Julia shut the door to her chamber and leaned against it, one hand covering her lips that still tingled from Alec’s kiss. Though her knees quivered like newly formed aspic, she managed to walk to the settee and collapse against the cushions.

“You are supposed to be reforming him, you wretch,” she muttered to herself. Pulling one of the pillows closer, she hugged it to her. It was the very pillow he had slept on the night before, when he had so chivalrously allowed her the use of his bed.

Darn the man. She wished he would just decide what he was: a hardened rake in need of reforming, or a pretender with a generous heart. He couldn’t be both.

Pressing a shaking hand to her temple, she leaned her cheek against the pillow. All this sensation from a simple kiss. No wonder the man was attracted to libertine activities. One could easily get addicted to the thrill of such sensations, wanting more and more, until thinking became an impossibility, and—

“Stop it,” she chastised herself. “He is a rake. A kiss means nothing to him and should mean nothing to you.”

She caught sight of her blurred reflection and put aside the pillow to stand in front of the beveled mirror. Confound the man for taking her spectacles. He seemed to be making a habit of it. Julia leaned across the gleaming wood surface until she could see her reflection.

Her hair was a mess, one curl drooping piteously over her shoulder. Yet for all her disheveled appearance, she looked amazingly alive. Of its own accord, her mouth, bruised-looking from the force of his kiss, curved in a tremulous smile. Even her eyes, her only good feature, gleamed with secret warmth. Tousled hair and all, she nonetheless appeared dazedly happy.

“Rakes are known for their lack of decorum as well as their determination to exceed the boundaries of polite society. What you need is to cease mooning about. Alec will not appreciate such a reaction to a simple embrace,” she scolded her reflection.

Yet she couldn’t quite banish the image of his gaze just before he kissed her. He was so incredibly handsome…so beyond her reach.

“He’s your husband, ninny,” she told the dreamy-eyed woman in the mirror. “The man is within easy reach—that’s the problem. Now, wash your face and fix your hair. You’ve work to do. If he ever saw you with such a bird-witted expression, he’d run as though his coattails were afire.”

That much was true. An unmistakable flicker of relief had crossed his face when Burroughs had announced the duke. Already regretting his impulse, he had shoved her behind him, as if embarrassed to have been caught kissing his own wife. Julia refused to admit how much that impulsive gesture had hurt. She rubbed a finger over her still tingling mouth. How could she help him if he kept her in such a muddle she couldn’t think?

Pushing the uncomfortable thoughts aside, Julia tried to repair her fallen hair with the few pins she had left. It wasn’t easy, but she managed a simple arrangement. If she hurried, she would have time to visit the vicar before dark. She couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him about their new funding.

The idea of establishing a factory gleamed before her, bright and beckoning. The Society needed to find an industry that was neither too difficult to establish nor too physically demanding. Charity was an anathema for most of the women they helped. They desired nothing more than to provide for themselves and their families in a respectable way.

As Julia imagined how many women would benefit from Alec’s fortune, her spirits lifted. “Nothing soothes an uneasy heart like a sense of accomplishment,” she said aloud.

A knock on the door startled her. Before she could reply, Mrs. Winston opened it and peered around the corner, her round face beaming pleasantly.

“Whomever were you speaking to, my lady?”

Julia turned from the mirror, hoping she had hidden the ravages of the kiss from the sharp-eyed housekeeper. “I was just, ah, humming.”

“Speaking to yourself, were you?” The housekeeper opened the door further and marched in with a tray. “It’s no wonder, what with the last few days you’ve had. I brought some tea to help calm your nerves.”

“Oh, how thoughtful. But I really should rejoin—”

“Now, don’t you fret. I told Burroughs to make your excuses to the gentlemen as you would be resting.” Mrs. Winston favored Julia with a motherly beam as she set the tray on a small table before the fireplace. “Johnston is carrying up your things. I had him put them in the guest room.”

“But…” Julia looked around the room. Unmistakably male with its dark blue carpet and draperies, naturally this chamber was Alec’s. Of course he would prefer her in the guest chamber and not here. She caught the housekeeper’s curious gaze and her cheeks heated. “I’m sure it is a lovely room.”

Mrs. Winston’s brows lowered. “Well. I wouldn’t say that; the dressing room is scarcely big enough to turn around in. I don’t know where we’ll put your new things as it is. La, I’ve never seen such bounty. You must have emptied the shops.”

“We spent much more than was necessary.” Her own weakness was to blame for that. Alec had taken such delight in buying things, she hadn’t had the heart to protest.

Julia noticed the conspicuous placement of two fine china cups beside the plate of pastries. Mrs. Winston was obviously hoping to stay for a chat. Julia had to tamp down a flicker of impatience. The Society waited, but her new duties as mistress called. She indicated the tray. “The pastries look lovely, Mrs. Winston. Perhaps you’d care to join me?”

