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  In the beginning, he’d gone on with his life as if he’d never married at all. In truth, his drinking, carousing and meaningless encounters with women had increased after Violet left. James blamed it on guilt. It was easy to forget what a cad be was, how he had ruined her life, if he was inebriated or had an anonymous woman in his bed. After he passed the second anniversary of his marriage, the appeal of raucous behavior, random women and drunken stupors began to fade. It was around that time too that Uncle Richard had been struck by a violent but blessedly brief illness and James had begun learning what was required to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. Upon later reflection, he acknowledged that was the true beginning of adulthood.

  Violet raised a shoulder in a casual shrug as if money was as good a reason as any.

  His brow rose. “You needn’t act as if you were doing me a great favor.”

  “Oh, but I am doing you a great favor.”

  “You have as much to lose as I do.”

  She met his gaze directly. “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh?”

  She hesitated then shrugged. “It’s not important at the moment.” She turned and headed toward the stairs.

  “It sounded important.” He strode after her.

  “I’m not going to discuss this now.” She reached the grand stairway and started up. “But I’m not agreeing to this because I have no other choice.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard about your choices,” he called after her.

  Violet Branham, Lady Ellsworth, his wife, might not be aware of it but there had been nearly as much gossip about her over the past six years as there had been about him. He knew the truth about his behavior, but he had no idea if the stories he’d heard about her were accurate. Of course, some came from Duncan, Viscount Welles, who had mentioned running into Violet somewhere in Europe in recent years. Welles was an old friend, one of the very men who had issued the ill-fated challenge to kiss his fiancée on that night six years ago. Even so, the information was not firsthand. Regardless, what James heard about Violet’s behavior had grown increasingly bothersome as his own conduct had become more respectable.

  “My choices?” She swiveled on the stairs and glared down at him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Never mind.” He waved off her question. Discussing this now was a mistake. After all, they had three years ahead of them. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I suspect it does matter,” she snapped.

  Apparently, she was not going to let the subject drop. Very well. Let the games begin. “You have not been entirely inconspicuous these past six years. There have been rumors, gossip.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, have you heard?”

  “You said yourself nothing can be done about the past.” It was his turn to adopt an offhand manner, as if none of this was of any significance. “What’s done is done.”

  “Nonetheless, I would like to know what you have heard.”

  “I doubt that.” He turned and strode toward the library. This was not the sort of talk a man had with his wife without the benefit of spirits.

  “You cannot make vague, unsubstantiated charges and then just walk away,” she called after him.

  “Actually, I can.” He stepped into the library, snapped the door closed behind him and crossed the room to the cabinet where Uncle Richard kept convenient bottles of brandy, whiskey and assorted spirits.

  A moment later the door crashed open and he tried not to grin. He’d suspected this new Violet wouldn’t be able to resist continuing the conversation.

  “If you want to start something like this at least have the courage to finish it!”

  James took a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass. “Would you like a glass?”

  “Goodness, James, it’s barely past noon.”

  “If we’re going to start the first day of the next three years reliving our sordid pasts, I for one am going to need fortification.”

  “No doubt.” She moved to him, plucked the glass from his hand and took a sip. “My past is not the least bit sordid, thank you very much.”

  He eyed the glass. “I believe that’s mine.”

  “Not anymore.” She smirked and took another sip. “And I prefer to think of it as clearing the air. If we’re going to spend the next three years together as a happy couple in public, I daresay it’s best to get everything out in the open. To alleviate the possibility of untoward surprises.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” He poured a glass for himself.

  “I’d rather not appear shocked when some well-meaning acquaintance decides it’s time I was informed of all of my husband’s indiscretions.”

  He sipped his drink and studied her. As curious as he was about the rumors regarding her behavior, he wasn’t at all sure confessing his own transgressions was wise. Fuel on the fire and that sort of thing. “It seems to me, we have a great deal to discuss regarding the past six years. Are you certain you wish to start with this particular topic?”

  “Why not?” A distinct challenge shone in her eyes. “I must say I’m surprised you’ve had the time to pay any attention to rumors about me when there’s been so much gossip about you.”

  His tone sharpened. “One does tend to note gossip about one’s wife.”

  “As one tends to note rumors about one’s husband.” Her voice hardened. “Something like, oh, say, his dalliance with an opera singer.”

  “Or her liaison with a French count.”

  Her teeth clenched. “His affair with an American actress.”

  “Hers with an Italian sculptor,” he said sharply. That tidbit came straight from Welles.

  “His with any number of merry widows!”

  “Hers with some talentless Greek poet!”

  Her eyes widened. Apparently he’d hit the mark with that charge. Not that it gave him any satisfaction. Until now, he wasn’t sure he really believed any of the rumors. This was Violet, after all.

  She choked back a laugh.

  Although she had certainly changed. “You find this amusing?”

