Juliana (21 page)

She took Amanda’s arm and marched her to where James was talking to his mother. “Lady Amanda would love to waltz,” she said.

When he didn’t move, Lady Stafford nudged him. “Go on, James. We can finish this discussion at home.”

“Very well,” he said stiffly, offering Amanda his arm. “Shall we dance again?”

As the young couple walked off, Lady Stafford gave a happy sigh and smiled at Juliana, looking as though she had something to say to her. Something nice. But just then, Lord Cavanaugh came up and smartly bowed before the older woman.

“Shall we dance again?” he asked.

Shooting Juliana an even wider smile over her shoulder, Lady Stafford went off with him.

Juliana looked around and spotted the duke exiting the card room. Aiming her best, perfected smile at him, she went up and tapped him on the arm. “Shall we dance again?”

The line had worked perfectly for everyone else, but the duke just looked startled. Juliana supposed it wasn’t proper for a lady to do the asking, but she was dying to see how well the macaroons had worked, so she started toward the dance floor, knowing he would follow.

And he did follow, of course. But when they started to waltz, his arms were rigid, and he held her just as far away as ever.

“Who is that dancing with Stafford?” he asked. “Do you know her?”

“That’s Lady Amanda Wolverston, and I know her very well. We grew up together as neighbors.”

“I’ve never noticed her before.”

Well, of course he hadn’t. No one had noticed Amanda before Juliana took her in hand. “What did you think of Lord Stafford’s controversial speech?”

“To which speech do you refer?”

“Yesterday’s. In Parliament. Concerning smallpox vaccinations.”

“How would you come to know of that?” he asked, but apparently the question was rhetorical, because he didn’t wait for an answer. “I was at my club yesterday,” he told her. “Playing cards.”

She wondered why she found that irksome. After all, she wanted a husband who had plenty of time for her, and clearly he put pleasure before more serious pursuits. “Did you win?”

“Does it matter? It was an amusing way to pass the hours.” He smiled down on her indulgently. “I can afford to lose, I assure you. I have plenty of money to both gamble and buy flowers for a special lady.”

She was glad he thought she was special, but if he had extra funds, perhaps they’d be better spent on something more meaningful. A worthy cause. The Foundling Hospital, perhaps, or smallpox vaccinations.

Once she knew him better, she’d make the suggestion. She wished he would loosen up so she could
get
to know him better. “Did you eat any more of my macaroons?” she asked, concluding he hadn’t.

“All of them,” he said, surprising her. “They tasted so wonderful, and I couldn’t find anywhere to put them to save them for later.”

That was as she’d expected. But why weren’t they working? “I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

“They were truly very good.”

Apparently they weren’t good enough. They didn’t seem to be making him amorous at all. She moved a little bit closer, but he braced his arms until they were once more at a proper distance.

Lord Cavanaugh, she noticed, wasn’t dancing nearly so properly with Lady Stafford. The two of them looked rather cozy. And Aunt Frances and Lord Malmsey were so close they were all but tromping on each other’s toes. Amanda, however, was dancing at a proper distance from James.

She should have left James more macaroons, considering two had worn off too quickly and even seven hadn’t affected the duke. What could make one so resistant to warmth and affection? She imagined the late duke might have acted distantly toward his son, knowing the boy was actually fathered by another. But a loving mother should have made up for that.

“Was your mother very affectionate?” she asked.

“Affectionate?” He looked taken aback by the mere question. “I wouldn’t know. I never knew either of my parents.”

Oh, how tragic! “Why was that?”

“They died when I was six months old. Drowned in a storm while crossing the Channel.”

“I’m so sorry.” Juliana had lost her parents at fourteen—she could hardly imagine growing up without parents altogether. Even motherless Emily and Amanda had fathers in their lives. “Who raised you, then?”

