The Wily Wastrel Page 9

  The Langford brothers nodded. Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How often does your wife’s writing appear in the paper?” he asked.

  Philip hesitated. “At least once a week. More if she wished. But we have not wanted it to overwhelm our lives. How often would you need her to write something?”

  Harry considered the question carefully. “Once a week would probably be sufficient. I must arrange for information to be given to her in time for her to include it in her writing, and we must decide how our man on the coast would know what it was that he was to take as the message to transmit. And I must choose someone to go to the coast.”

  “I shall have to go anyway, to test my ideas,” James said instantly. “I could take my wife there, claiming it to be our honeymoon journey. You will need to place a man on the other side to receive the message and we shall need a means to know if it has been safely received.”

  “I can arrange for someone, temporarily to do so,” Harry said slowly. “Then when I go back across the channel, I can check matters out myself. I should like to work out as many details, arrange for all possible contingencies, before I leave. I shall not be able to return for some time. So let us figure out every possible thing that could go wrong, every possible detail we must get right.”

  For the next several hours, the men were engaged in doing precisely that. Had they been able to see Emily and Juliet, they might, at least two of them, have felt some trepidation. But as is usually the case in such situations, it was fortunate that they did not.

  ———

  Juliet was feeling more than a trifle let down when her husband had still not returned by late morning. Perhaps that was why she was so delighted when her sister-in-law was announced.

  “Pray call me Emily!” Mrs. Philip Langford told Juliet, reaching out her hands.

  Juliet took them, not knowing what else to do. Or what else to say. So she smiled. “And I pray you will call me Juliet.”

  The other woman sat down, her eyes dancing as she said, “You are wondering why I should be intruding on you just a day after your wedding but I know, you see, that our husbands are together—indeed, I have been banished from my own house—and we are likely to have some time alone.”

  She paused, as though not certain how to go on, but then she took a deep breath and said, “Yesterday I saw how Lord and Lady Darton treated you and I wished to come and tell you to pay them no mind. I don’t, I assure you, and they were no more pleased by my marriage to Philip than they are with yours to James. But as I told you yesterday, I think that you and I shall deal famously together. Neither of us are conventional ladies and we shall need to stand by one another, don’t you think?”

  Juliet blinked, almost overwhelmed by her new sister-in-law. But then she smiled again, her mind made up.

  “I think we shall deal extremely well together,” she replied. “At least I hope we will. And if you truly wish to do me a service, I pray you will tell me about James.”

  It was Emily’s turn to look taken aback. “Tell you what?” she asked.

  Juliet steeled herself to honesty, however foolish it might make her appear. “You will no doubt think it an odd request, but James and I were married after only the briefest of acquaintances. And yet I mean to make this marriage work. But to do so I must learn everything I can about my husband. And therefore I should be grateful for any detail, however small, that you can tell me about him.”

  “Of course I shall help you,” Emily vowed. Then, impulsively she leaned forward and hugged Juliet. “Oh, I do like you, Juliet! I thought I should, from the moment I heard you give Athenia, that is to say Lady Darton, a setdown at your wedding breakfast.”

  Juliet caught her lower lip between her teeth. “That was not very well done of me,” she confessed.

  “No, but so vastly entertaining,” Emily said, her eyes dancing with amusement. “And so irresistible. I have been wanting to do so ever since I met her.”

  “I suppose,” Juliet said slowly, “that Lord Darton was even more mortified by his father’s conduct than any of his brothers.”

  “You know about the late Lord Darton?” Emily asked with some surprise.

  “It is the one thing I do know,” Juliet replied. “I know that he was a reformer, a rebellious fellow who flouted all conventions, and the family was ostracized because of it.”

  “And then he and Lady Darton were killed in a carriage accident some nine years ago,” Emily added. “His conduct, and the consequences, has affected all of them. As you say, Lord Darton, as the eldest, took it most to heart. He lives his life in such a way that no one can say he is like his father was and he chose a wife as conventional as he. Even my own dear Philip,” Emily said with a mischievous grin, “was a trifle too inclined toward convention when I first met him.”

  “And Sir Thomas and Lady Levenger?” Juliet asked. “I collect they are very close to the family.”

  “Lord and Lady Darton’s death left the brothers on their own at much too young an age,” Emily said. “I collect that Sir Thomas has stood in some sort as guardian to them ever since. He was, you see, a close friend to the late Lord Darton. As for Lady Levenger, she is my aunt and so Philip and I are doubly close to both of them.”

  “I wonder if I shall ever know the family as well as you do,” Juliet said, with something of a sigh.

  “You shall,” Emily assured her. She paused and looked at Juliet shrewdly. “Is there anything else you wish me to tell you?”

  Juliet hesitated, blushed, then straightened her shoulders and said fiercely, “Tell me how I can make him fall in love with me! Tell me how I can please James so that he never wishes to have female friends, as Mama has sworn he will. Tell me how I can please him as well as any member of the demimonde!”

  Emily gasped, then laughed. “Good heavens! You are indeed unconventional!” she exclaimed unsteadily. “Even more so than I.”

