The Wily Wastrel Read online

  “Shall we eat?” he asked.

  She smiled gratefully and he congratulated himself on finding just the right gentle tone with which to speak to his new bride. They sat opposite one another, conscious of the servants hovering about to serve them.

  “It went off well today, I should think,” James said as soup was placed before him.

  “Yes, it did,” Juliet agreed, her voice as stilted as his own.

  She ignored the memory of Lady Darton condescending to her and of Lord Darton’s disapproving scowl. She particularly ignored the memory of Mama attempting to ingratiate herself with both of them with a singular lack of success.

  Instead, she said, somewhat timidly, “I liked your brothers Harry and Philip.”

  James smiled. “Yes, they are good fellows, aren’t they? And I thought it very nice of Sir Thomas and Lady Levenger to attend.”

  “He is a distinguished judge, isn’t he?” Juliet asked, desperate for something to say.

  James recounted a little of his history. “In many ways Sir Thomas is an admirable man. His family was not quite the thing and he became a barrister both because it suited his temperament and because he needed some way to earn a living. He rose quickly and became King’s Counsel at an exceptionally young age.”

  He paused, and then added with some constraint, “He and my father were dear friends. You will no doubt think that strange, considering the difference in their breeding, but as I once told you, my father was accounted a great reformer and he cared not a whit for such things. And when he died we discovered that Sir Thomas stood in some part as guardian to us. He has been all that is kind and we have benefited greatly from his counsel. I shall not cut the connection, now that we are married,” he concluded a trifle defiantly. “Even Athenia has not been able to persuade George to do so! And you may as well know that I am acquainted with any number of individuals who are not acceptable to the ton.”

  Juliet was shocked and it showed in her expression. “I should never ask you to cut the connection with anyone who was important to you,” she said. Then, her temper rising, she went on, “You must have a very poor impression of me if you think I could be so foolish or so cruel. You may have whatever friends you wish and I shall not care one bit!”

  And with that, to her great mortification, and his, Juliet burst into tears. Instantly, James was on his feet, waving the servants away and coming around to kneel by her chair. He took her hand in his and with the other stroked her hair.

  “You must forgive me,” James said gently. “I have no practice in this sort of thing.”

  She sniffed. “You? London’s most notable bachelor? The joy of every hostess? Oh, yes, I have heard far more than I wished to hear about what a delightful gentleman you are. So don’t give me such fustian as to say you don’t know how to do the pretty, when it suits you!”

  “Yes, but this is not doing the pretty,” James retorted, with pardonable exasperation. “I am trying to comfort you, Juliet.”

  She blinked at him. “You are?”

  “Well, what the devil did you think I was doing?” he demanded.

  She blushed. “I don’t know. I haven’t any more experience than you do at these things,” she confided naively. “Indeed, I daresay I have much less.”

  “Well, I am. And I am sorry for thinking you as… as high-handed or as snobbish as Athenia.”

  She sniffed again. “I cannot think how I have come to be such a watering pot, just now,” she said, with mortification evident in her voice. “I do not mean to be and in general I never cry. It is most lowering that I should do so on my wedding day.”

  James smiled. “Do you think it possible,” he asked coaxingly, “that it is precisely because it is your wedding day that you should do so? After all, this is a momentous occasion for the both of us and I must confess my own nerves are not altogether steady.”

  She smiled at him and he blinked. The transformation was, he thought, astonishing however many times he saw it, and as he did each time, he found himself once again silently vowing to give Juliet cause to smile as often as it was possible to do so.

  Abruptly they both became aware of the interested and highly approving watchful gaze of the servants. James rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

  “You may go,” he said. “We shall finish serving ourselves.”

  Juliet touched his hand. “I am not really hungry,” she said.

  He nodded. “You may take everything away,” he told the servants.

  From the hastily suppressed grins, it was patent they put their own interpretation upon all of this!

  But for Juliet and James, the reality was rather different. When they were alone he said, holding out a hand to her, “Come sit on the sofa. We have not truly had any time alone together, no chance to talk since the night you helped me work on my engine.”

  She came willingly. “How is your engine?” she asked eagerly. “Did you try the things I suggested?”

  “I thought,” he said diffidently, “you might wish to be there when I did.”

  Now her face really lit up. “Oh, I should!” she exclaimed.

  She looked at him expectantly and James found himself at a loss as to how to proceed. “That is not precisely what I meant, however,” he said, “when I said that we might wish to talk.”

  “Oh?”

  There was such innocence in her gaze that James, who was uneasily aware of his own innocence, did not quite know what to say. Still, he tried.

  “We have not talked of what to expect from this marriage of ours.”

  “Mama explained everything,” Juliet said earnestly. Then, as though realizing from his expression that perhaps she had been indiscreet, she added, “That is, you are quite right. We ought to talk. What did you wish to say?”

  James closed his eyes and then opened them again. Why had he ever thought this would be easy? That Miss Galsworth would be sufficiently sensible that they would have no awkwardness between them?

  “I wished to tell you,” he said carefully, “that I shall do my best to try to put you at ease and do nothing to distress you.”

