The Earl's Inconvenient Wife. Julia Justiss

Temperance Lattimar wouldn’t be his problem. Until the day some other poor man assumed that responsibility—or until he bowed to the inevitable, gave in to his mother’s ceaseless haranguing and found a wealthy wife to remove the burden of his upkeep from the family finances—he would simply enjoy the novelty of her company.

      And keep his attraction to her firmly under control.

      He looked up to find both Christopher and Gregory staring at him. Feeling his face heat, he said, ‘She’s still as much a handful as she was at six, isn’t she?’

      Gregory and Christopher both sighed. ‘Pru will do what she must to fit in, but I’m uneasy about Temper,’ Christopher said. ‘That’s one female who should have been born a man.’

      Suppressing his body’s instinctive protest at that heresy, Gifford said, ‘I would love to see her on the floor of the house, ripping into the Tories who natter on about how disruptive to Caribbean commerce a slavery ban would be.’

      ‘She would be magnificent,’ Christopher agreed. ‘But since female suffrage is unlikely to occur in her lifetime, we had better be thinking of some other options. I don’t think she’s going to have much luck squeezing any money out of Vraux.’

      Knowing how much tension existed between Christopher and the legal, if not biological, father who had ignored him all his life, Gifford said, ‘Probably not. But I’d love to be the parlour maid dusting outside the library door when she tries to talk him into letting her equip a caravan to journey to the pyramids!’

      * * *

      As it turned out, Christopher had left, but Gifford was just striding down the hallway towards the front door when Temper, with an exasperated expression, descended the stairs from the library that was Lord Vraux’s private domain.

      ‘I take it the response wasn’t positive.’

      She let out a frustrated huff. ‘As I feared, he barely noticed I’d entered the room. You know how he is when he’s in the midst of cataloguing his latest acquisitions! I stationed myself right in front of him and waved my hands until he finally looked at me, with that little frown he has when he’s interrupted. In any event, he listened in silence and then motioned me away.’

      Gifford knew from Gregory’s descriptions how averse the baron was to being touched. Still, it must hurt his children that their father seemed unable to give—or receive—any sign of affection.

      ‘Did he say...anything? Or just go back to cataloguing?’

      She shook her head in disgust. ‘He said I needed to have a Season so I could “get married and be protected”. That women need to be protected. I couldn’t help myself—I had to ask if that was why he’d married Mama. But he didn’t respond, just returned his attention to the display table and picked up the next dagger.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Rather made me wish I could have picked up a dagger!’

      Despite the baron’s staggering wealth, which meant Gregory had never, as Giff had when they were at school together, gone hungry or had to get his clothes patched instead of ordering new ones, Gifford had always felt sorry for the Lattimar children. Possessed of a mother who, though loving, had made herself such a byword that her daughters’ acceptance in society had been compromised, and a father who acted as if they didn’t exist.

      ‘I’m glad you didn’t grab a dagger,’ he said lightly, trying to ease her disappointment. ‘The news that you’d stabbed your father, coming on top of the scandal of the duel, would further complicate your debut.’

      She gave a wry chuckle. ‘Thank you, Giff, for trying to cheer me up. I guess I shall be cursed with a Season after all. But I can’t bear thinking about it right now, so please don’t summon Gregory and call another strategy session just yet.’

      She heaved another sigh. ‘I’d rather have a shot of Gregory’s brandy, but I’ll settle for tea. Won’t you take some with me?’ she asked, waving him back towards the parlour. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk with you since you took up your seat in Parliament.’

      When had he ever been able to turn her down? Curiosity over what she might say always lured him in—as it did now, despite his unease over the physical response she sparked in him. ‘I suppose I can spare a few more minutes.’

      ‘Giff, a serious, sober parliamentarian,’ she said in wondering tones as, after snagging a footman to send for tea, she led him back to the parlour. ‘That’s a notion that takes some getting used to! Wasn’t it just last year that seeing you at this time of the morning would have meant you and Gregory were returning from your night’s revels?’

      Laughing, she gazed up at him, her glorious eyes teasing, her smiling mouth an invitation to dalliance. Sucking in a quick breath, he slammed his eyes shut. This is your friend’s little sister. You can’t let yourself think this way about her.

      Maybe it would help if he didn’t look right at her. Or sit close enough to smell the subtle jasmine scent that surrounded her, whispering of sultry climes and sin.

      Seating himself a safe distance away, he protested, ‘Not last year!’

      ‘Well, maybe the year before. Gregory was just turned five-and-twenty when he inadvertently discovered what a muddle the estate books at Entremer were in and decided the heir must sort things out, since Papa obviously had little interest in doing so.’

      ‘And you must admit, he’s done an admirable job.’

      ‘Who would have thought it? His most admirable achievement up to that point had been drinking three bottles of port in a night between entertaining three ladies. While in your company, as I remember, although he didn’t divulge your totals.’

      ‘How did you—?’ Giff sputtered, feeling his face heat.

      Temperance chuckled. ‘Greg and Giff, what a pair, the two of you! When you staggered into our front hallway at eight in the morning, singing ribald songs, Gregory boasting of his prowess at the top of his lungs... In euphemisms, of course, but Pru and I knew very well what he was referring to.’

      ‘Sometimes you girls are too perceptive,’ Giff muttered.

      ‘If we learned at an early age about dealings virginal maidens should have no knowledge of, that wasn’t exactly our fault, was it?’ she argued, an edge in her voice.

      The footman returned with the tea tray and, for a moment, conversation ceased while she poured. Once they both had a cup of the steaming brew, she continued, ‘I must say, I was rather surprised when Gregory told us you’d decided to stand for Parliament.’

      ‘Young men must sow their wild oats, I suppose, but eventually one must consider how one intends to make his mark on the world. Especially we younger sons, who can’t look forward to having an estate to run.’ Especially younger sons who’ve been virtually shut out by their family, all the attention of father and mother lavished on the son who would inherit, he added silently, feeling a familiar slash of pain at that stark reality.

      ‘Joining the Reform politicians is a choice I can admire! Are you finding the workings of Parliament as stimulating as you’d hoped?’

      Gratification at her praise distracted him from both his pain and the smouldering anger her unfortunate situation so often sparked in him. Honest, direct and highly intelligent, Temper never flattered, and offered praise sparingly. Despite her youth, of all the females of his acquaintance, she was probably the one whose approval meant the most to him.

      ‘I have to admit, I was dubious when Gregory and Christopher first urged me, but...it is stimulating.’

      ‘You’ve found your calling, then.’

      He smiled. ‘I think I have. To stand on the floor of the House and realise that what you do there, calling for an end to slavery or for restricting the employment of children in factories, will better the lives of thousands, here and across England’s possessions! It’s both humbling and thrilling. Even if change doesn’t go as far or happen