  All the fierceness seemed to go out of Juliet, “f have shocked you,” she said with dismay.

  Emily shook her head. “No! I am pleased. But I do not quite know how to help you. However,” she said, thoughtfully, “I have a notion. There are some books in Philip’s library that might perhaps help. They seem to have the oddest pictures, and when once he found me holding one and looking at it, quite by accident, I assure you, he told me it was most improper. But if you wish to be improper, I can think of nothing that could be more useful, can you?”

  Her eyes wide, Juliet shook her head. Then, with a grin she said, “Oh, I do like you, Emily! And I am so glad you came to call upon me today! How soon can you bring one of these books?”

  Chapter 12

  James did not think to explain to his bride either where he had been or the reason behind his announcement that they were probably going to go the coast for their honeymoon. His only awkwardness came when he had to tell her that he wasn’t quite certain when they would be leaving.

  Nor did he notice a certain preoccupation on her part. Juliet was subdued, but surely that was proper for a wife? After all, had he not called her sensible?

  When she ventured to ask whether he was thinking of his engine, James did condescend to admit to her, “Well, actually, I am thinking of something rather different, at the moment. I am trying to solve a rather interesting problem involving lenses and lights.”

  “In what way?” Juliet asked.

  How much did he dare tell her? Perhaps just a little?

  “Oh, to send signals some distance.”

  “At night, you mean?”

  Bless her, she was quick! “Yes,” James agreed eagerly, “at night or in bad weather. Modulated signals, you understand.”

  “What do you intend to try first?”

  He told her. Harry might think him indiscreet, but the luxury of having someone to discuss his experiments with was one he found he simply could not deny himself. And so he told her, consoling himself that at least she did not know, could not guess the purpose at hand.

  Certainly the questions Juliet
asked were sensible ones and helped James clarify his own thoughts. So long as he did not explain to her why he was working on the problem, his brothers could not mind his confiding in her, could they? After all, it was not as though she, a lady, could speak of this to anyone else.

  So James spent a surprisingly agreeable evening with his bride. And if her eyes glittered suspiciously, he simply presumed she was tired and never guessed that it was from tears threatening to spill out.

  Nor did he realize how upset he made her when he said, “You had best go to bed now, Juliet. I shall be awake for some time working on this problem. But you needn’t fear I shall disturb you when I come to bed.”

  After all, if she had been upset, she would have said something, wouldn’t she? Isn’t that how a sensible woman would behave?

  ———

  Juliet tried to keep her face impassive as her maid undressed her for bed. She tried to pretend nothing was amiss. She didn’t think she entirely succeeded, for Margaret kept looking at her with a concerned expression in her eyes. But Juliet did her best. After all, it would be truly humiliating for even the servants to know how little her husband cared for her company.

  But when she was alone, sitting in her dressing gown by the empty fireplace, Juliet gave vent to her emotions. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her body shook with sobs she fought to keep silent. She did not think she could bear it if anyone overheard and came in to see what was wrong!

  To be sure, she was glad James wished to share with her his experiments. But it was only one day after they had married. Could he not think, even a little, of her? Could he not wish, even a little, to kiss or embrace her? Was she truly such an antidote, after all?

  Still, she was not a woman given to self-pity. When the tears had run their course, a very short time later, Juliet sniffed, dried her face, and set her mind to how she could turn matters about.

  Emily had promised to bring books as soon as might be but surely she need not wait for that? Surely there was something she could do beforehand? Ought she to go out to the other room? Ought she to go and find James?

  A moment’s reflection decided her against such an action. She knew only too well how vexed she would be if someone interrupted her when she was in the midst of trying to fix a carriage or a pump or some such thing.

  Well, perhaps she should stay awake until he came to bed. Perhaps then, if he found her awake and willing, he would be open to the notion of repeating what they had done the night before.

  Mama would say that what she contemplated was scandalously forward and could only give her husband a disgust of her. But if James already had a disgust of her—and he certainly did not seem to want her company tonight—then what could she possibly have to lose?

  So Juliet glanced in the looking glass to make certain she had wiped away all trace of her tears and then removed her dressing gown so that she could climb between the sheets. She must pretend to be asleep, she told herself, so that James did not retreat from the room before she could set her plan into motion. That meant she must blow out the candle and wait in the dark.

  Unless, perhaps, she could feign having fallen asleep with it still lit? Unless she could pretend she had been waiting for him and fallen asleep?

  In the end, that was what Juliet decided to do.

  ———

  James yawned. What hour of the clock was it? That late! Well, he’d best get some sleep. His brothers were expecting him to meet with them again in the morning.

  Quietly, so as not to disturb Juliet, for it would be unconscionable to rob her of sleep as well, James tiptoed into the bedroom, careful to make no noise as he disrobed. Then he set his candle on the night stand and blew it out before slipping between the sheets.

  Her candle guttered low and he was about to blow it out when it went out of its own accord. James frowned. He would have to speak to Juliet about such a dangerous habit. One really ought not to leave a candle burning when one went to sleep.