His handsome mouth compressed into a thin line. “My uncle and aunt—my father’s brother and his wife. Did you know I was born in your house? The first thing they did as my guardians was sell that house to your father and then buy my current, more splendid house in Grosvenor Square. I was well satisfied to turn them out of it when I gained my majority.”

She was happy to hear he had a splendid house, but she wondered at the bitterness in his tone. “Were they not nice to you?”

“Nice?” He laughed, but it was a laugh devoid of humor. “If I hadn’t been born half a year before my parents died, my uncle and aunt would have been the duke and duchess. They never forgave me for robbing them of that.”

He didn’t offer any details, but Juliana could imagine them for herself. His uncle and aunt had been cold, cruel, and resentful. He’d received no hugs growing up, no physical affection.

No wonder he wasn’t affectionate himself. No one had ever shown him how. “I’m so sorry you had a sad childhood,” she told him.

“You’re so caring, my dear,” he said, giving her a fond smile.

She understood perfectly. No one had cared for him throughout his childhood, which was why he had a hard time getting close to others now. Like all people, he’d learned by example, and he needed a new example to learn by.

Human touch could go a long way. Once he learned to be more affectionate, he would also be more charitable. The poor man needed someone in his life to gently guide him, to help his softer side come to the fore.

He needed
her
. With her in his life, demonstrating warmth and generosity—

The dance came to an end. Before she could finish formulating her plan, he bowed formally and thanked her.

No sooner had he walked away than Lady Stafford walked up. “I must thank you for introducing me to Lord Cavanaugh.”

“I thought you already knew him.”

“Reintroducing me, then.” She smiled, her kindly eyes reminding Juliana of her own mother. “I’m giving a little dinner party tomorrow evening at Stafford House, and Lord Cavanaugh has agreed to attend. My son will be there, too. Might I have the pleasure of your company as well?”

“I’d be delighted to attend.” She liked Lady Stafford. The woman was very motherly, and Juliana missed her mother rather a lot. Plus the dinner would give her a chance to ask James how his courtship of Amanda was proceeding and remind him to invite her to visit the Egyptian Hall. Once Amanda discovered their shared interest in Roman antiquities, she might be struck by love quickly after all.

“I’m also going to ask the young lady with whom my son has been dancing.” Lady Stafford’s gaze slid to Amanda and back. “Shall I invite the Duke of Castleton to round out our party?”

“That would be lovely,” Juliana said, mentally reshuffling her objectives for the evening.

That would be perfect, in fact. The duke never called on Sundays, so the dinner would give her an unexpected opportunity to begin helping him right away. She’d be able to direct the conversation to James’s humanitarian work and show the duke the importance of charity. Perhaps she could even persuade him to contribute!

She hoped the duke would come to like James, and vice versa. Her fondest wish was that she and the duke would become fast friends with James and Amanda and have more dinner parties after both couples were married. That would be an ideal situation, because she’d come to enjoy James’s company in the time they’d spent together.

“Eight o’clock, then?” the older woman asked. “Lady Amanda lives on your street, doesn’t she? On the west side of Berkeley Square? I’ll have the Stafford carriage sent round for you both.”

APPLE AND ORANGE TART

Peel two Oranges and make into pieces, then peel some Apples into thin slices. Put in a bowle with a smidgen of Flour, a cup of Sugar, some Cinnamon and Ginger. Put into your paste with pieces of Butter all over. Cover with more paste and some Sugar and bake in your oven until browne.

Excellent to bring to a party with friends. As the apples and oranges in this tart go together, so do the people who eat it.
—Eleanor, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1735

“ISN’T THIS A
stunning carriage?” Juliana asked as she and Amanda neared Stafford House.

“Lord Stafford is an earl.” Amanda absentmindedly ran a hand over the deep green velvet upholstery. “I’d expect him to have a nice carriage.”