The housekeeper’s rosy cheeks bloomed into a pleased pink. “La, I wouldn’t think of it.”

Julia poured tea into a cup and held it out to the housekeeper. “I would appreciate the company. It will keep me from having to talk to myself.”

Mrs. Winston’s face creased in a smile. “If you insist.” She sank onto the sofa and sighed with pleasure, stretching her tiny feet in front of her. Small and round, she reminded Julia of a hot cross bun fresh from the oven.

Julia sat down across from her and couldn’t help but return the warm smile. Alec’s adopted servants were delightful. Gruff Johnston, the groom, had made her laugh aloud with his glum predictions, earning her a grudging smile. He was not nearly as fearsome as he pretended. She had already warmed to Burroughs by the simple knowledge that he brought Alec an evening glass of milk. Such devotion earned her highest regard. And Mrs. Winston was so warm and motherly that Julia felt very comfortable indeed.

The housekeeper slid the plate of pastries toward Julia. “You need to eat something, my lady. Thin as a rail, you are.” She patted her own rounded stomach. “I’m trying to thin down, myself. Lucy Cockerel, the housekeeper at Lord Walcott’s, next door, told me to drink a half cup of vinegar every night afore I went to bed and I’d be as thin as a wisp in no time.”

Julia grimaced. “Pray tell me you don’t do such a noxious thing. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

“I did try it, but only once. I couldn’t get more than a sip down and then I had the strangest dreams. I dreamt I was a potato floating in a sea of creamed sauce, sprinkled with rosemary and thyme.” The housekeeper blinked, her eyes wide. “What do you think that means? They say dreams tell the secrets of the soul.”

Julia chuckled. “I think it means you shouldn’t drink vinegar before bedtime. I certainly hope dreams are nothing more than simple imagination gone astray. I once dreamed I was a shoe someone had thrown away. An unpleasant dream, I assure you, and one I refuse to give any credence to whatsoever.”

“I suppose you are right.” Mrs. Winston looked longingly at the cakes. “Dreams or no, I simply could not continue drinking that vile stuff.”

“Good for you. You don’t need to thin down. Women should be proud of their figures, however they look,” Julia said bracingly.

Mrs. Winston looked down at her pudgy body with a doubtful eye. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course.” Julia patted the housekeeper’s hand. “You look lovely.”

The housekeeper beamed. “I hope Master Alec appreciates what a gem he’s found.”

Julia placed a pastry on a plate and handed it to the housekeeper. “We had a bit of a tiff this morning.”

Mrs. Winston clicked her tongue. “Being difficult, is he? Well, give him some time. Master Alec can be a difficult man, but you’re sure to bring him ’round.” Mrs. Winston poured tea into a cup and handed it to Julia. “He has a way of sneaking into your heart just when you least expect it.”

As if she didn’t already know that. She sipped her tea. “Tell me, Mrs. Winston, does Alec look like his mother?”

“Oh, yes. Miss Anna was a beautiful child and the old lord doted on her. It nigh broke his heart when she ran off with her Scotsman.”

It was inappropriate to gossip with the servants. Julia also knew she should not shamelessly encourage them to tell her every nuance of Alec’s life. But some inner voice chided her for such silly, prudish thoughts. If she wished to help her wayward husband find the error of his wicked ways, she needed all the ammunition she could get. “If the old earl was fond of his daughter, you would think he’d allow her to marry wherever her heart led.”

“Ah, but the old lord thought Miss Anna’s beau was a brazen fortune-hunter, and he demanded that she have no more to do with the poor lad.” The housekeeper sighed. “Miss Anna would not listen. She declared that it was to be her Scotsman or no one.”

“Now I see where Alec gets his stubbornness.”

“All of them, as stubborn as they can hold together. The old lord was livid when Miss Anna refused to heed him and he threatened to lock her in her room.”

“What a silly thing to do! I’ve often noted that men, when faced with a situation they cannot control, overreact and thunder orders as if they were field marshals in some huge battle.”

“That is exactly what happened. The old lord ranted and raved like a madman.” Mrs. Winston took a sip of tea. “To give him credit, he had Miss Anna’s best interests at heart. He was just a bit overprotective.”

“Sole parents usually are.”

“La, yes. He alternately coddled and bullied her. As a result, Miss Anna was more given to her feelings than most.”

Julia refilled the housekeeper’s empty cup. “I’ve no sensibilities at all. One of my failings, I’ve been told.”

“That’s a whisker and no doubt about it,” declared Mrs. Winston stoutly. “I think you possess a very sensitive nature.”

“Oh, no. My father used to say I was all bones and no blood.” Julia chuckled. “He was right, you know. I couldn’t work up a fit of vapors if I tried. I cry only if I’m tired.” She looked at her cup and added, “Or drunk.”