  “Yes, actually I do.” She grinned. “Don’t you?”

  “No!” he snapped. “I don’t find any of this amusing.”

  “You used to find much of life amusing.”

  “I am not the same man I used to be.”

  She snorted in disbelief.

  “I shall make a deal with you, Violet,” he said evenly. “I won’t throw your affairs in your face if you don’t throw my affairs in mine. We’ll leave the past in the past.”

  “I don’t know. Throwing your indiscretions in your face sounds rather enjoyable to me.” She sipped her whiskey and considered him. Apparently, she was not going to make this easy.

  “What I’m proposing is a truce.”

  “I was unaware we were engaged in battle.”

  His gaze met hers directly. “We have been engaged in a game of warfare since the night I kissed you on a darkened terrace.”

  “Nonsense.” She scoffed. “We haven’t even seen each other.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “I suppose it has been something of a battle albeit a silent one.”

  He sipped his drink. “Perhaps we could be, well, friends again.”

  “Unwilling partners perhaps but friends?” She tossed back the rest of her whiskey in a manner any man would be proud of. “I don’t think I can be your friend.”

  “Nonetheless, you are my wife.”

  “Six years ago, you didn’t want a wife.”

  Six years ago I was an idiot. “And yet I have one who now apparently has to act like a wife.” He drew a deep breath. “As I intend to act like a husband.”

  Her brow arched upward. “Do you?”

  “It’s what Uncle Richard wanted.” He paused. “We were friends once, Violet, you and I.”

  “Once was a
very long time ago, James.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and headed for the door. “Lady Higginbotham and her friends will be here for dinner at half-past seven. Don’t be late. And do dress appropriately.”

  “That sounded very much like a wife to me,” he called after her.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, my dear James, that’s just the beginning.”

  “EXCELLENT DINNER, LORD ELLSWORTH,” Lady Blodgett said with a pleasant smile. “Do give my compliments to your cook.”

  “Mrs. Clarke will be pleased to hear you enjoyed it.” James smiled.

  Lady Blodgett and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore were the friends of Mrs. Higginbotham’s she’d said were going to help her oversee the conditions of the will. All three ladies were of advanced years although one could see they must have been quite lovely in their younger days. Marcus and Mrs. Ryland completed their company. Marcus had noted privately earlier in the evening how he and James were horribly outnumbered and they should be on their toes. If this was indeed a game there were three distinct factions as evidenced by the seating at the table. James sat at the head at the table, Violet opposite at the far end. Mrs. Ryland sat next to Violet and beside Marcus who was on James’s right. The three older ladies sat on the other side.

  Mrs. Higginbotham proclaimed before they were seated that there would be no discussion of Uncle Richard’s will until after dinner. Both James and Marcus spent the better part of the meal doing their best to charm the females at the table. Which did seem to work well with the exception of Violet—who even while she directed the conversation around the table was cool and aloof at least toward James—and Mrs. Ryland, whose distaste for James was only barely concealed. Although she did not appear entirely immune to Marcus’s charms even if it did seem the widow was trying to resist the engaging solicitor. Apparently, she was reluctant to throw her lot in with the enemy.

  All in all the meal was pleasant enough if one ignored the superficial nature of the conversation and the currents eddying just below the surface.

  “So.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked around the table. “Shall we begin?”

  “Perhaps we should retire to the parlor,” Violet said in her best lady of the house manner. Her mother would be proud. James stifled a laugh.

  “Oh, I think here at the table where we are all on equal footing is preferable,” Mrs. Higginbotham said and looked at James. “Unless you object?”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Higginbotham.” He smiled at the older lady. No doubt the next three years would be fraught with problems regarding her interpretation of Uncle Richard’s stipulations. It was not too soon to try to get her in his corner.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Excellent.”

  Violet signaled Andrews, who nodded and left the room, returning almost at once with decanters of brandy, port and sherry. Andrews obviously anticipated the company staying at the table and James wondered if Violet and Uncle Richard had done so during her visits.

  Once the table was cleared and they all had glasses of brandy or port, the older ladies insisting they preferred the more traditional lady’s offering of sherry, Mrs. Higginbotham began. “I gather the two of you have agreed to abide by the terms of the will.”

  James met Violet’s gaze and they nodded.

  “Excellent.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked at Marcus. “Shall we take Richard’s stipulations one at a time?”

  Marcus nodded. “Whatever you prefer.”

  “Very well.” Mrs. Higginbotham thought for a moment. “First, is the requirement that you live together for the next two years, eleven months, one week and three days or rather two days now with no more than fourteen days spent apart in any given year.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze circled the table.

  “That seems fairly straightforward to me. Are there any questions?”

  “Is there any requirement as to where we reside? Are we confined to England?” Violet asked.