  “Oh. And I shall do my best to do the same for you,” Juliet said brightly.

  James closed his eyes again and silently counted to twenty. When he opened them, she was regarding him with a somewhat anxious gaze. He tried once more.

  “There may be some awkwardness as we become accustomed to one another but we are both sensible people and I think we shall deal tolerably well together.”

  Still she did not seem to understand what it was he was trying to say. James was at a loss. He could not, he simply could not, bring himself to be any more explicit about the marriage bed. He would simply have to hope that matters worked themselves out naturally.

  Perhaps, he thought, his mind taking another direction, he ought to reassure her about other matters as well. He did not wish her to think, after all, that he would be an overbearing husband, forever telling her what to do or attempting to dictate her interests. And it would not be an unreasonable fear on her part, particularly after Athenia’s behavior at the wedding breakfast today.

  “I do want to assure you that I shall not,” he said earnestly, “interfere with your interests and I presume you are too sensible to interfere with mine.”

  “Oh.”

  This time there was no brightness in either her expression or her voice. She would not meet his eyes, and utterly confused, James wondered what the devil was wrong now?

  He would not interfere with her interests and he did not wish her to interfere with his. He had just said so. Juliet had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill out and trickle down her cheek.

  This would never do! Mama had warned her, had she not? Well, it was time Juliet heeded all the lessons Mama had tried to give her over the years. If this was how it was to be, why then she ought to remember that it was apparently so for every other wife as well. She would just have to find a way to bear her unhappiness.

  Juliet realized that Ja
mes was gazing at her with both concern and dismay in his expression. She forced herself to smile and tried to reassure him.

  “How very sensible of you!” she exclaimed.

  She could hear his sigh of relief and perversely it vexed her greatly. Determined to be sensible, she rose to her feet and declared, “Well, I suppose there is no point in putting off matters any longer. I shall prepare for bed and you may join me shortly.”

  And what there was in those words to upset James was beyond her ability to comprehend. Hadn’t he just said he expected and wished for her to be sensible? Then what on earth was the matter with the man? Whatever it was, she refused to upset herself and fled to the other room to let Margaret help her out of her clothes and into the nightshift Mama had ordered for her for this night.

  It was a measure of her distress that Juliet scarcely noticed all the ruffles and ribbons that decorated the dratted thing. Nor did she pay any attention to the chatter of her maid.

  What did she wish to hear of “enduring”? Or to be told that perhaps it was not so bad after all, considering that one of Mama’s kitchen girls had found herself in an interesting condition by choice?

  Interesting condition! The thought suddenly assailed Juliet and her courage almost failed her. She was not, she told herself firmly, ready to find herself in an interesting condition and she was not, definitely not, going to allow it to happen to her just yet.

  Which meant that perhaps, as soon as possible, she ought to ask Mama just how one avoided or perhaps it was chose to become in an interesting way. One wouldn’t want it to happen by accident, after all.

  It did occur to Juliet that James might know but somehow she did not quite feel equal to the task of asking him. Somehow she thought he might not wish her to do so and she had already upset him more than once since the ceremony today. No, she would wait and ask Mama.

  It was astonishing, she thought, the number of things that were important and yet, unaccountably, had been omitted from her education.

  At last Margaret had finished fussing over her and left the room with a backward anxious glance and a giggle. Juliet looked around, feeling more awkward than ever.

  What ought she to do now? How would James expect her to be waiting for him? Margaret had wanted to tuck her up into bed and under the covers but that struck Juliet far too much like hiding. Perhaps she ought to sit on a chair near the fireplace? That seemed equally odd. Finally she settled for sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet planted firmly on the floor, her hands in her lap, clenched together to keep them from trembling.

  That was how James found her.

  James chose to change in the other room. Woods, the perfect gentleman’s gentleman, made no comment as he helped his employer change into his dressing gown. Nor did he have the temerity to offer any advice. He must have known his employer would not appreciate his doing so.

  After he was ready and had dismissed Woods for the night, still James hesitated. How long, he wondered, ought he to give Juliet to prepare herself? How long did ladies require, anyway?

  Eventually he decided that he had probably waited long enough. James opened the bedroom door to find his bride sitting on the edge of the bed, regarding the doorway with wide, frightened eyes. Suddenly his own trepidations seemed utterly unimportant and his only concern was to put her at ease.

  Closing the door behind him, he moved toward Juliet and drew her to her feet. This time he had no need to think about where to place his hands or how to tilt his head as he embraced his bride.

  Somehow it was perfectly natural to hold her close and kiss her gently. Somehow it was perfectly natural for that kiss to deepen into something much more. And by the time they found themselves in bed, his dressing gown and her nightshift somehow discarded, both Juliet and James were far beyond the point of worrying how to do what was coming so very naturally to the both of them.

  Mama was wrong, Juliet thought. What happened in the marriage bed was not something to be endured. Not in the least. It was something she rather thought she could come to enjoy a great deal. Indeed, she thought a moment later, she already did!

