Juliana (32 page)

“I adore Vauxhall Gardens,” Aunt Frances gushed. “Especially at night.”

“Only ladies of easy virtue go to Vauxhall Gardens at night,” Amanda said, either not realizing or not caring that she’d just insulted Aunt Frances. “I enjoy gardens, but I’d prefer to visit somewhere more respectable.”

“How about Chelsea Physic Garden, then?” James asked.

“Chelsea Physic Garden?” Juliana had never heard of the place. “Where is it?”

“In Chelsea, I presume,” the duke said dryly.

Juliana shot him a peeved glance before turning back to James. “Is it very exciting?”

“It’s very peaceful. I think Lady Amanda would like it. Only physicians and apothecaries can gain entrance, but I’m allowed to bring guests. And I could have my cook prepare a picnic supper.”

“It sounds perfect,” the duke said. “Shall we say five o’clock? Now I think we should be off.”

JAMES’S AUNTS
had proved to be even better seamstresses than Rachael and her sisters. Better and faster. As Juliana sat stitching like mad while her guests chatted, she tried to convince herself that, with Lady Avonleigh’s and Lady Balmforth’s help, she could successfully finish making all the baby clothes before her deadline a week from Saturday.

At the end of Monday’s party, she’d had a hundred and twenty-one completed pieces and needed only a hundred and nineteen more. Well, perhaps the word
only
was a bit optimistic, especially considering most of the finished pieces were simple blankets and clouts. But it had been the first time the number of items completed exceeded the number of items still unmade, which seemed a milestone of sorts.

Counting today’s sewing party, which was just getting underway, she had six left to go. Which meant if all twelve of her guests were willing to attend every time, she’d need them to finish…

Her head hurt. “Emily, how much is a hundred and nineteen divided by six?”

“Miss Emily isn’t here,” Lady Mabel wheezed.

Oh, that was right. Emily had finished cutting, and she still refused to sew, and she’d been busy lately anyway for some reason or another. Which meant Juliana had eleven ladies—well, twelve if she counted herself—and needed—

“Nineteen and five-sixths,” Elizabeth said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“One hundred nineteen divided by six is nineteen and five-sixths.”

“You did that without paper?”

Elizabeth shrugged.

“My younger daughter was like that,” Lady Avonleigh said. “She could do any calculation in her head.”

“Our mother was good at arithmetic, too,” Rachael said. “I expect Elizabeth inherited that ability from her.”

“Brains do tend to run in families.” Lady Stafford smiled toward Juliana. “Take my James, for instance. He’s just as bright as Aurelia’s daughter, who was his cousin.”

“Much older cousin,” Lady Balmforth pointed out.

“Yes. If she had lived, the poor dear, she’d have been a grandmother by now, I expect—unlike my James, who is currently of marriageable age.” Lady Stafford shot another smile to Juliana. “I was noticing at my dinner party, Lady Juliana, that the Duke of Castleton seems a mite reserved for a young lady of your enthusiasm.”

“Yes, the duke surely is reserved,” Juliana said distractedly, trying to figure out if they could make nineteen and five-sixths items at each party. “But that’s only to be expected, considering his lonely childhood. Did you know he was born in this house? His cruel uncle and aunt sold it and made him move. The thought of it quite breaks my heart.”

Seated beside Juliana, Rachael nudged her and leaned close to her ear. “I think Lady Stafford is hoping you’ll marry her son.”

Juliana wished things were different so she could. In fact, she wished so hard it made her grit her teeth. “Brilliant observation,” she said tightly under her breath, “but much as I like Lady Stafford, her son doesn’t love me. I’m marrying the duke. He’s very nice and he needs me.”

“I should think you’d rather have a husband who
wants
you,” Rachael whispered.

“He does want me. He told me he’s falling in love with me. He sends me roses. He dances with me at every event.”

“From about three feet away.”

It wasn’t the duke’s fault he was physically undemonstrative. He’d never known anything else. That was why he needed her.

Juliana’s stomach hurt. She turned away and raised her voice. “I cannot thank you enough for coming, Lady Avonleigh and Lady Balmforth. You’re both excellent seamstresses.”

“Our mother taught us both to sew,” Lady Balmforth said, “along with Cornelia, of course.”

Lady Avonleigh nodded. “Cornelia and Bedelia didn’t have daughters, but I followed tradition and taught mine to sew. My younger daughter was quite artistic and especially good with a needle.”

Juliana and Rachael turned toward Lady Stafford expectantly. She didn’t disappoint them. “My son is good with a needle, too. He does excellent sutures.”

The cousins shared a smile, but Juliana’s faded. “Do you think that together we can finish nineteen and five-sixths items this afternoon?”

“Twenty,” Elizabeth said. “It’s close enough to call it twenty.”

“Of course. Do you think we can finish twenty? Twelve of us?”

“Of course,” Corinna echoed. “We did twenty-three on Monday, remember? Without Ladies A and B.”

Ladies A and B smiled, their needles flashing.

“Those were all clouts,” Juliana said. “Not frocks, coats, caps, and the like, which are more complicated and take much longer.”

Alexandra rubbed her belly, even though it still looked flat. “We can finish twenty pieces, even if they’re more difficult,” she said soothingly. “We’ll just stay later, until we’re done.”

“We can’t,” Amanda said. “Juliana and your aunt and I are leaving at five to go to Chelsea Physic Garden, and we’ll need time to ready ourselves first.”

“Chelsea Physic Garden?” Claire looked up from the little frock she was sewing. “What’s that?”