The housekeeper started. “Drunk?”

“Rum punch. Deadly stuff, but quite tasty.”

Mrs. Winston laughed uncertainly. “La, my lady, how you do go on! I’m sure you are as sensitive as any lady should be.” The housekeeper absently helped herself to another cream cake. “Just like Miss Anna. When the old earl brought her back from Scotland after her Scotsman died, she moped about the house for months, draped in black and playing the most dismal music on the pianoforte.”

“That must have been difficult to stand. I can’t abide dark music, myself.” Julia scooted the teapot under the housekeeper’s searching hand.

“Those were sad days, they were. Miss Anna couldn’t look at Master Alec without crying, saying he had his father’s eyes. His lordship was an active mite even then, and he had no time for such silliness as tears. It wasn’t long before he would take to running the opposite way whenever he happened to see his mother coming.”

Julia nodded. It confirmed her notions exactly; Alec was not a man to welcome clinging affections. She would do well to keep that thought firmly in mind.

The housekeeper dabbed at a spot of cream on her chin. “To make matters worse, the old master got the notion that nothing but a season in London would help Miss Anna, so he packed her and the babe into a carriage and off they went.”

Julia thought of all the parties and routs she had attended. Being relegated to the corner of the room with the other chaperones had at least one advantage. One could dispassionately observe the proceedings with very few distractions. “The bustle of the season would not have answered a grieving heart.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” declared Mrs. Winston around a mouthful of pastry. She swallowed noisily. “Miss Anna was more miserable than ever. What the old lord didn’t know was that rumors had already started circulating. People knew she had run away to Scotland with her handsome young man and returned with a babe.” The housekeeper’s broad face puckered in a scowl. “People said Master Alec was naught but a by-blow of Miss Anna’s degenerate connection with a groom.”

Julia replaced her cup in the saucer with a smart snap. “People can be such idiots! I hope the old earl put a speedy end to such nonsense.”

“No one dared tell him. But Miss Anna found out and seemed bent on proving the rumors true. She became wilder and wilder, slipping away with the most ineligible men and staying out past dawn. It all happened so fast that the old lord was at a loss. When he finally realized what was being said, he was so furious he packed up Miss Anna and Master Alec and left town.”

“Without setting things straight?”

The housekeeper took another bite of cake. “There is no halting wagging tongues, my lady. Within the month, Miss Anna fell ill and died. The doctor said it was measles, but I think her heart was broken.”

Julia didn’t bother to ask how measles could be mistaken for a broken heart.

Mrs. Winston sighed. “Poor Master Alec has had to bear his mother’s shame. And children can be the cruelest of all. They called him names and made remarks about his parentage—all sorts of evil things. Poor Master Alec was sent home from school I don’t know how many times for fighting.”

“I can imagine.” Julia rubbed her bottom lip, where she could still feel the pressure of his kiss. “The poor man,” she murmured. Catching Mrs. Winston’s bright gaze, she hurriedly added, “What a burden for a child. It’s a good thing he no longer has to deal with such foolishness.”

“Oh, but he does. No one would have thought it, but those nasty rumors seem to follow him. It’s almost as if someone stirs those stories every so often so no one will forget them. And Master Alec has just enough of Miss Anna in him to prove them all true.”

“I don’t blame him,” Julia said stoutly. “Why should he make a cake of himself, trying to win the approval of a bunch of old rattles with nothing better to do than sit around and repeat a lot of nonsense?”

Twin dimples appeared in Mrs. Winston’s chubby cheeks. “Master Alec needs someone like you, bless me if he doesn’t.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Julia. No wonder he seemed determined to offend polite society with his debauched actions.

The mantel clock gently chimed the hour. “La! Will you look at the time?” The housekeeper scrambled to her feet. “I had best be about my duties.”

“Of course.” Julia replaced her cup on the tray and stood. “I believe I will be going out as well.” If she hurried, there would be just enough time to visit Vicar Ashton.

Mrs. Winston gathered the tray. “Very well, my lady. I’ll have Johnston bring the carriage ’round.”

Julia shook her head. Alec had been harmed enough by wagging tongues. She would be discreet with her work and none would be the wiser. “I don’t need the coach. I’ll call a hack.”

“Lud! It won’t do for you to be riding about town in a hack. Whatever will Master Alec say?”

“I’ll be back before he even misses me. I just need to stop by my aunt’s house and retrieve my belongings.” That much was true. She possessed remarkably few things and it would take only a minute to pack them into a bandbox.

Mrs. Winston’s plump face folded in doubt. “I still think you should let me call Johnston. But I suppose you’ll be all right.” She crossed to the door, stopping just long enough to beam at the empty pastry plate. “At least I know you won’t be leaving hungry.”