Page 28 of Wild Lily
Chapter 5
“Good afternoon, Burton,” Julian greeted the aging butler whom his father had brought with him from Shanghai three decades ago when their merchant house had gone bankrupt. “Is His Grace arrived in the library?”
His father had sent a note to his bachelor quarters earlier this morning. The man had been testy of late and Julian would rather face the fire than fan it by not attending his so-called ‘urgent meeting’.
Besides, Julian adored the grand house. On Green Park, the family home of the Dukes of Seton backed to the flowing lawn near the old St. James’s Palace. Not as grand as Spencer House farther up the green, nonetheless, the London residence was as renowned for its Palladian splendor. Maintained year-round by a regular staff of butler, two maids and two footmen, the white stone beauty rose three stories. Drafty as it could be in winter, it was refreshing in spring when the breezes from the park flowed into the jade Peacock salon and washed the wood-paneled library in sparkling sunlight.
“Yes, my lord. He awaits you there.”
Unusual for the old man to summon him with any urgency. What was amiss? The mills? The workers? Julian divested himself of his walking stick, gloves, hat and coat. Tugging on his cuffs, he smiled at the taciturn servant whose good will he always was careful to cultivate. “Excellent. I shall go. Is my sister at home from her calls?”
“Lady Elanna arrived a few minutes ago, my lord. She and Her Grace also await you.”
“Ah.” A family meeting. Rare, those. And not a sign of a topic meant to bring a smile to his lips. Rather it importuned a row. “Thank you. I’ll go up.”
When he opened the door and strode through, Julian breathed in the abject silence—and the anxiety. His father glared at him. His mother took note of his presence and sniffed, her usual sign of impatience. His sister pressed her lips together, her eyes round and intense, pleading with him to save her from whatever evil had befallen her already.
“Good you’re here. Come, come.” His father waved him into his smoke-filled study. Standing before the fire, the old man hooked both hands behind his back and tipped his head toward the only remaining vacant chair. “Have a seat.”
Julian took it, but couldn’t take his gaze from his father. The man was pale. His skin an uncharacteristic color of gray. Whatever today’s topic, it was worse than ever before.
His mother inhaled, her eyes floating along the alabaster mantel. “Now, Seton. Do get on with it, will you?”
“Have a dinner engagement, dearest?” his father chided his mother. “Why should I have to ask?”
“I must change. I hope this will not turn into one of your lectures about the foibles of your ancestors.” Her snipe at him was an old one, centered on the poor traits he’d inherited from his forebears. Like ridiculing his wife.
“Have no time for the recitation, do you, pet?” He turned to face the fire, but the sneer was one Julian heard. Had heard for most of his life.
The duchess was not to be intimidated. “No, none. These meetings of yours are tedious, Seton. I fear you are becoming infirm in your mind.”
His father spun on his heel. At sixty-two, the man might be portly, he might have a shock of silver hair, but he had the black eye of a warlock and the disposition of one, given bait. At that, Julian’s mother was quite expert. “I am not so infirm, as you put it, girlie, as you are at forgetting my orders.”
His mother tsked, rapping her fan softly against her open palm. “You cannot incite me, George. Do be quick.”
“We’re in the shitter!”
She gasped. Her fan fluttered upward to her throat. “There is no need for vulgarity.“
“Oh, there is need.” He strode forward to face her and bend low, his nose nearly touching her own. His nostrils flared. “An urgent one.”
Elanna swallowed loudly.
Julian inhaled, girding for the storm.
“Do you go to Lady Tottingham’s this evening, by any odd chance?” His father was luring his mother with bitter words. “Do you?”
His mother turned her face to one side, her fan to her cheek, separating her from her husband’s breath. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Of course I have!” he bellowed. “I have cause. Just cause. You, my dear gel, give me cause.”
She shot to her feet.
“Sit down.”
“I will not listen—”
“Oh, you will, madam. In fact, you will do a great deal more than that.”
