Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

All the qualities she wanted instantly came to mind — kind heart, clever eyes, ready laugh, sandy hair, loving with children — and she clamped her lips together tight in case any of the treacherous words should try to leak out.

“Nonsense; who better?” Louisa insisted. “He knows everyone in London, he knows you, and he likes you and will have an eye out for your best interests. Now, what would you like?”

“You make it sound as if I’m ordering dinner from the cook,” Julia muttered, but settled back in her chair to think. She supposed she could at least humor her sister for a few minutes. Otherwise Louisa might wonder why Julia was being so obstinate.

“Well,” she began slowly, choosing her words with great care, “I’d want him to be kind, of course. He must be kind. And financially solvent. I don’t mean wealthy; just not in debt, and not with any rakish habits like gambling problems. And I’d like him to have a sense of humor, and be good-looking, and like children. Oh, and be punctual.”

“Punctual?” Louisa teased. “Up with the chickens every morning?”

“No, not exactly that. I guess I mean reliable. I want him to be there for me when he says he will. Literally as well as figuratively.”

A knock sounded on the door of the library, and Simone peeped her head in to announce the arrival of “the young viscount fiancé gentleman.”

Louisa smiled bracingly at Julia. “There we are, perfect timing. Ready to eat?”

“Absolutely,” Julia replied promptly, rising. “Always.”

It was a lie; her stomach still roiled with nervousness, but it wouldn’t do to tell Louisa about that. If she wasn’t in the mood for a meal, Louisa would instantly suspect something was wrong.

“And are you ready to place your order for a husband?”

Julia shook her head. “That I feel less ready for.”

“Come on,” Louisa pleaded. “Please let us help you. I want you to have all the fun I wanted for myself last year and didn’t have. I want lovely men to flock to you.”

“All I want is one,” Julia replied.

At the familiar twinge of guilt and longing, she paused in her walk, thinking. She felt as if she were on the edge of something important.

If she agreed with Louisa’s scheme, she would start something new. She would open her eyes to a new world, full of potentially exciting people. But she would also close off the possibility of something else, something deep and comforting and real. Her ideal; her chosen love.

But that had never been a possibility anyway. It was time to let that go.

Even though Louisa had admitted she didn’t love him.

Julia nodded desperately to clear that thought from her mind. “Very well, I’ll do it.”

“You mean it?” Louisa clapped her hands together in excitement.

“Yes,” Julia said, covering her uncertainty with a shaky laugh. “Let’s order a husband for me, and let’s find him.”

James, ever appreciative of the absurd, showed what he thought was a very reasonable amount of delight when Julia and Louisa informed him, on the way to the masquerade, of the “husband order” they had determined to place for Julia. He promised, dutifully, but with a rebellious twinkle in his eye, to help root out someone first-rate for her.

This casual attitude offended Lady Irving.

“I think it’s a very sensible idea,” she barked. “Julia’s got her eyes open. A young miss ought to have her eyes open when she’s sorting through a lot of riffraff, which today’s young men are.” After a long pause, she grudgingly added, “Present company excluded, I suppose.”

“How charming you always are, my lady,” James said with a grin. “Such great age brings great wisdom as well.”

And thus, with the score tied one to one between the countess and the viscount, the party entered Xavier House.

Lady Irving ran on ahead, crowing about finding Lord Xavier and getting together a “spirited” and “fun” game of whist for “real stakes,” which her relatives now knew was likely to involve some shockingly deep play. For James, the fun began not with cards, but when his old acquaintance Freddie Pellington darted up to the remaining three members of the party and pumped the viscount’s hand energetically.

“Dash it, old boy, it’s dashed good to see you. Damme, I didn’t know you were back in town. Thought you’d run off to the country for good. Back in London already, though, ain’t you?”

“Yes, here I am, as you see,” James replied patiently, accepting Pellington’s energetic clap on the back. Freddie Pellington was a kind enough young man, but definitely not the brightest fellow of his acquaintance.

And that’s when his brilliant idea struck.

