The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

He did, however, reproach himself momentarily about his devious maneuver of placing Eliza in Lady Bellingham’s household to act as Kate’s personal maid. He smiled in the dim light of his carriage at what Eliza had told him about Kate’s behavior after her meeting with Lady Bellingham. Kate had been a caged tiger, Eliza had informed him, pacing her bedroom, hurling invectives at his head, until finally, her anger spent, she had grown quiet. “Too quiet, if you know what I mean, my lord. She’s smart, is Miss Katharine, and she’s no coward. She’s madder at you than my ma ever was at my pa, even when he was drunk.”

Actually, Eliza’s description had fit well with his own prediction of Kate’s reaction. Well, he would soon see. He had chosen Kemble’s Macbeth deliberately for their first meeting, fairly certain that Lady Bellingham would drop off to sleep by the second act, leaving Kate for all practical purposes alone with him. She wouldn’t be able to yell at him for fear of waking her kind hostess, nor would she be able to leave the box, for she was well aware that such behavior would cause endless speculation. Besides, if she left the box, where would she go?

He grinned quietly to himself, remembering the speculation he himself had caused when he had invited Hugh and Percy to dine with him upon his return to London. That they had thought his scheme a little mad, in fact, became obvious as the evening wore on.

Hugh had finally said, “You must forgive us, Julien, for appearing to think your behavior strange.”

“Beyond damned strange, if you ask me,” Percy said.

Hugh said, “It’s just that we’ve never seen you go to such lengths over a lady.”

Hugh’s mildly spoken observation brought a quick smile to Julien’s face. “Do not trouble yourselves,” he said cheerfully, “for believe me, I’ve quite given up trying to explain my damnably strange behavior. But I will have her, and I plan to do whatever necessary to get her. I fear that’s all there is to it.”

Hugh grinned. “Well, it appears that we must again offer you our congratulations.”

Both men raised their glasses and Percy said, “To a well-fought and successful campaign. May the best man— or lady— win.”

“The chit doesn’t stand a chance,” Hugh said. “No matter that red hair of hers.”

“I hope she serves you up some nasty turns before you nab her, Julien. It would be good for your character.”

Actually, he thought she’d given him enough of a nasty turn already. He wondered how many more she’d give him.

Julien roused himself and pulled the white-satin curtain away from the carriage window. Lord, he thought, Wilbury was certainly taking him at his word. He settled back again against the luxurious cushions and let his mind wander to Yvette and Lady Sarah, reflecting with a certain degree of relief that he had no more to worry about in regard to either of them. He had most willingly given his blessing to Lord Riverton in his pursuit of Yvette. But the Lady Sarah had been a more serious matter.

“Julien, my dear, I’d quite thought that you’d decided to immure yourself forever in the country.” Sarah had greeted him in her high, breathless voice. Always aware of gossiping servants, she had led him to a small parlor on the second floor of Lord Ponsonby’s mansion in Portsmouth Square. She was elegantly dressed in a riding habit of blue velvet and looked to be on the verge of leaving.

“You’re going out?” He said, as he took her small hand for a brief moment and raised it to his lips.

She made a small, fluttering gesture, fanning her hand in front of her, and gave him an arch smile. “It will do Lord Davenport no harm to wait half an hour,” she said softly.

Julien realized that she hoped to provoke him to jealousy, but he felt only relief at the mention of Lord Davenport. A man of great address was Sir Edward. Julien had never before thought of the affected viscount with such fondness.

Sarah moved away from him and sat down gracefully on a small sofa, patting the place beside her.