
She stood, eyes flashing sparks of outrage. “Of all the insufferable….” Her hands balled into fists. “I should remind you that it was my idea to keep my identity concealed. And that was only because you were concerned there would be talk about my visits to Whitechapel.”
Alec’s determination rose to meet hers. The season would be over in less than a month and the majority of their social responsibilities would be at an end. They were too close to success to take chances.
He shoved back his chair and faced her, hands splayed across the desk. “If the Society decides to pursue this path, Julia, it will be without you. The cost is too high. You won’t be able to help anyone if we lose the funds.”
That froze her in her place. He sat down, pulling the ledger to him. “Get dressed, madam. Lady Birlington awaits us at Almack’s. The doors close at eleven.”
A frosty silence met his command, but he forced himself to keep his gaze on the ledger before him, holding the quill so tightly that it bent.
As soon as it closed, Alec tossed down the broken quill and raked a hand through his hair. He had little doubt he could have won the argument based on sheer logic, but it was a relief not to have to engage Julia in battle. She would fight to her last breath and confound him with emotional appeals until he forgot his purpose—something he could not afford to do.
Sighing heavily, he pushed the ledger away, the leather cover grating on the sandy surface of his desk. Life with Julia was filled with unexpected twists and turns—not all of them pleasant, but at least there was never a minute of boredom. Between her disrupting his household with street urchins, firing his chef, and blithely stumbling from one potential scandal to the next, Alec was never sure what each day would bring.
But he had dealt well with her this evening, he thought, suddenly proud he had stood firm. She had presented him with one of her outlandish ideas and he had told her no, just as a husband should. An odd feeling of triumph flittered through him, and yet…he glanced at the door.
He could not reconcile himself with Julia’s sudden acquiescence. Somehow, he knew he hadn’t heard the last of this.
Chapter 20
His face pinched with disapproval, Chilton replaced the stack of neatly starched cravats in the wardrobe. “Someone has applied too much starch to the linens.” He shot a telling glance at Alec. “Of course, considering everything Mrs. Winston has had to deal with, it is hardly surprising to see such an error occur.”
Alec continued to tie his cravat. He had enough on his mind without worrying about Chilton’s tendency toward high drama.
Julia had been noticeably cool to him following their argument, not speaking a word the entire way to Almack’s and studiously avoiding his presence in the days that followed. It had been almost a week now, and still his stubborn wife showed no signs of relenting.
He was not surprised; Julia was a strong, independent woman and it must be galling to admit defeat. He placed a sapphire pin in the folds of his cravat and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Julia might be able to maintain a frosty silence for an entire week, but she could not control her response to his touch.
Of course, he’d made a point of making each kiss the zenith of seduction, pushing both his control and her passion to the pinnacle of pleasure and frustration. Perhaps today he would see if he could move past a mere kiss. Perhaps today, he would discover how much of her anger he could fan into the hot blaze of passion. Humming softly, he buttoned his waistcoat.
Chilton shut the wardrobe with a sharp snap. “My lord, I must say something. The entire household is in an uproar and it is unbearable. Things simply cannot continue, or I….” He stopped, unable to continue, his mouth quivering with emotion.
“Are you threatening to leave, Chilton?”
“No, my lord! I would never leave your employ.” The valet waited a telling moment before adding, “Regardless of the number of vulgar persons allowed into your house.”
Alec offered no comment. He shrugged into the coat the valet held ready and then smoothed the sleeves, waiting.
After an apparent struggle, Chilton burst out, “It is the new maid, sir. Lady Hunterston brought her yesterday afternoon and she is unfit. Something must be done.”
Ah, Julia’s homely maid had arrived and offended Chilton’s delicate sensibilities. For some reason, the thought amused Alec. Just to goad the stuffy valet further, he remarked, “Lady Hunterston mentioned her. Taking thing, isn’t she?”
Chilton met his gaze reproachfully. “I would venture to suggest many would find her so. However, her conduct makes one question—” He broke off, his long nose quivering in outrage.
Alarm raised the fine hair on the back of Alec’s neck. Julia had promised that the maid was not one of the Society’s misfits, and yet…. Frowning, he dismissed the valet as soon as he was able, and went in search of Julia.
She was nowhere to be found on the upper floor, so he proceeded to the front drawing room. There he stopped short. A female attired in the strict black uniform of a maid stood on a small stool, watching out the window.
“Pardon me,” he said.
She started and turned, regarding him with wide blue eyes. Alec stepped backward as if someone had just thrown him a leveler. Far from the homely creature he had imagined, the new maid was a vision of female loveliness. Shining ringlets of dusky black framed a heart-shaped face while the stark lines of her uniform emphasized her enchanting figure.
