Heart's Desire

Chapter Seventeen

Spectre's endurance had been pushed to its limits. This return trip to London had taken half the time Julian's journey to Shepridge End had. When he arrived at his townhouse, night had fallen. It was far too late in the day for a visit to one's solicitor. He'd have to do so on the morrow.

Wearily, Julian made his way through the dark and quiet house that served as his base in London. It was large enough and situated in a fashionable neighborhood. He purchased the place shortly after returning from the war. Since taking up his position in the House of Lords, many a gathering had been held here. But never had there been a hostess presiding over them, as was proper with a married gentleman.

Julian undressed himself as Henderson was still days from London. He washed off the road dust with a pitcher of cold water and a cloth. He'd order a proper bath come the morrow. The plan was to visit his solicitors' as early as possible to try and untangle this most recent mess.

The washcloth shook in Julian's hand as anger rose once more. In a fit of pique, he sent the sopping mass sailing across the room. It made a satisfying splat when it hit the door of his dressing room. Sighing at the childish outburst, he went to pick the sodden cloth up off the floor.

That Charity had schemed with her brother yet again still stung. Upon reading the unsent letter, he'd been furious. He'd wanted to shake her awake and demand answers. But in the end, wisdom had prevailed. He knew she still kept things from him. Unfortunately, he was now finished with trying to wriggle her secrets out of her. This final act of betrayal was too much for Julian to swallow.

During his journey, the hot anger had chilled to the cold rage Julian currently felt. Sparks of the former still crept up and out, were the innocent washcloth any indication. He'd thought Charity had grown to trust him. He wrongly thought she'd told him all that she'd hidden from him.

What truly galled was that Julian was uncertain how to proceed come morning. Part of him said this was his chance to be well and truly rid of such a scheming viper. His political career be damned; he should allow the proceedings to take their natural course. He'd eventually weather the scandal and maybe, eventually wed again. This time, his bride would be his choice.

Another part, the weaker one in Julian's estimation, wanted to find a way to make this marriage work. Yes, it pointed out, his wife had betrayed him countless times, not by lying, but rather by omission. But she'd had reason not to trust him with the full truth. Besides, he had his daughters to think about now. He couldn't tear them away from their mother, no matter how angry at her he was.

The other side would then point out that the reason given for the annulment, reading between the lines of Charity's missive, was that Julian was unable to perform. He'd be emasculated in the eyes of the court and before his peers. The only consolation in this sordid affair was that he'd proved himself capable before her and her brother's plot was exposed.

Memories of that night made Julian shift uncomfortably in his cold, lonely bed. Charity's passion was something he couldn't easily forget. He'd tried to convince himself that she was but one of many women he'd taken his pleasure of, therefore rendering her as nothing special. His body disagreed; it wanted more.

The night passed thusly, with little to no sleep. Julian's mind warred with itself. Try as he might, he couldn't still its arguments or the memories that crept up to torment him.

Frustrated, Julian rose from bed. It was so early that he was up before the scullery maid. After donning a robe, he went down to his study. There was likely a pile of correspondence he could see to while he waited for the rest of the house to awaken. He'd not had any forwarded to Shepridge End, believing at the time that he'd be home after collecting one, wayward wife.