believe Mr Vandenberg’s daughter arranged this.’
‘His daughter? How would she know?’
‘I mentioned it to her yesterday, when we spoke at Hatchards.’
‘How very delightful of her. You have never said that you are acquainted with the family.’
‘I am only acquainted with the daughter.’
His grandmother arched her brow. That was not a good sign. ‘Just the daughter? How unusual for you. How did you make her acquaintance?’
‘A mutual friend,’ replied Julian, picking a speck of lint off the sleeve of his navy tailcoat.
‘I see. And is the lady in question married?’
‘She is not.’
‘And how long have the two of you been acquainted?’
‘Not long.’
Her eyes narrowed, causing Julian to shift restlessly in his seat.
‘Tell me about this girl.’
‘She is not a girl.’
‘How old is she?’
‘I do not know. I thought it wasn’t polite to enquire.’
His grandmother chuckled. ‘When the lady in question is my age, it absolutely is not. But for a younger one I do not think it at all beyond the pale.’
‘And a lady of your age would be how old, exactly?’
‘You impertinent man—we are discussing your friend, not me.’
‘And why exactly are we discussing Miss Vandenberg?’
‘She had her father send me this lovely book. I am curious as to what kind of girl would do such a thoughtful thing. You say she did this completely without your influence?’
‘I doubt the lady could be influenced into doing anything at my bidding,’ he muttered.
‘Nonsense—you are Lyonsdale.’
‘At the moment that fact does not seem to be to my advantage with her.’
‘Why not?’
‘Miss Vandenberg is a little cross with me at the moment, due to my title.’ He knew it was absurd, and saying it out loud made it appear more so.
‘I do not understand. Does she not realise the significance of your station?’
‘She does. However, I do not believe she cares.’
‘Because she is an American?’
‘Because she is Miss Vandenberg. In truth, I find at times that she baffles me with her logic.’ And his reaction to her mere presence baffled him more.
His grandmother tilted her head and he realised he’d said too much. Miss Vandenberg wasn’t a woman he was courting, or even a woman he should be thinking of courting. And yet he’d told his grandmother more about her than he had about any other woman.
Knowing that she was annoyingly perceptive, he knew he needed to place distance between them before she started asking a litany of questions. He pushed himself off the chair and walked to the window overlooking Grosvenor Square.
‘Would you take me to Almack’s tonight?’ she called to him.
Dear God, he should have just left the room. The last place he ever wanted to go was Almack’s. He might as well place a notice in the Morning Chronicle, stating that he was shopping for a wife.
‘Why in the world would you want me to do that?’ he asked, trying to think of an excuse as to why he could not take her. ‘You’ve been going there for years without me.’
‘Yes, and it is about time you used those vouchers of yours. Each year you pay for them, and each year you never use them.’
He wasn’t giving in. Her reasoning wasn’t good enough.
She rubbed her knees and sighed. ‘If I don’t move these bones they may stiffen permanently.’
Crossing his arms, he arched a sceptical brow. If the woman hadn’t been born into the aristocracy, she might have made a fine living on the stage.
‘I do not have many years left,’ she continued. ‘Is it so wrong for me to wish to spend time with my grandson? I rarely see you any more, with all the time you are spending with Lord Kenyon’s committee and other Parliamentary affairs.’
She blinked a few times, and Julian wasn’t certain if he saw tears in her eyes.
Should he remind her that they saw each other most mornings over the breakfast table? He searched the frescoed ceiling for an answer, but the cherubs just laughed down at him. He allowed her to live with him in London during the Season because he cared about her, and knew they probably didn’t have many more years left together. Perhaps it was time he hired her a companion and rented her a townhouse.
Letting out a deep breath, Julian knew he was going to regret agreeing to go with her. And yet he was unable to say no.
As Julian stepped into the cavernous assembly room at Almack’s the large mirrors magnified the many women and men who turned to look. Heads poked around the gilt columns to his right, and some people even had the impudence to raise their quizzers at him. This was why he avoided mixing with the likes of the marriage mart. Their unabashed interest in him was tiresome.
He walked further into the room, with his grandmother on his arm and his mother at his other side. They left a buzz of voices in their wake.
‘This is a testament to how much I care for you,’ he whispered down to his grandmother. ‘Do not expect me to escort you here again.’
She blinked up at him innocently and readjusted her hand on his arm. ‘Evenings such as these have a way of turning unexpectedly. You may change your mind.’
‘There is nothing in Christendom that would make me enjoy myself tonight,’ Julian replied through a polite smile, knowing the people around them were trying to listen to their conversation.
His mother nodded regally at the Duchess of Skeffington and Lady Harlow. Julian knew his mother was not fond of the gossipy pair. He wasn’t either, and had no qualms about pretending he did not see them.
‘You are shocking people tonight with your presence, Lyonsdale,’ his mother said from behind her fan. ‘They see a man in search of a wife. Perhaps you might consider announcing your intentions and quelling their interest?’
‘Madam, tonight I have no intention of announcing anything.’
His mother pursed her lips together and looked away. Julian was surprised she hadn’t broached the subject of Lady Mary sooner. He assumed she was here somewhere. Lady Morley would not be remiss in displaying her daughter to the eligible men of the ton. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Tonight he would speak with Lady Mary and discover if he would be able to endure sitting across the breakfast table from her each morning.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the mixed floral scents and the body odour that permeated the room. There would be no escaping to the terrace for some cleaner air tonight. He scanned the room for Lady Mary and stifled a yawn. With all these masses of white spinning about the floor he would never be able to identify her unless she was standing directly in front of him.
He leaned over to his grandmother. ‘Please tell me they have begun serving something more fortifying here than that insipid lemonade.’
‘I wish I could—but that is what flasks are for, my boy,’ she whispered, patting her reticule.
From the corner of his eye he spied Lady Morley, heading their way. Before he was able to summon an excuse to avoid having