Page 16 of Wild Lily
“It won’t matter. Your father cannot persuade me to receive him.”
“Or buy him for you?”
Marianne whirled to face her, her brows knit. “No. Not at any price.”
* * *
“Remy is late.” Julian’s mother dropped her lorgnette on its gold chain to her chest and peered at him as if it were his fault Remy had not appeared on time. To irritate him, she always criticized the Frenchman over any trifle. A stickler for rules, she might be. But she hid behind them, as she did most strictures, for her own devices. This she used to needle him with his choice of his very unconventional friend. “We cannot wait longer or we shall miss my favorite aria.”
Julian glanced about at those chatting in the rotunda of the new Paris Garnier Opera house. These were the season’s ticketholders, men clad in tuxedoes and top hats, the ladies wrapped in diamonds, feathers and silks. He had greeted those he knew, and those whose financial interests were similar to his. “I’ll escort you up to our box, if you wish, Mama.”
“I do.”
Julian was in no mood to argue with her. His head still clanged from his outing last night and this morning’s accident. The surprise of his preoccupation with the Hanniford girl added to his discomfort. No amount of rest had rid him of the obsession with her pale blue eyes. Plus, the brief but bitter meeting this afternoon with his French partner in Cardiff Shipping had certainly not improved his attitude toward her or her father. Tonight, he’d agreed to attend this opera only because his sister wished his escort. God knew, he did not favor an evening in his mother’s company. He had quite enough of her at home. But he wished to please his young sister who adored the dramatic doings of operas. He offered one arm to his mother and the other to Elanna. “Shall we?”
Elanna put her hand to his sleeve. Her hazel eyes twinkled in the light from the huge cut glass chandeliers. Dressed in a glistening gown of pink chiffon, she sparkled against the gold and rose of the marble walls. “You are good. I know you prefer Remy’s company.”
“Well, now.” Julian smiled at her. She was such a good-natured girl, pretty with an abundance of rosewood-brown hair and porcelain skin, all of nineteen, finished with her first Season and without a suitor in sight. That pleased him. She was too sweet to shackle at so young an age. If he could continue to win sizably at the tables—or better yet find a suitable investor for the shipping firm—he’d help her remain single for years to come. No respectable but pitiless union for her if he could help it. “I like yours.”
“Of course he does, Elanna.” His mother had to have her say. “He prefers yours to many a girls’. I wish he could say he adored other feminine companions less.”
“Now, Mama,” Elanna scolded their mother as they walked up the gilded side steps of the cavernous Garnier headed for the huge rose marble staircase. “Don’t quarrel with Chelton again. I won’t attract a man if I’m scowling at you both.”
“You could peer at a fellow with a dagger in your hand,” he jested, “and the poor chap would hasten to offer for your hand.”
“That would be remarkable,” she conceded with a chuckle. “But still unworthy if he can’t recite Romeo’s speech without faltering.”
Julian shook his head. Aside from her pleasant nature, his darling sister loved books, plays and poetry. She was articulate and funny. Aside from being very popular with young men.
Just that afternoon upon his return home, his feisty little sister had shown proof she could attract one man too many. A scoundrel had applied to his mother just that morning for the honor of courting Elanna. Wisely, the duchess had demurred and told the man she must consult with her son and her husband before approving. And as Julian expected, his mother favored the cad. The resulting row he and his mother had had set drums clanging in his ears, an unwelcome addition to his earlier headache. She had advocated a quick engagement for Elanna to the man, a baron of ancient English blood and little repute. Julian had flatly refused to recommend the scamp to his father. When she had told him they needed Elanna out of the house, on someone else’s dole, Julian had fumed at her. He refused to sell his sister to the first bidder, or even the highest, let alone the most scandalous. Elanna had rushed in to the drawing room, calling for quiet deliberation. She tolerated their mother’s shallow maternal instincts. He recoiled from them.
“You’ve no need for a man just yet.” As they climbed the massive steps, Julian shot his mother a look of reproof and settled on Elanna with a benevolent smile. “Besides, I tell you, darling girl, you must add to your enviable talents for negotiation.”
“You’ll teach me how to play dice and win each time?”
“I think it better if I take you up to my gymnasium for boxing lessons.”
“Oh, ho!” Elanna giggled over that as they took the red-carpeted stairs at a steady pace. “I imagine how that will charm my suitors.”
“Boxing? And give me heart palpitations?” his mother asked. “I forbid it. I absolutely—“
“We know, Mama,” he told her as they continued along the circular corridor toward their private box.“Do not fret, Elanna. We’ll find you a man who loves the sport. Then you can marry him and have at each other every day.”
“I hope the ‘having’ would be more pleasant than that,” she said with a wink.
His mother snapped open her fan. “Really. You encourage her. I disapprove.”
Elanna sighed, casting about to admire the well-dressed throng of Parisians eager for a night of opulent music. “Doesn’t everyone look marvelous? And don’t you adore this building? Who decorated the interior? Do you know, Chelton?”
“No idea.” The Paris Garnier overwhelmed him. The heavy limestone, the omni-present gilt, the wealth of dangling crystal chandeliers, the thick blood red carpet, the gargantuan size of the place took his breath. Sucked it right out him. Like a monster. He always hurried to his seat. Once in a box, surrounded by more ordinary dimensions of the red velvet privacy walls and appointed chairs, he found air and space and peace.
He patted Elanna’s hand. “You love its grandeur. I understand that. Even if I don’t appreciate it.”
Elanna adored expansive buildings, bustling city thoroughfares and garrulous people. She was effusive, alluring in her ready acceptance of the universe. That included her embrace of avante-garde music, impressionist painting and all sorts of unconventional people. Men flocked to her, finding her exuberance enchanting. Last spring in London, two had seen her as fair prey. Julian had discouraged them easily, describing Elanna’s depleted dowry and sending them packing. His parents never knew. He prided himself on a few scruples, yet for his sister, he wished to find a man with hundreds. Refreshing to be with, Elanna was a treasure Julian intended to guard. No roué nor chap with debts long as his arm would darken her path if he could help it. He’d welcome a rich man, but finding one of those in these dire financial times for a poor duke’s only daughter would be a miracle.
“Your Grace! Lord Chelton!” A tall, hawkish gentleman approached them along the gallery. “Lady Elanna. How wonderful to see all of you here.”
“Lord Carbury.” His mother inclined her head as the earl strolled up to them. “We’re delighted to see friends from home.”