  Chapter 11

  Juliet woke to find herself alone. For a moment she wondered where she was, and then she recalled, with a sense of utter happiness, the night before. But where was her bridegroom?

  Margaret, her maid, bustling into the room with morning tea, merely said, in reply to Juliet’s question, “Oh, Mr. Langford went out an hour ago. He said to tell you he would be back later.”

  One could not press the girl for information she patently did not have. With a puzzled frown, Juliet sipped her tea and then dressed for the day in her plainest gown. She stared at the other dresses her maid had hung up and then made a decision.

  “Margaret, we are going to take all the bows and ruffles and furbelows off every gown in my wardrobe! Or at least,” she temporized, “some of them.”

  The maid’s eyes went wide but she did not protest. Indeed, it would seem that at least a tiny part of her approved for she began to smile.

  “Your mama won’t like it,” she warned.

  Juliet fixed her maid with a determined gaze and said, “My mama has nothing to say to the matter, ever again. I am a married woman!”

  “And Mr. Langford? Will he approve?” the maid asked, a trifle nervously.

  For a moment, Juliet’s resolve wavered. Then she squared her shoulders. “Mr. Langford is a man. No doubt he won’t even notice,” she said.

  The maid nodded vigorously. “That’s true. Men never do, do they? Where shall we begin?”

  James met Sir Thomas Levenger on the street in front of Philip’s house. “You were called here, too, sir?” he asked in confusion.

  Sir Thomas quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. “We shall find out in due course the reason for our summons. Meanwhile, we do not wish everyone on the street to note our presence and wonder at it. Inside, m’boy, inside!”

  The footman betrayed nothing by his expression as he showed the two gentlemen into the study. There, James’s older brother, Philip, was waiting for them, and Harry.

  “So, Harry,” Sir Thomas said gruffly, even as his shrewd eyes took in every detail of the younger man’s appearance, “Do you mean to tell us the truth today about why they’ve given you leave? And about how things are going at the front?”

  Major Harry Langford’s expression turned grim. He waved them all to seats then looked at Philip, who nodded and quietly locked the study door. He waited for him to sit down again behind the study desk, which was piled high with law books.

  “Harry has a request to make of us,” Philip said.

  The major, the only one still on his feet, regarded each of them carefully. He stood with his legs braced wide apart, his hands clasped behind his back.

  To Sir Thomas he said, “You ask how things are at the front. Not going nearly as well as we should wish. I am here, ostensibly because of James’s entanglement with a young woman, the woman he married yesterday. Congratulations, by the way, James. I think she will suit you perfectly. That was certainly my excuse to George. But the real reason I am here is that I need your help. All of you—I shall need your help, if you will give it.”

  He paused, as though not entirely certain how to go on. He looked at each man in the room and each man in turn nodded and murmured, “Of course.”

  Harry’s shoulders relaxed just a trifle. “We must find a better, faster way of sending information from England to the continent,” he said.

  “I have been experimenting with lights and lenses,” James said slowly. “If you can get the information to the coast, I can think of a possible way to get it across the channel without any delay. I think it would work, though I should have to run some experiments to be sure. But, Harry, those on the other side will all be able to see it, regardless of which army they represent, and your man would have to be in French territory, which would be very risky.”

  Harry grinned. “I thought you might have some notions, James.”

  �
��A code,” Philip said thoughtfully, “would remove the problem of the enemy intercepting the message. It ought to be based on a common book. Perhaps the Bible? Do you carry one with you?”

  “Not yet, but I will, if it comes to that,” Harry said with a grin. “Many men do and it would arouse no comment. But there is still the matter of getting the information to the coast and James’s system of lights and lenses.”

  “My possible system,” James cautioned.

  Harry waved a hand as though to dismiss the possibility of failure. “You’ll find a way,” he said. “But how do we get the information to the coast? Sir Thomas, have you any suggestions?”

  The elder fellow hesitated, and when he finally did speak, there was something of a twinkle in his shrewd eyes as he said, succinctly, “Mrs. Philip Langford.”

  “Emily?”

  “Does she not write for a newspaper?” Sir Thomas asked, completely unruffled by the exclamations this statement produced.

  Philip colored up, trying to ignore the stares and questions his brothers were asking. “I, er, what makes you think that?” he began. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he added, “Lady Levenger.”

  Sir Thomas nodded gravely. “Lady Levenger,” he agreed. “Agatha is, after all, your wife’s aunt and she is accustomed to confide in her. You need not fear, however, that any of us in this room will give away her secret. We have all known for some time, after all. Except perhaps Harry. But I do think it may be the answer to the present quandary.”

  “How so?” Harry asked.

  “I think I know,” Philip replied. “If she puts the message in her writing, then anyone who gets the paper can transmit the message with James’s system of lights and lenses, am I right?”

  Sir Thomas nodded. “The importance, I presume, is that no one should know a message is being sent to the coast. Messengers can too easily be intercepted. But no one would think anything of someone having a newspaper delivered. Not even if he sent to London for it every day. I know, and you must as well, men who do so whenever they are out of the city for any length of time.”