A Most Scandalous Proposal by Ashlyn Macnamara Page A

new but insistent reaction she experienced in his presence. Soon, it would become impossible to ignore. Years of friendship had proven he wasn’t like the other men of the
ton
, but his experience with the cavalry had deepened those familiar traits. He’d grown graver, more earnest. His presence, his person, might swallow her so easily until the essential Julia became lost, the same way Sophia had lost herself in her unrequited
tendre
over the past few years.
    “With any luck,” Upperton went on, “the torture will be over soon.”
    “Perhaps next year, you’ll convince your mother of the futility of the exercise,” Benedict said.
    Upperton plucked at his impeccably knotted cravat, pulling it slightly askew. “The woman is as tone-deaf as my sisters. She’s convinced they’re prodigies. Next year, I believe I shall sneak off to my club and get thoroughly foxed.”
    Benedict raised an eyebrow. “How’s that any different from what you do most nights?”
    Upperton elbowed him. “Now, now, not in front of the ladies. I’ve got a reputation to preserve.”
    “I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.” Julia hid her grin behind her fan. “Unless you’re referring to your reputation as a wastrel.”
    He put a hand over his heart, further wrinkling his cravat. “Miss Julia, you wound me.” Then he winked. “And you definitely spend too much time with Revelstoke if you’re bandying such terms as wastrel about.”
    “Do you think so?” Over the lace edging of her fan, she widened her eyes. “It seems to me that after the time he spent with the cavalry, he could teach me some more interesting words.”
    Upperton blinked. Then he threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. “Miss Julia, I cannot believe some fortunate fellow hasn’t yet snapped you up.” He offered her his elbow. “If you’d consent to stroll with me, we might discuss a remedy to the situation.”
    Julia smiled demurely and lowered her lashes. “And put a black mark on your reputation? I would not dream of it.”
    Benedict arched a brow. “Besides, she has better taste than that.”
    Upperton’s gray glance darted from one to the other. Then with a flourish, he stepped aside, leaving Benedict next to Julia. “Have the pair of you ever thought of making a go of things?”
    Julia studied the pointed toes of her slippers peeking from beneath her gown. Blast Upperton for suggesting the same thing her sister had. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Benedict’s polished shoes—they shifted as he shuffled his feet. A thrill passed through the pit of her stomach, similar to the feeling of whirling in his arms to the strains of the waltz.
    Upperton gave a small cough. “Have you considered any children you produced would be the absolute terrors of their schoolmasters?” He stepped closer, his expressionimploring. “It’d be perfect revenge. Put their names down for Eton the moment they’re born.”
    Heat crept up Julia’s cheeks, and she prayed the flickering candlelight in the corridor was dim enough to mask her reaction. She slanted a glance at Sophia, who was doing a poor job of hiding a smile behind her fan. No help from that quarter.
    Benedict’s shoes advanced a step. “That will do.”
    His words held a tone of command that Julia had never heard from him before. She suspected he’d perfected it during the war. Upperton, at any rate, took the hint immediately. “Yes, quite.”
    Over the rose silk of her fan, Sophia’s eyes glittered annoyingly. If they could talk, they would have proclaimed, “It looks as if I’ve hit on something delicious.”
    Julia cleared her throat. “The musicale must be over by now.”
    Upperton put his hand to his ear and made a show of wincing. “Not quite. I almost recognize the last movement to Mozart’s sonata in C.”
    Julia took her sister’s arm. “Mama will wonder why we’ve been gone so long. We ought to get back.”
    Just as she took a step toward the conservatory, Ludlowe