“Some garden for doctors,” Juliana said. “James thinks Amanda will like it.”

Rachael tied off a thread. “You call him James?”

“Lord Stafford,” Juliana gritted out, “said Chelsea Physic Garden is very peaceful.”

“My son knows exactly what women enjoy,” Lady Stafford said. “He’s taken me to the garden in Chelsea, and it’s lovely.”

Reaching for a spool, Rachael leaned closer to Juliana. “So tell me about
James
,” she whispered.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Juliana said. “And we must stop whispering. It’s not polite.”

“You’re right,” Rachael said louder as she threaded her needle. “I’ve been wondering,” she said to the company in general, “whether it’s a good idea to marry a gentleman expecting him to change.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Whom are you thinking of marrying?”

“No one in particular. It’s just a hypothetical question.”

“No,” Corinna said flatly. “You cannot change people. If you marry someone expecting to change him, you’ll be disappointed.”

“Not necessarily,” Juliana disagreed. “People change all the time. Look at Amanda.”

Amanda blushed.

“Amanda
wanted
to change,” Corinna argued. “That’s very different from expecting a change in someone who’s happy with himself.”

Claire nodded. “Just think, Juliana. How would you feel if someone married you expecting
you
to change? Or even hoping you would change? Wouldn’t you prefer a husband who likes you just the way you are, without wishing you were different?”

“We’re not talking about me,” Juliana snapped. “It was Rachael asking the question.”

But she knew they
were
talking about her. Or at least they could be. She was planning to marry the duke expecting him to change, and she knew the duke would probably hope she would change, too.

Whereas James liked her just the way she was. But only as a friend—he would never love her. He might like kissing her, but he’d never love her.

And he had to marry Amanda, or else three other people’s lives would be ruined.

Her stomach had never hurt so badly in her life.

AS JAMES WAS
leaving that evening, his mother walked into Stafford House. “How did your day go, dear?”

“Very well.” Pausing in the entrance hall, he shifted the picnic basket he was carrying. “I wasn’t shorthanded today, so I was able to stop by Gillow’s to see the bedroom furniture you and your sisters picked out. It looks fine.”

“Good. I chose the fabrics this morning, and I have a painter coming by later this week. This is all coming together very quickly.”

“Excellent,” he told her. “I truly appreciate your help. Did your sisters enjoy today’s sewing party?”

“Very much. They’re looking forward to another one tomorrow.” She reached up to smooth his hair, making him feel about six years old again. “I was surprised to learn this afternoon that you’re going to the Physic Garden rather than Almack’s.”

He shrugged. “Lady Juliana and Lady Amanda said they’d prefer to visit the garden.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with your lovely young ladies.”

“They’re not my ladies, Mother.” He hoped Juliana was getting closer to becoming his lady—their outing to the Panorama had been encouraging—but she wasn’t his lady yet.

“Are you going to marry one of them?”

He leveled his gaze on her. “Are you going to marry Lord Cavanaugh?”

She blinked. “I’m not prepared to say. At the moment I’m just enjoying his company.”

“Exactly.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Enjoy Almack’s, will you?”

He whistled as he went out the door, whistled as his carriage made its way to Berkeley Square. Things were looking up. He might have just managed to get his mother off his back, and in any case, an hour from now he’d be kissing Juliana.

He stopped whistling out loud when his guests joined him in the carriage, of course, but he was still whistling in his head. And toying with the deck of playing cards he’d slipped into his pocket. It was nearly six o’clock by the time they reached Chelsea and alighted from the carriage on Swan Walk.

“Good evening,” he said to the guard at the garden’s entrance.

“Good evening, Lord Stafford.” The man swung open the gate set into the old redbrick wall. “Sunset is at quarter to nine.”

“The garden closes at sunset,” James told his party. “Is Wheeler here?” he asked the guard.

“Not tonight. He left at four.”

“Oh, that’s a pity,” James said, although it wasn’t a pity at all. In fact, it was exactly what he was hoping to hear.

“Who is Wheeler?” Juliana asked as they walked in.

“Thomas Wheeler is the Physic Garden’s Demonstrator. He explains the uses of the medicinal plants to visitors. I can do that, though.” He led them along a tree-lined path to the center of the garden. “Would you all like a tour, or would you prefer to dine first?”

“I’m famished,” Castleton said. “We can look at plants later.”

James suspected the fellow didn’t want to look at plants at all, which suited his plans just fine. He chose a grassy spot by the rockery and laid out a large blanket before opening the basket his cook had prepared. The duke and Lady Amanda hung back while James opened a bottle of wine and Juliana and her aunt unpacked cold chicken, bread, and cheese.

“I don’t sit on the ground,” Castleton said stuffily, taking his supper to a nearby bench.

What a turd, James thought for the umpteenth time.

Lady Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. “Neither do I,” she said and joined the turd.

“You should sit by her,” Juliana whispered.

“There’s no more room on the bench,” James whispered back. Actually, there
would
have been room on the bench if the two of them weren’t sitting primly spaced apart from each other. But it was just as well, since he didn’t want to sit with Lady Amanda anyway.

“No one else seems to be here,” Lady Frances observed, happily settling close by Lord Malmsey on the blanket. “This place is so peaceful and enchanting.”

Juliana pulled off her gloves as she sat down by them. “Corinna would love to come here and paint.”

“I can obtain a ticket for her entrance,” James said. He took glasses of wine to the turd and his companion, then lowered himself to the blanket by Juliana.