As guileless as a lamb, the beauty fluttered long, thick lashes and obligingly climbed off her perch. “You must be the viscount.”
“And I suppose you are the new maid,” he said, hoping against all hope he was wrong.
She favored him with a blinding smile, enchanting dimples appearing in each cheek. “I am so thankful Lady Hunterston found me.” She clasped her hands together, the dozen bracelets adorning her slim wrists jangling noisily.
He raised his brows at the sparkling array. Silver and gold, some set with costly gemstones, they bedazzled the eye and gleamed against her sober uniform. “Where did you come from?”
“The Lowdry Theatre, off Fleet Street.” Her innocent gaze fastened on him, wide and unblinking. “I was an actress, you know.”
“Is that the new euphemism?” he asked dryly. “Actress?”
The maid’s white hand flew over her mouth. “Oh! Lady Hunterston said I was never to speak of that again.” She frowned, her pretty mouth curling down at the corners. “But I do think it is a pity. Mr. Bibbs, the theatre manager, said I was on my way to becoming his most popular attraction.”
Things were becoming clearer by the minute. “Pardon me, Miss…?”
“L’Amour. Desiree L’Amour.”
Lovely. A soiled dove with a name to match. “Miss…er, L’Amour, how did Lady Hunterston meet you?”
“She came to my room after a performance. I lived over the theatre, you know.” A frown marred the perfection of her brow. “Well, it wasn’t really over the theatre, more behind it.”
Alec could see it clearly—a whore’s squalid room in a filthy back alley, the stench of sin wafting through the air, and Julia, girded for battle, come to save the day. God, was there ever to be an end to his wife’s antics?
The maid must have mistaken his appalled silence for interest, for she smiled and jangled her trinkets. “Aren’t they beautiful?” She lifted her arm so the collection showed to advantage in the waning sun. “I love London. The gentlemen give me such handsome things.”
“Do they?” Alec asked grimly.
Her smile melted into a frown. “All except one. He gave me a bracelet that turned green after only a week.” Desiree tossed her glossy ringlets. “I refused to speak with him after that.”
“I’m sure that was wise.”
“I cannot afford to be cheated. I am very poor, you know,” she confessed with artless candor. “It is the most dreadful thing.”
Nonplussed, all he could do was murmur an agreement.
She fingered a gold bracelet that reflected a bevy of dancing lights across the carpet. “I would dearly love to have a real diamond bracelet. Lady Hunterston says I may have one if I work hard.”
“Did she indeed?” He had underestimated his wife for the last time. There simply were no bounds to her audacity.
“Oh, yes. And as soon as I have enough money, I am going to purchase my own cottage, too. I had thought to earn my way on stage, but it was frightfully uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable” was hardly the word he would have chosen.
Desiree heaved a regretful sigh that pressed her plump bosom against her modest bodice. “I did get to wear the loveliest costumes, though. I do wish you had seen the silver dress I wore in the last play.”
Alec regretted a lot of things, but seeing his maid perform on the open stage in a silver dress was not
one of them. He’d reluctantly allowed the reprehensible Muck into his household, but this—a woman of sullied character—was beyond the acceptable. Alec couldn’t wait to get his hands around his wife’s slender, entirely too busy, neck.
Just then, the object of his ruminations breezed into the room amid a rustle of blue silk. Her gaze fixed immediately on the maid.
“There you are, Desiree! I’ve been looking all over for you. The guests will be arriving any minute and Mrs. Winston needs you in the kitchen. We’ve no cook, you know. You’ll have to help where you can.”
Desiree nodded, then blushed, sinking into a deep curtsey. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Julia waved an airy hand. “No, no, no. That’s for the Dowager Duchess of Roth. For me, it’s just ‘my lady.’ And you don’t have to call me that if no one is about.”
The maid’s face puckered, tears threatening. “I do hope I don’t ruin your dinner party. I was just telling His Grace—” She clapped a dimpled hand over her mouth. “Oops, I should say ‘my lord.’”
Julia turned a startled glance in his direction. “Alec! What are you doing hiding behind the settee?”
To his fury, he felt a flush lift up his face. He hurriedly stepped from behind the settee. “Nothing! I was conversing with Miss L’Amour. She was telling me of her adventures on stage.”
Telltale color stained Julia’s cheeks. “I was hoping to have a word with you about that, but what with the dinner party and attending Almack’s, and…I forgot.”
“Yes, you did.” Alec waited for Julia to reply, but she was much too busy herding the girl from the room.
“Go on, Desiree. Tell Mrs. Winston to let me know if she needs anything else.” Julia shut the door behind the maid before turning to him. “We have a paltry ten courses for dinner, but Lord Fallington had only eight and no one said a thing. Besides, the turtle soup is excellent, and Mrs. Winston has made—”