Juliana (11 page)

But no, she’d come home as always, probably vexed with him for making her dance. That had been the whole idea, hadn’t it? To give her a taste of her own medicine?

“You don’t mind, do you?” Juliana’s eager voice snapped him back to attention. “Lady Amanda is really quite lovely.”

Oh, yes, she wanted him to meet someone. Lady Amanda. Right. “I don’t mind at all,” he lied. “Where is this lovely lady?”

She shot him an unreadable glance before starting across the ballroom. “Follow me, Lord Stafford.”

“James.”

“Pardon?”

He watched her graceful, springy steps as he followed her. “My given name is James.”

She slowed down until he caught up. “We barely know each other, Lord Stafford.”

True. But he’d been thinking of her as Juliana practically since the moment they’d met. Not Lady Juliana, just Juliana.

Odd, that.

“We’ve danced together twice,” he pointed out.

“That hardly makes us intimates.”

Intimates.
To his very great surprise, the word made his face heat. What was wrong with him? He felt like a bashful schoolboy. “Just call me James,” he snapped.

“Very well.” She huffed out an impatient sigh and came to a stop before a clutch of gentlemen. “Come along,” she said and pushed in.

A blond girl was at the center. A lovely blond girl.

Juliana tapped her on the shoulder. “Amanda, this is Lord Stafford. Lord Stafford—James—meet Lady Amanda Wolverston.”

“Lady Amanda,” he said with a proper bow. He wasn’t tempted to call her just Amanda. Or even think of her as just Amanda. She was Lady Amanda through and through.

But Juliana was just Juliana.

This entire evening was proving most troubling.

“Lord Stafford,” Lady Amanda returned formally. “I’m delighted to meet you.”

She was lovely and delighted. Being a gentleman, he had to do the polite thing. “May I have the honor of the next dance?”

Lady Amanda smiled a lovely smile, though it looked a tad forced. “With pleasure, my lord,” she said, sounding much less pleased than she claimed.

Juliana shot them both a grin.

At least
someone
was happy.

Lady Amanda was a fine dancer. Although not as animated as Juliana, she chatted amiably enough. And she
was
quite lovely. But when the dance ended he wasn’t sorry.

Another gentleman claimed her immediately. James’s mother sidled up to him, out of breath. “What a lovely girl.”

“Quite. Did you enjoy your dance?” he asked, expecting to hear that she hadn’t. That she wasn’t ready to consider getting close to someone new. That she was sorry for pressuring him when he clearly wasn’t ready, either.

“They were delightful,” she said instead.

“They?”

“The dances. All three of them. And all three men. Aurelia and Bedelia thought one dance quite enough, so I danced with their men, too.” She took both his hands in hers. “Thank you, my dear. I’ll admit I thought the very idea was daft, but it’s high time I resumed a social life, and I appreciate your little push.”

He groaned inwardly.

“I’m going to spend the night with Aurelia and Bedelia,” she added, looking happier than he’d seen her in ages. “Good evening, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

At least she was happy, he thought as she walked off. And he’d have an evening at home alone, like he’d hoped.

Now, if only he could unclench his jaw.

“Well, Stafford, you’ve certainly danced with your share of the ladies.”

He turned to see Cainewood. “I’m finished,” he said. But he wasn’t ready to go home yet—suddenly
home alone
sounded lonely. “Can I interest you in a game of chess?”

“Chess? Haven’t touched a board since I left the army.” Cainewood sipped from a nearly empty glass. “Sure. For how much?”

“You want to wager?”

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” Grinning crookedly, he finished his drink. “Ten guineas.”

“Deal.” The stake was high—much more than they’d ever bet in their schooldays—but James returned the grin. “Follow me,” he said, leading his friend toward the card room.

He didn’t expect he’d lose. Cainewood was looking a bit foxed.

“I SAY,
Cainewood. You’re looking a bit foxed.”

Griffin looked up from the chessboard where he and Stafford were playing, to find Castleton standing over them. “I’m quite sober, I assure you,” he told the duke, fascinated to hear a bit of a slur in his own voice. Just a bit, because he was just a bit foxed. Which was perfectly reasonable, since he’d had much to celebrate this evening.

Juliana had finally—
finally
—found a gentleman she wanted.

This gentleman right here.

He took another sip of Regent’s Punch, an inspired mix of six different spirits. “What do you think of my sister, Castleton?”

The duke shrugged. “She’s lively.”

“Yes, isn’t that nice? Nothing like a lively young lady.” Griffin blinked. Castleton looked a bit stiff. And a bit blurred.

He wondered what his sister saw in the fellow.

Castleton was a keen judge of horseflesh—a fine recommendation, to Griffin’s mind—but surely Juliana didn’t care about that. She could sit a mount and enjoyed riding up and down Rotten Row in Hyde Park, the fashionable place to see and be seen, but she’d never been a particularly horsey sort of girl.

Griffin supposed, however, that a lady might find Castleton handsome. In a pale sort of way. And, oh, yes, he was a duke. There was
that
.

Besides, did it matter
why
Juliana wanted him? The fact that she did was good enough for Griffin.

“It’s your turn,” Stafford said.

“So it is.” Griffin focused on the board—or at least he tried to focus. He was losing, but he didn’t care. Life was too good at the moment to worry overmuch about a chess game or a few guineas.

Pondering his strategy, he took another celebratory sip. He’d never tried Regent’s Punch before tonight. It was astonishingly good stuff.

He moved a rook and looked back up at Castleton. “I suppose you’ve come over to ask for permission to call on my sister?”

