‘I may have also mentioned to Lady Morley that you might consider their daughter.’
Julian had stopped listening to his mother moments before, but that declaration caught his attention. The pounding in his head increased. He would not let her dictate which woman he would marry—not this time.
‘It was not your place to speak for me,’ he bit out.
‘I made no promises, but surely you see you cannot keep wasting your time with Lady Wentworth. That woman is an unacceptable choice. Her family is of no true consequence. It is time you secured this line. If Edward hadn’t been foolish enough to race his horse that day we would at least have had him as your immediate heir. But with his death the line falls to your grandfather’s incompetent nephew, should you perish, and he will destroy our good name.’
A familiar hollow feeling opened in Julian’s chest—which was why he never wanted to think about Edward. The way his mother had so callously mentioned his dear brother’s death fuelled the anger welling up inside him. Was there ever a time that she thought of either of them as more than a necessary part of fulfilling her own duty to bear an heir and a spare?
‘You have avoided marriage long enough,’ she continued. ‘It’s high time you fulfil your duty to marry again and finally bear an heir. Lady Mary will make us a perfect duchess. You should be thanking me for saving you from the trying task of finding you a suitable wife.’
‘Thanking you?’ he sputtered. ‘You chose a wife for me once. It did not end well. You will not dictate my choice to me again.’
His mother appeared hesitant to say more, and the tension eased somewhat in his shoulders. Maybe he would be lucky enough to have her abandon the conversation entirely.
‘At least consider Lady Mary.’
Or maybe she would continue to pester him till he lost his appetite completely!
He swallowed a mouthful of tepid coffee and pushed the cup away in disgust.
Before he could reply, his mother rushed ahead. ‘She is from a prominent family, has been trained from birth to assume such a title, is accomplished, and appears strong for breeding. You could not possibly require anything else.’
But he did. He felt it. Only he wasn’t certain what it could be. He simply knew he could not continue this conversation while he was still suffering from lack of sleep. This decision was too important—and his coffee was cold.
‘You never did say who you were with last night on the Ambassador’s terrace.’
‘No, I did not.’
His mother held out her cup for more tea. A footman immediately appeared at her side. She wasn’t leaving the table any time soon. Julian rose from his chair and dropped his napkin onto the table.
His grandmother glanced at his untouched plate and looked at him with soft, sympathetic eyes. ‘You have not eaten a thing. Surely you must be hungry? Would you like Reynolds to fetch you something else?’
Her genuine concern softened some of his anger. ‘No, thank you.’
‘I could have a tray sent to your study. Surely we can find something to tempt you?’
‘There is no need. I believe I have lost my appetite.’
* * *
Hart’s breakfast room was blissfully quiet. No one was pestering him to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life. Julian knew he needed to marry soon. He couldn’t keep delaying the inevitable. The longer he waited, the younger the girls would be. However, each time he considered marrying again his stomach would do an uncomfortable flip. This time was no different.
Why couldn’t he find a woman among the ton like the American woman who had captivated him last night? Staring sightlessly at his plate, Julian gave a slight start when Hart’s butler cleared his throat.
‘Is there anything else you require, Your Grace?’
‘Actually, Billings, would you see if His Lordship has any lemon curd?’
The butler exited the room as a sleepy Hart wandered in, wearing a black brocade dressing gown. A lock of hair covered his heavy-lidded blue eyes. Hart’s gaze followed his butler as Billings re-entered the room and placed a Wedgwood bowl before Julian.
‘So this is what my breakfast room looks like,’ Hart said through a yawn. ‘I was told you were here, however, I didn’t believe it.’ He dropped into his chair and stared in horror at his friend’s toast. ‘What has happened to the butter?’
‘It’s lemon curd.’ Julian took a bite of toast and closed his eyes, savouring the flavour.
‘I’ve never seen you eat lemon curd before. I did not even know I had lemon curd—and why the bloody hell are you putting it on your toast?’
‘I have no idea.’ Julian took another bite and wiped his lips with his napkin. ‘I woke with the oddest desire for lemons.’
Hart accepted a cup of coffee from Billings and reclined in his chair. ‘So what has brought you to my door at this ungodly hour of the morning?’
‘It’s past ten—hardly ungodly.’
Hart stilled, his cup halfway to his lips. ‘In all the years you have known me, and with all you know about me, do you really think I rise anywhere near this hour?’
‘Point taken. Your coffee is quite good. I do not believe I’ve tasted it before.’
‘That’s because you knew enough not to come here for breakfast. Now, enjoy this pot. I do not expect you to bother me for breakfast again any time soon.’
Julian continued to eat his toast. Lemon curd on toast was exceptional. He licked his lips, wondering why he hadn’t thought of eating it before.
‘What does bring you here?’
Perhaps if he talked about it with his friend he might release some of his frustration. Leaning back in his chair, Julian took a final sip from his cup. Billings was at his side in an instant, refilling it. Hart eyed his butler and the man retired from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
‘She wants an heir.’
‘Who?’
‘My mother.’
‘That’s no secret. She has made it quite clear that you have been remiss in fulfilling your duty. Is that why you are here at this hour? You have run away from your mother?’
Julian flung a piece of toast at Hart.
‘I say, that was quite undignified of you.’ His friend picked the toast from his chest and bit into it. ‘This is quite good.’ He licked his fingers. ‘Has she selected another simpering chit for you?’
‘Yes, but this time she has spoken to the family, indicating that I have an interest. She has gone too far.’
‘And who is this paragon of the ton she has so carefully chosen to bear the next Duke?’
‘Lady Mary Morley.’
As if he was trying to recall her name, Hart momentarily shifted his gaze. ‘Could be worse. She has the most delicious-looking breasts I’ve seen. They’re so full and tempting. Here—pass the lemon curd over.’ He picked up the bowl from Julian’s hand, dipped his spoon in and licked it clean. ‘See...now you’ve done it. I will not be able to look at Lady Mary’s delectable breasts without recalling this taste.’
‘Would you please focus?’
‘I am!’ Hart took another scoop of lemon curd.
‘On my problem, dolt!’
‘I would if I saw one! You’ve told me you need to marry again. She is a better