He couldn’t say he had relished the idea of helping Julia find a man. The idea of systematically searching for a husband had seemed amusing enough when she and Louisa had first revealed their scheme, but it hadn’t sat all that well with him once he had a chance to mull it over. He was just supposed to help sell her off? Never mind that it was to be to someone who was kind, funny, handsome, wealthy, warm-hearted, et cetera, et cetera. If such a paragon existed — which was doubtful — why on earth would James ever want to spend any time around him? He would feel positively inferior, and honestly, he would probably want to slug the fellow in the teeth for making eyes at Julia.

He couldn’t just refuse to cooperate with his fiancée’s request, though. However. . he realized now that he could honor the letter of the request, if not the spirit. He would find Julia exactly the type of man she had requested in a husband. No less, but certainly no more.

He felt better already.

“My dear Louisa — Julia — please allow me to introduce the Honorable Frederic Pellington,” he said triumphantly, then introduced the ladies to the young man in return. With a speaking look to both women, James added, “He’s a very kind man. Aren’t you, Freddie?”

“Charmed, charmed,” burbled Pellington as he made his bow to the ladies. “Any friend of Matheson’s, you know. Friend of mine. Happy to meet you.” James’s words seemed to sink in just then, and he continued, “Dash it, Matheson, no need to go on about me. Always try to be kind and whatnot, but you know, definitely a man of the world.”

James nudged Julia significantly and nodded to drive the point home unmistakably. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she darted a quick look at him, as if to say, Really?

He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. Perhaps he’d stretched the limits of her credulity too much by presenting her with Pellington right off. The man was usually a positive pink of the ton, but tonight he had gone all out for the masquerade in what appeared to be the makeshift costume of a pasha. He was wearing a gold waistcoat with an untucked shirt under it for modesty’s sake, extremely baggy purple trousers, and — most unfortunate of all — a scarlet turban exactly like the one Julia was wearing.

Oh well, it was worth a try to throw the two together. If Julia gave him the slightest opening, Pellington would talk her ear off all evening and she’d never have the opportunity even to look at another man. And then she’d be safe from suitors for the night, because, honestly, there wasn’t a chance in the world she’d take that rather dim fellow seriously as a possible husband.

Finally, Julia replied to Pellington, and James knew she had taken the bait. “How. . how nice to meet you,” she faltered, making her curtsy. “I think your costume is very interesting.”

Pellington’s eyes blinked wide open, and a bright smile spread across his face. “Do you really? Dashed kind of you, I must say. I wasn’t sure about it myself, but Xavier insisted on fancy dress. Never fond of a costume in the common way, but decided I’d get a bit creative this time. All among friends here, you know; just a very small gathering.”

“Pellington’s wealthy, too,” James added ruthlessly. “And he’s fond of children.”

“Are you really?” Julia replied weakly, shooting another are-you-sure-about-this look at James, which he met with his brightest, most open smile. All right, maybe it was more of a grin.

“Oh, well, dash it, Matheson,” Pellington replied, blushing. “Haven’t got any children myself, of course; not that type of a fellow. But someday, you know, and all that. Always liked them. Seem like nice little creatures. Have quite a knack with them, actually.”

A memory struck him. “Did you know you can soothe a baby with brandy? I mean, it always works to settle me, but I wouldn’t have thought a baby would have a taste for it. But I tried it on my brother’s baby when he was fussing — the baby, I mean — and the little fellow took to it dashed fondly.”

“You. . gave brandy to a baby?” Julia said weakly, unable to entirely suppress an expression of horror from her face. She looked even paler than usual under her shocking red turban, the heavy weight of which was already beginning to shift to one side. Blinking in agitation, she shoved it back into place absently, wreaking unwitting havoc on Simone’s careful hairpinning.

Louisa, meanwhile, used the cover of the long, gauzy folds of her Classical dress to grind one delicately slippered foot onto James’s boot. His boot was thick enough that he could hardly feel it, but he still got the idea. All right, time to salvage the situation.

“Pellington was just joking, weren’t you?” He shot a significant look at the costume-clad gentleman.

“What? Joking? No indeed,” that young man replied, completely missing the sub rosa meaning of James’s glance. “Mind you, didn’t give the baby very much. Only a few drops. Although,” he confessed, “his mother caught me at it, and she was dashed angry. Made me swear not to do it again. Can’t see why, because it worked like a charm. But promised her anyway.”