The well-sprung vehicle rocked, making Juliana tighten her grip on the tart she’d baked that afternoon. Was there nothing about James that would impress her friend? “He likes chess,” she reminded her, and then, even though she’d meant to let Amanda discover they had more in common at the Egyptian Hall, she added, “And you might want to ask him if he’s interested in Roman antiq—”

She cut off mid-word as the carriage came to a stop and the door opened, revealing a footman dressed in crimson livery trimmed in gold. “Welcome to Stafford House,” he said, offering a gloved hand to help them down.

“Gracious me,” Amanda breathed, her eyes widening as she stepped out and stood before the mansion. “I’ve noticed this house from Green Park, but I had no idea it belonged to Lord Stafford.” It was three stories tall, the facade clad in brilliant white Portland stone. “Would you look at those statues on top of that Roman Doric portico? Bacchus, Flora, and Ceres.”

Juliana hadn’t a clue who Bacchus, Flora, and Ceres were, but she smiled all the same. “Lord Stafford can name ancient gods and goddesses, just like you.”

A butler ushered them inside an impressive entrance hall with curved walls, a pale marble floor, and an arched window looking out on a resplendent central courtyard garden.

“Gracious me,” Amanda repeated, staring up at a strip of decorations that ran around the room below the carved oval ceiling. “That frieze looks like the one in the Temple of Jupiter.” Slowly, reverently, she walked toward a large marble bust that sat on a pedestal before the window. “This is amazing.” She reached a hand as though to touch it, then stopped herself. “It must be priceless.”

“He doesn’t look like a god,” Juliana said.

“He isn’t. That’s Emperor Lucius Verus, the adopted brother of Marcus Aurelius who ruled with him.”

Juliana examined the haughty, bearded fellow. “He’s very handsome.”

“He was said to be weak and indulgent. I understand that his death was rather a relief to the Empire.”

“How do you know such things?” Juliana asked.

“From books, of course. My father’s library has grown by leaps and bounds since he discovered the ruins on the property. Do you not read, too?”

“Most certainly.” She glanced through the newspapers, because she liked to know what was happening elsewhere. Magazines by the dozen. Poetry and the latest novels discussed in polite company. And those discussed in whispers, such as the Minerva Press romance currently hidden beneath her pillow. But Roman history and mythology?

She’d had no idea that Amanda had grown so bookish.

After collecting their pelisses and umbrellas, the butler led them through a staircase hall. Or at least he
tried
to lead them through a staircase hall. Amanda stopped in her tracks, staring at a statue that was larger-than-life.

“It’s a centaur,” she said.

“Even I know that. My education isn’t
totally
lacking.” Juliana was rather fascinated by all the ridges on the creature’s bare, toned chest. But Amanda had already moved on, kneeling down by a large fragment of carved stone that sat beneath an inlaid wooden side table.

“Part of a sarcophagus, I’d guess.” She ran her fingers across the piece. “First century.”

“How do you know?” Juliana wondered.

Amanda just shrugged as she rose, gesturing to two more carved stone pieces on either side of the table. “Funerary altars. Also first century. The flat surface was used for sacrificial ceremonies.” She sighed expansively. “This house is just
full
of treasures.”

The butler continued on, leading them down a corridor lined with gilt-framed paintings of Stafford ancestors, then turning into the most gorgeous room Juliana had ever seen. Between arched walls painted a soft pistachio green, gilded columns looked like golden palm trees, their fronds projecting high overhead. In the back of the room, a large alcove was crowned with a domed ceiling, divided into small gilt-edged squares alternately tinted green and pink.

Dressed in a burgundy gown with pink trim, Lady Stafford rose from where she faced Lord Cavanaugh across a chessboard and greeted them with a smile. “Good evening. I’m so pleased you could both come.” She moved to take the dish Juliana was holding out. “What is this, my dear?”

“An apple and orange tart. The recipe was my great-grandmother’s.”

She lifted the lace doily that covered it. “Oh, my. It smells delicious.”

“It’s supposed to promote friendship,” Amanda informed her, gazing down at the chess set.