Chapter Twenty

Gregory was less than thrilled at the idea of his wife parading into a society tea with an assortment of his former conquests.

“Of all the perverse women I’ve known in my life, you rank at least in the upper five.” He practically growled his disapproval as Julia finished dressing for the Carter Club tea, and it gave her pleasure to see him so surly. The more she irritated him, the more passionately he forced her to repent her waywardness. When she returned home from the outing, she imagined Gregory would be so apoplectic that he’d be ready to tie her up in literal knots. Speaking of…

“Lady Clifton mentioned a Neapolitan Knot when we last met.” Julia added a dab of lavender oil to her wrists, completing her toilette while her husband prowled behind her. She watched him in the mirror, enjoying her show.

“If you go to this blasted tea, you won’t be receiving any special treatment. In fact, I swear I’ll never touch you again.”

Julia bit back some laughter as she stood and smoothed her frock once. That was a vow they both knew bloody well he’d never be able to keep.

“I doubt we’ll speak of you at all, Your Grace. The ladies seem desperate to know more about me, the woman who tamed you.”

“Just tell me you aren’t walking into this lionesses’ den alone.”

“Of course not. Lady Weatherford will accompany me.” Gregory knew Laura would never let any harm come to her, and relaxed.

“A wife should bend to her husband’s will on this,” he muttered. But the duke took her into his arms as he spoke, probably hoping to entice Julia into a deeper embrace. Which would lead to an afternoon spent in bed. Which would leave her no time at all for tea. Tempting as the thought was, Julia kissed her husband and stepped out of his arms. A bloody difficult business, that.

“I’m afraid I rather like bending to my own will.” Julia kissed him once more, forcing herself not to capitulate any further. “But I shall be home soon.”

“And I shall have to think of ways to make you more obedient,” he said. “Perhaps tying you to the bed would be the correct way to start.”

“I look forward to your endeavors.” Julia smiled.

…

The Carter Club gathered at Elizabeth Woodhouse’s home in Hanover Square, and Julia was relieved to see that most of them were not dressed in mourning anymore. There were about fifteen women present, not including Julia and Laura, all of them aged somewhere between five-and-twenty and forty. The women greeted one another warmly, and were in positive raptures when Julia was presented to them.

“My dear friends, allow me to introduce the Duchess of Ashworth.” Elizabeth tittered and waved everyone to their seats. A circle of chairs had been placed in the drawing room, with trays of sandwiches and tea resting upon nearby tables. “I daresay she’s accomplished what most would have believed impossible.”

“You’re a hero, my lady.” A younger woman nearly swooned as she took a cup of tea. “You must have such stories to tell us.”

“If they’re of a more carnal nature, please don’t.” Laura spoke to Julia from behind her teacup. “There are some mental images of Ashworth I do not require.”

“I think I should like to know more about all of you,” Julia said evenly, surveying the room filled with delighted faces. “Er, about your interests and pursuits, that is. Those that aren’t related to my husband, if that’s all right.”

To her relief, the women laughed.

“I shall start,” Elizabeth said. “Not only am I hostess of this little gathering, but I’m the original founder of the Carter Club.”

“Indeed?” Julia worried that this might prove an uncomfortable few minutes, but Elizabeth Woodhouse proudly gestured to the paintings hung upon the eastern wall, right between the windows.

“Most here will tell you a similar story, Your Grace. We lost ourselves in marriage. Some of us love our husbands dearly, you understand, but women in our society are raised with only one purpose in mind our entire lives: to be wed. When we attain that goal, well…” Elizabeth sighed as she stood and made her way over to the artwork. “I for one realized I’d no concept of who I truly was, or what I desired. Such realizations can make for a very bleak life indeed.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathering. Julia noticed Lady Clifton wipe away a tear with the corner of her handkerchief. Mrs. Pankhurst had got into the biscuits again, and ate one with sadness.

“I understand,” Julia said.

“You see, that’s why we all cherished our time with the duke so highly. The man is a sensational lover, to be certain.” Elizabeth heaved a sigh, echoed by the rest of the women save Julia and Laura. “But he ignited other passions beyond the physical in many of us. For instance, look!” She gestured to the paintings. “I was so transformed by our time together that I began to paint scenes inspired by erotic myth. Women are expected to sketch flowers and trees, or to make watercolor portraits of their children’s pets. But now I’ve learned to love my art! It inspires me with so much joy. Observe, if you will, my own rendition of Cupid and Psyche!”

Julia stood and more closely inspected the painting, which was actually quite a handsome image. A young woman held a candle and leaned over the gorgeous, naked figure of a sleeping man.

“My, but Cupid looks rather like…” Oh dear. “The duke. Doesn’t he?”

“I’m afraid that all my heroes are modeled after His Grace.” Elizabeth clucked her tongue. “What can I say? Inspiration is a potent drug.”

“Indeed.” Julia surveyed the next portrait, Lancelot and Guinevere locked in an embrace. Lancelot, of course, looked rather like Gregory. She had to admit, Elizabeth was a talented artist. “May I ask, what does your husband think of your newfound calling?” She couldn’t imagine the man loved his wife painting romantic pictures of a former lover.

“At first, he didn’t think much of it,” Elizabeth said. “But eventually my paintings fanned the flames of his own carnal imagination. We are ever so much closer now as husband and wife.”

“In truth, most of us have improved our marriages,” Lady Clifton added. “Ashworth showed us what we were missing in the bedchamber, but as Elizabeth has said, he gave us further inspiration!”

