Free Dangerous to Love by Elizabeth Thornton

discharge.
    Serena Ward was a complication he had not foreseen.

Chapter Five

    J ames, Earl of Kirkland, shook his head. “The chances of Sir Robert Ward receiving a p-pardon for his p-part in the Rebellion are not very high.”
    This was not what Julian wanted to hear. Nevertheless, he treated Lord Kirkland’s words with the respect they merited. As deputy minister at the War Office, the earl was in a position to know. He was reputed to be a tireless gatherer of information, with spy networks all over England and Scotland. Kirkland had good reason to be cautious. If there were another Jacobite uprising, he was the one who would be called to account.
    They were in the reading room of Julian’s gaming club, a very masculine haven done in shades of beige and brown, and not a flimsy, gilt-edged chair or mirror in sight. Sturdy oak tables and straight-backed armless chairs were set around the room in informal groups. This was the quietest room in the house, where patrons could amuse themselves by reading the latest copy of the
Daily Courant
and other periodicals, or, like his lordship and Julian, engage in quiet conversation. There were several gentlemen in the room, but none of them would have dreamed of imposing himself on a private conversation unless invited, and they expected the same courtesy to be extended to themselves.
    “Others have received pardons,” said Julian. “Why not Sir Robert?”
    “Because,” said the earl, “Sir Robert has defected to the S-Stuarts twice in his lifetime. That makes him a traitortwice over. He is not one to learn from his m-mistakes. He will never give up. He will always plot insurrection.”
    Julian thought about this for a moment. “Jeremy Ward was never of the Jacobite persuasion, was he?”
    “No. Jeremy is not unlike m-me. Whatever we may think of the H-House of Hanover, we know that the Stuarts w-will only lead our country into anarchy. B-better the devil you know than one you don’t know, if you see what I mean.”
    Julian laughed. “That’s a strange thing for one of His Majesty’s ministers to say.”
    Lord Kirkland looked slightly abashed. “What I m-mean to say is that I am for peace and stability.”
    “Yes, and like most Englishmen, you don’t care if a monkey sits on the throne of England?”
    “Quite.” Lord Kirkland signaled to one of the waiters. “Bring us a bottle of Madeira, if you please,” he said.
    Of all Julian’s patrons, Lord Kirkland always received the best attention from the waiters, not only because he tipped generously, but because he was unfailingly polite. Within minutes, the waiter was setting down a bottle of Madeira and two glasses.
    As Lord Kirkland measured out the wine, Julian took a moment or two to study the older man and reflect on their friendship. The earl had made himself known to Julian shortly after he had opened his gaming house. He was half persuaded, the earl had told him in his diffident way, that Julian must be related to him, perhaps a distant cousin on the Egremont side of the family? It turned out that Julian’s likeness to Lord Hugo was uncanny.
    From that remark, Julian deduced that the earl and Lord Hugo had been as different from each other as chalk from cheese, for there was certainly no resemblance between himself and the earl. Kirkland had a thin, asceticface, and his almost Puritan disdain for ornamentation gave him a monklike appearance.
    A distant cousin on the Egremont side of the family? Julian had replied vaguely, revealing nothing. Nevertheless his lordship had convinced himself that Julian was the bastard child of his brother, Hugo. It’s what the earl wanted to believe, was pathetically eager to believe, as if Hugo lived on in Julian. As for his mother, Lady Harriet, she was never mentioned. Julian could not bring himself to raise her name, not trusting himself to speak of her without breaking down like a baby.
    Blinking rapidly, Julian accepted the glass of Madeira his lordship held out to him. He