  The image of Juliet sound asleep was so clear in his mind that James jumped when he felt her hand brush his groin. Instantly it was gone. He would have thought he imagined it, so brief was the touch, except that his body had reacted unmistakably.

  He stared at her suspiciously.

  She murmured in her sleep and turned toward him, but her eyes were closed. Could he have been mistaken? She did seem sound asleep now.

  Softly he said, “Juliet?”

  This time she blinked her eyes sleepily, and said, with a puzzled frown, “James?”

  He sighed. It must have been his imagination. His wife could not possibly have touched him as he thought she had. At least not with any awareness of doing so. He was a brute to have wakened her.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

  And with that, to keep her from realizing the state of his arousal and to avoid temptation, he turned away from her. Was that a sniff, behind his back? Surely not. It had to be his imagination. He really must do something about it, his imagination, that is, one of these days. Meanwhile, they both needed to sleep.

  Only he couldn’t sleep. Not when her body moved closer to his. Not when he could feel her breath on his back, even though she was careful not to touch him.

  Was she trying to arouse him?

  No, surely not. She was asleep. And in any event, Juliet was a lady! But it was most distracting and definitely not conducive to sleeping.

  He tried to edge away. She moved closer. He could go no farther without falling out of bed. This was impossible! He was going to have to get up or he was likely to ravish her as she slept, for all he could think of was how she had felt in his arms the night before!

  Quietly, and as gently as he could, James tried to swing his feet to the floor. Before he could accomplish this simple maneuver, however, a hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of his nightshirt. A nightshirt he was wearing out of deference to Juliet’s modesty. But it was her voice that snared him even tighter.

  “James? Please don’t go.”

  He turned, even as the fist let go of his nightshirt and he found himself gazing down into wide-open, half-frightened eyes.

  “Have you had a nightmare?” he asked, his mind ever practical.

  She shook her head.

  “I noticed you left your candle burning. Are you afraid of the dark?” he persisted.

  She shook her head again.

  “Then what,” he asked with pardonable exasperation, “is the problem?”

  Even in the dark he could feel her blush. It was something about the way she averted her eyes and seemed to shrink in upon herself.

  He had to bend forward to hear her as she whispered, “I, that is, will you make love with me, James? I rather liked it last night.”

  James felt as though a heavy weight had fallen on his chest and he could scarcely breathe. She wanted to make love? She wished him to kiss her and hold her and do what they had done last night?

  His voice came out as something of a squeak as he tried to reply. “I, er, that is, of course, if that is what you wish, Juliet.”

  This time she nodded vigorously, leaving him in no doubt that it was. And so, with a sigh of relief and, if truth be known, delight, James reached for his bride and made love with her, thinking all the while, that he must be the most fortunate man in creation!

  ———

  In another part of town, Sir Thomas Levenger reached for a sheet of paper and dipped his pen into the inkwell. Perhaps he ought to ask the major first, but there was so little time. If they were to help Harry as he had asked, Sir Thomas strongly suspected they would need the help of an old friend of his, Frederick Baines.

  No one quite knew just what Frederick Baines did, but somehow there were always rumors. And Sir Thomas knew for a fact that Baines had been of great service to their country, more than once. Added to that, the man had a clever mind, a kind heart, and an ability to see things others did not see. He would be invaluable to Harry’s plans.

  So Sir Thomas dipped his pen aga
in and began to write. Time enough in the morning to tell the major what he had done. Particularly as Sir Thomas was far too shrewd to commit anything to paper that ought not to be seen by other eyes. No, anyone reading this missive would only think that the elder barrister was lonely for the company of an old friend.

  Which he was. A smile began to play about Sir Thomas’s mouth. Even if Harry decreed Baines was not to be brought into the plan, it would be fun to have Baines in London again. The man knew the most astonishing people and precisely how to ferret out the most entertaining places.

  When the letter was written and folded and sealed, Sir Thomas set it on the pile of correspondence that was to be sent out in the morning. Then he blew out the candle and sought his bed.

  It was late and he was tired, but somehow he was not surprised to find Agatha awake and waiting for him, a tender smile upon her face that he had come to know and love so well.

  “We are, you know, a most unfashionable couple,” he told her sternly.

  She was not in the least abashed. “How so?” she demanded teasingly.

  He held his arms open and she came without hesitation straight into them. Sir Thomas kissed the top of her head. “We are unfashionable because we love one another so dearly. What a shocking thing, after all!”

  Agatha turned her face up to his, a teasing smile playing about her mouth. “Do you know, dear, I think I rather like being shocking,” she said.

  With a tiny crow of triumph he captured her lips with his. “So do I, my love,” he said between kisses. “So do I.”

  Chapter 13

  Juliet woke the next morning certain that today would be wonderful and far different from yesterday. How could it not be, after last night? Unfortunately her happy spirits lasted only as long as it took her to discover that once again she had been left on her own, with no notion when her husband planned to return. He had left a note with some funds telling her to go shopping if she wished, but that was a poor substitute for his company.