“Not really. I was just sitting over there playing cards and noticed you looked foxed.”

Castleton sounded disapproving. And quite pompous. Why again did Juliana like him? Oh, yes, he was a duke. And her reason didn’t matter. Griffin wanted his sister to be happy—he wanted all of his sisters to be happy. If Juliana had her heart set on Castleton, he’d do whatever it would take to see them married.

“Did you know,” he said, noticing that slur again in a detached, amused sort of way, “that Velocity is part of Juliana’s dowry?”

The horse wasn’t, of course. Until now.

“You don’t say,” Castleton mused, suddenly looking much more lively himself. “I hadn’t heard that.”

SHREWSBURY CAKES

Beat half a pound of Butter to a fine cream, and put in the same weight of Flour, one Egg, a measure of grated loaf Sugar, and small spoons of Nutmeg and Cinnamon. Mix them into a paste, roll them thin, and cut them with a small glass or little tins, prick them, lay them on sheets of tin, and bake them in a slow oven. Serve spread with raspberry Jam if you wish.

Should you wish to convince someone of something, these cakes will do the trick.
—Helena, Countess of Greystone, 1784

DESPITE HAVING
persuaded her cousins to attend her party, Juliana had no more ladies sewing than last week. Corinna, while present today in the drawing room, was “involved” with her latest painting and refused to pick up a needle. Aunt Frances was at Amanda’s house, visiting with Lady Mabel. And Sunday was the one day of the week Emily’s father made sure to spend time with her.

Luckily, Rachael’s mother had been artistic and had taught her girls to sew. Since Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth were sewing much faster—not to mention better—than last week’s crew, Juliana’s panic subsided. And since Aunt Frances and Emily were missing, she took advantage of their absence to explain Amanda’s situation to her cousins.

After hearing of Amanda’s woes, Rachael sighed. But then her smile made Juliana hopeful she was growing a bit cheerier. “Well, you certainly were last night’s Incomparable, Lady Amanda.” Her needle flew in and out of the miniature coat she was making. “Were you enthralled by any particular gentleman?”

“Lord Stafford,” Juliana answered for Amanda. “He’s absolutely perfect.”

“I’m not certain.” Seated on the drawing room sofa between Juliana and Alexandra, Amanda stitched as slowly and clumsily as ever. Juliana doubted she’d ever progress beyond blankets. Perhaps
this
blanket. “Lord Stafford
is
handsome,” Amanda admitted.

“He’s gorgeous,” Corinna corrected from where she was painting by the picture window.

“Quite,” Juliana agreed, reaching toward the platter of Shrewsbury cakes. She might not personally prefer James’s dark looks, she thought as she spread raspberry jam on one of the sweets, but she couldn’t argue with her sister’s assessment.

“But I’m not struck by love,” Amanda said, her stitches getting shakier.

Fearing her friend might stab herself and bleed, Juliana pulled the needle from her hand and put the cake into it instead. “It might take a while,” she said gently.

“Not everyone marries for love,” Claire pointed out, her unusual amethyst eyes fixed on her expert handiwork.

Elizabeth reached for a spool of white thread. “Your parents didn’t marry for love, did they, Juliana?”

“No, they didn’t. And that was a big mistake.”

“Don’t listen to Juliana,” Corinna told her cousins. “Her head is full of
romantic
notions. Our family was perfectly happy.”

“Not Mama. She loved Father desperately, and he never returned her feelings.” As Juliana had grown older and more aware, she’d found Mama’s unrequited love painful to watch.

“Her children made her happy,” Alexandra put in.

“Yes, but that didn’t erase her hurt. All she wanted was for him to notice her, spend time with her, make her part of his life. But he couldn’t be bothered.”

Juliana wouldn’t let that happen to her. Until she found someone she loved madly—someone she knew loved her madly in return—she meant to remain unwed.

“Mama’s life wasn’t that tragic,” Corinna argued. “Besides, Amanda cannot afford to wait to fall deeply in love.”

Juliana shook her head. “Love is
always
worth waiting for,” she said stubbornly.

“But Amanda’s wedding is quickly approaching,“ Claire said. “Better to take a chance on a suitable young man she
might
come to love, than to face certain doom on the arm of Lord Malmsey.”

Perhaps they were right. Unfortunately, Amanda didn’t have enough time to get to know Lord Stafford well. Juliana squeezed her friend’s hand. “You might have to find someone you like a lot and marry him, then be struck by love later.”

Amanda swallowed her mouthful of cake before speaking. “Grow into love, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Juliana said. “Lord Stafford isn’t just handsome, he’s also young and well-off.”

“What are you looking for in a husband?” Alexandra asked Amanda. “Besides appearance and status, that is. Looks fade, after all. Shared values and interests are much more important.”

“Very true,” Elizabeth said deferentially.

They all deferred to Alexandra on the topic marriage.

Amanda seemed to consider that question for a minute. “I would like a husband who is interested in Roman antiquities.”

Juliana nearly dropped her jam knife in surprise. “Since when are
you
interested in Roman antiquities?”

“Since my father found the ruins on our property. It’s a fascinating subject.”

“Hmm,” Juliana said.

She suspected Amanda’s fascination had begun as a hopeless attempt to please her father, but it might have grown into a real interest. One sometimes had to go to extremes, Juliana knew, to amuse oneself in the countryside.

However, she sincerely doubted James shared her friend’s passion for Roman antiquities. How could he have time to pursue a hobby when he couldn’t even find a few minutes to comb his hair?