  “As long as the two of you are living together, under the same roof, not at all.” Mrs. Higginbotham paused. “Although it would be most difficult for Lady Blodgett, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and myself to oversee the terms of the will if you chose to live abroad. In Rome for example.”

  “In which case, Effie, Poppy and I would feel it necessary to reside with you.” Lady Blodgett smiled in an agreeable manner that in no way negated her threat.

  “I for one have always wanted to live abroad.” Excitement rang in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice.

  “I don’t intend to live anywhere but England.” James’s tone was more than a little pompous. Where on earth had that come from? He’d never been even remotely pompous before. “And I don’t consider it confinement.”

  Violet’s jaw tightened but her tone was cordial. “I wasn’t suggesting we live somewhere else. I was simply wondering if it was possible to travel.”

  “Of course it is, dear.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore, who did seem the nicest of the older ladies, smiled at Violet. “You’d simply have to take him with you.”

  “I have no desire to travel,” James said in an offhand manner. His reticence to travel had more to do with the violent reaction of his stomach to being on a ship than anything else. Even the rocking motion of lengthy train trips, especially those through mountainous areas, brought on a nasty queasiness. When he had discovered that tendency he had blamed it on an overindulgence in spirits. He really didn’t care to find out if he was right or not.

  “Travel is the grandest of adventures, James,” Violet said. “There’s an entire world beyond England’s shores, you know.”

  “I traveled the continent after I left school and found that more than sufficient.”

  “Ah yes, the grand tour young men of privilege take to indulge in scandalous pursuits under the guise of culture.” Violet smiled pleasantly, belying the look in her eye that clearly indicated what she thought of young men on grand tours.

  He ignored her. “Besides, I have entirely too many responsibilities here to take the time needed for traveling.”

  At once five pairs of skeptical eyes fixed on him. Marcus nodded encouragement. James smiled and sipped his brandy.

  Violet opened her mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and pressed her lips together.

  “The second condition,” Lady Blodgett began, “requires you to be seen as a couple three times a week.”

  “That seems rather a lot,” Violet said.

  James leaned forward and met her gaze. “Don’t you want to be seen with me?”

  “Not particularly.”

  He smiled slowly. “You don’t really have a choice.”

  She ignored him and turned her gaze to Mrs. Higginbotham. “What constitutes an appearance as a couple?”

  The ladies exchanged glances.

  “We’ve been discussing that very thing,” Lady Blodgett began. “We don’t believe it’s necessary to attend a ball or soiree or anything of that nature three times a week.”

  “That would be most exhausting,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore added.

  “Appearing as a couple is not at all complicated,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Why, tonight’s dinner is certainly the two of you as a couple with others.”

  “Perhaps you should have dinner with us every night,” James said wryly.

  “Sarcasm, my lord?” Lady Blodgett pinned him with a hard look, and James resisted the urge to squirm in his seat.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “We couldn’t possibly be here every night,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said then sighed. “Although the food was excellent.”

  “We feel something as simple as guests for dinner would be acceptable to meet that obligation,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Especially in the beginning. We propose the three of us join you for dinner once a week although you may certainly invite other people. That takes care of one weekly appearance an
d will allow you to keep us informed as to the other two appearances, as well.”

  “We have taken the liberty of asking your secretary, my lord,” Lady Blodgett said, “as well as Mrs. Ryland—”

  Violet shot a surprised look at her friend who winced.

  “—to gather the invitations you’ve received of late. We shall compile a list of those which would be suitable for your initial public appearances.”

  James drew his brows together. “I think we are more than capable of handling our own social engagements.”

  “No, she’s right.” Violet cast the older woman an admiring look. “While I have kept up on the comings and goings of London society there are no doubt nuances I have missed. And it might be best to ease our way into this new life rather than leap in headfirst.”

  “I’ve always liked leaping in head first.” James smirked. Marcus bit back a grin.

  “And that has proved to be so successful for you in the past,” Violet said in an overly sweet tone.

  “We also suggest rides in Hyde Park, either on horseback or in a carriage, visits to galleries, attendance at lectures, the theater, exhibitions, concerts, that sort of thing.” Lady Blodgett smiled. “It might be quite enjoyable.”

  “That would be four hundred and twenty-four appearances as a couple. I figured it out.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore paused. “Well, four hundred and twenty-three given this evening counts as one.”

  “I’m not sure it was necessary to calculate the number of appearances, Poppy.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze shifted from Violet to James and back. “I believe you’ve frightened them.”

  “It does sound rather overwhelming,” Lady Blodgett noted.

  “Nonsense.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore waved off the comment. “I can’t imagine much of anything scares either Lord or Lady Ellsworth.”

  “I’m certainly not afraid of spending time with my wife.” James met Violet’s gaze. “I cannot speak for Lady Ellsworth however.”

  “Goodness, James,” Violet said coolly. “The last thing I’m afraid of is you.”