“I’ve begun a charitable institution that instructs disadvantaged young women in various trades,” Mrs. Pankhurst offered.

“My husband and I now breed bloodhounds,” one of the older women said. “It’s finally given us something to talk about other than the children!”

“My husband and I host weekend-long parties of general debauchery at our estate.” One of the younger women sighed with pleasure. “We’ve learned our marriage is ever so much happier with more people in it!”

“Oh my God,” Laura whispered.

Julia was shocked as well, but also strangely proud of Gregory. At first, she’d thought him nothing more than a man who used and discarded women and made husbands furious. But how many ton marriages had he also repaired, not only with his talents as a lover, but with his passion for living?

“The duke has a great deal of spirit,” she said. “Whoever he’s with benefits from it.”

“Indeed!” Elizabeth beamed. “Oh, and I’ve also begun to expand my artistic talents into sculpture. I’m told it’s wrong for a lady to work with her hands in such a manner, but I find I can’t help myself. Look! Here’s my attempt at Adonis.” She gestured to a smaller statue upon a table to the back.

“I can’t look.” Laura moaned, quickly turning her head away.

“It’s an…exact likeness.” Julia found every chiseled detail of her husband’s form in the entirely naked work of art.

More and more of the women offered up their own stories. One had begun writing poetry, while another wished to begin a philosophical salon. Another lady had thrown herself fully into motherhood, while another was making plans to set sail for the West Indies. Above all else, they were in positive raptures about the physical happiness Gregory had inspired in them, and in their husbands, too.

“You needn’t be so shocked, Lady Weatherford.” Elizabeth offered her a sugared almond biscuit. “We are all married ladies here. No one should be scandalized!”

Laura was doing her best to conceal her horror, which Julia greatly appreciated.

“You can look at this one,” Julia said, luring her friend over to admire another of Elizabeth’s paintings. “Gregory, I mean, Romeo is fully clothed in this one.”

Laura groaned and found a spot where she might sit down a minute. Well, she was pregnant.

“I hope this hasn’t been too unusual an afternoon, Your Grace.” Elizabeth wandered over to Julia and sat beside her. She quickly refreshed Julia’s cup. “I can only imagine how this appears from an outside perspective, but please believe that everyone in this room is delighted to have you.”

“I admit I had my doubts,” Julia said. “But meeting you all has been an unexpected pleasure. In fact, it’s only made me esteem my husband more.”

“I can tell you are both a splendid match.” The woman beamed and sipped her tea.

“How long ago were you acquainted with the duke?” Julia asked. Lord, but what a strange question for a wife to ask a former mistress.

“We saw one another for two months when I was up in Edinburgh visiting a cousin. That would have been almost five years ago now.”

“There are Woodhouses in Edinburgh?”

“Oh no. Woodhouse, naturally, is my husband’s family. My maiden name is Campbell.”

“Campbell?”

Julia frowned as she studied Elizabeth’s features once more. There was still something about her that seemed so familiar, and now the name only heightened that feeling.

“This will sound odd, but we’ve never met before, have we?” Julia asked. “Before you came to call upon me at Carter House, that is.”

“Oh no. I’m certain I’d have recalled meeting you, Your Grace.”

Elizabeth was all sincerity and kindness, but Julia couldn’t shake the ugly feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Now that she looked more closely, she noticed that Elizabeth’s strong nose and large, heavy-lidded blue eyes reminded her of someone else. Someone she’d not seen in ten years. Sickness began to knot at the pit of her stomach with the realization.

“Mrs. Woodhouse, do you have any brothers?”

“Sadly no. Three younger sisters.”

Julia’s heart slowed with her relief, but only for a moment.

“I do have a cousin, though, who might as well be a brother. We grew up together in Northumberland. He’s staying with us for the Season, as it happens.”

Julia could not stop herself from speaking the name.

“Mr. Lucas Campbell?”

“Oh! Have you met before?” Elizabeth appeared delighted by the thought.

Julia felt as if the ground was cracking open beneath her feet. She needed to behave well; she couldn’t afford for anyone to gossip.

“We met years ago.” Thankfully, she kept her voice light. “Now I know where I thought I’d seen you before. The two of you bear such a strong resemblance.” Julia smiled even as she began to scream deep down inside. Thankfully, tea should be almost finished. It would not appear strange for her to make an exit now. Julia set her cup down and rose slowly. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Woodhouse. This has been a most, er, memorable afternoon.”

“Oh, must you leave so soon, Your Grace?” Elizabeth appeared disheartened, but the risk of running into Lucas was worse than a slight breach of etiquette.

“It’s on my account, I’m afraid.” Laura was only too happy to leave the rather strange gathering. “My doctor says I must not overexert myself these next few months.”

Julia could have kissed the woman. She and Laura made a polite farewell and left. As the steward showed them to the door, Julia glanced around but saw no trace of Lucas. When the front door shut behind the women, Laura tilted her face to the London sky and exhaled in relief.

“I’m only delighted Mrs. Woodhouse hasn’t taken to crocheting erotic tea cozies of your husband. Julia? My dear, whatever’s the matter?”

Laura did not know about Lucas Campbell. No one except for Constance, Susannah, and the servants at Pennington Hall knew. And now Gregory, of course. For years, Julia had nursed the pain of that experience in private, too ashamed to let anyone else know. Even now, as the Duchess of Ashworth, she found it too difficult to tell her dearest friend.

But if Lucas Campbell was in London for the Season, then Julia knew she must tell her husband.