Juliet felt her cheeks redden with anger. It wasn’t as if she had never heard such sentiments expressed before. Indeed, her own mother had at times said similar things, though she had had the decency to keep her thoughts out of hearing of the public. So long as Juliet kept the true nature of her unfortunate injury secret, Lady Shelby had agreed that her daughter might attend as many society events as she wished. But to hear Amelia Snowe, who had fooled the gentlemen of the ton into believing her to be a sweet and nurturing angel, express such sentiments was infuriating.
“I daresay,” Felicia responded, “they are hoping to marry her off to some aged lord who has already sired an heir. The idea of anyone else wishing to marry such an antidote is laughable. What man would possibly wish for the mother of his children to drag herself around with a walking stick?”
As she listened to the two girls share their mirth at her expense, Juliet vowed to “accidentally” trip Amelia at the first opportunity.
“You don’t suppose they’ve already chosen someone, do you?” Amelia asked, once her giggles had subsided. “Because I would dearly love to be present at that wedding! How does one stumble down the aisle, do you think?”
“At least we would not be forced to see her dance at her own wedding! Imagine what a spectacle that would be! Carroty hair mixed with a halting gait. She will be as amusing as a performer at the circus.” This came from Lady Felicia.
The laughing fit brought on by that bit of mean-spiritedness was interrupted by a cough. A gentleman’s cough.
“Miss Snowe, Lady Felicia,” she heard a deep voice say. “How is it that you are not on the dance floor?”
Juliet could all but hear Amelia’s simpering smile slide back into place.
“Your lordship,” she cooed, “what a delightful entertainment you’ve hosted this evening. Felicia and I were just taking a bit of a rest in between sets.”
“I thank you for the compliment,” Viscount Deveril said smoothly, though was that a hint of annoyance Juliet heard in his voice? “I must ask you to return to the festivities,” he continued, his voice definitely cool. “This room is for family use only.”
And you two are not family, his voice implied. Juliet bit back a cheer.
“We will leave at once,” Amelia said her voice thick with apology. Of course she would not wish to insult an eligible like Deveril, Juliet thought cynically.
“We apologize for the intrusion, my lord,” Felicia cooed.
Juliet bit her lip to keep from laughing at the insincerity.
“There is no harm done, ladies,” Deveril assured them with more generosity than they deserved. “And I pray you,” he added, “try not to stumble down the hall. One would hate to see the two of you make a spectacle of yourselves. This isn’t the circus, you know.”
Behind the screen, Julie’s mouth fell open in astonishment. Had the Viscount Deveril, leader of the fashionable set, just delivered a set down on her behalf? It was not to be believed!
In the room at large, an awkward silence fell, no doubt while Amelia tried to come up with a suitable response. Apparently she was unable to do so, because Juliet soon heard both ladies thank his lordship again for the warning and hurry away in a rustle of silk skirts and the firm click of the closing door.
Waiting a few minutes more to ensure the room really was empty, Juliet was making to rise from her seat behind the screen when she heard the viscount’s now familiar voice.
“You may come out now, Miss Shelby. Your detractors have gone back to the ballroom.”
Juliet dropped her head into her hands in frustration.
He had known she was there the whole time.
Damn. And double damn.
Schooling her features, she rose awkwardly from her seat and stepped out from behind the screen.
* * *
When he’d overheard Miss Snowe and Lady Felicia mocking the ducklings, Alec had been surprised by the jolt of anger he felt on their behalf. Especially when Amelia made her degrading remarks about Miss Shelby. There was no other young lady of the ton who had both red hair and a limp. That her hair was a rich auburn, rather than the hue of carrots as the two spiteful ladies had implied, was, he supposed, beside the point.
“Come now, Miss Shelby, you are not going to ignore me, are you?”
Alec stepped farther into the room, and feeling the chill in the air, crouched before the fireplace to stoke it a bit. And to give his companion another moment to emerge from her hiding place. He was rewarded after a minute or so with the sound of a gown rustling and an uneven gait sliding along the thick Aubusson carpet.
“Here I am, my lord,” she said from behind him. “I had best leave now. I too am sorry for intruding in the family rooms.”
Alec rose easily from his crouching position before the fire. It was clear from her expression that Miss Shelby wished to be quit of his company. And he could hardly blame her. But, coming upon her here had given him an idea.
“I’m afraid that was a bit of a fib I told Lady Felicia and Miss Snowe in order to hasten their departure. This is one of the family rooms but you are more than welcome to stay.”
He watched a series of mixed emotions flicker over her face. Chief among them confusion. As her green eyes narrowed he realized that she was really quite pretty when one stopped to actually see her. He supposed he was as guilty as anyone of defining her by her injured leg.
“Indeed?” she asked, regaining her composure. “I thank you for the compliment, but I will leave as well. I feel sure my cousins will have missed me by now.”
As she turned to go, walking stick in hand, Alec reached out a hand to stay her. But the touch must have startled her, for she gasped and the sheet of foolscap she clutched floated to the floor.
“My apologies,” he said, releasing her immediately, then bent to retrieve the paper for her. “I only meant to request you to stay for a moment and talk with me. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”
He handed the note to her, and saw wariness in her green eyes as their gloved hands brushed.
“What do you want of me?” she asked, distrust oozing from every pore as she tucked the note into the reticule hanging from her wrist.
What was this? Alec wondered. She suddenly behaved as if he were some kind of lecher.
“I mean you no harm, Miss Shelby,” he assured her. “Truly.” She must have found something trustworthy in his disclaimer, for she nodded once and allowed him to direct her to a chair near the enormous harp his sister Lydia played from time to time.
“What was that about?” he asked before he thought better of it. He knew it was smart for a young lady to look out for herself, but there had been something else there in her eyes when she’d watched him.
A faint blush suffused Juliet’s cheeks, and Alec was struck by her prettiness. Her features were sharp, with a pointed chin and a narrow nose, and a creamy smooth complexion, but it was her expressive green eyes that made her so attractive.
“My apologies, my lord,” she said. “I’m afraid I was overset and I took out my pique on you.”
“Bad news?” he asked, his gaze dropping to her reticule.
“Indeed,” she said. “I … that is, my friend has been called away on personal business.” Her eyes clouded. “I would not be so worried, but she has, in the past, been stricken with melancholy to such a degree that…”
“You fear she might harm herself,” Alec said, understanding at once why she would be upset. He knew from personal experience what melancholy might make a woman do.
“Yes,” Juliet said, her expression relaxing at his words. “My friend—I dare not say her name, because she has told me of her struggles in confidence—says that she is going to visit family in the north, but I was given to believe that she had no family. So I am worried that her tale might be just that. A tale to stop me from worrying.”
Alec took this in. While he did not discount Juliet’s assessment of the situation, he also knew the degree to which friends and family of those
who suffered from melancholia tended to see every expression of sadness as a sign of impending relapse.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. “Perhaps I could have someone check into her whereabouts?”
She gave a sad smile. “I thank you for your kind offer, my lord,” she said, “but I feel sure that my friend would see such an act as a violation of her privacy.”
Alec gave a nod. He’d suspected as much, but seeing this young woman who clearly had her own struggles to endure had prompted him to make the offer. He mentally cursed Amelia and Lady Felicia for causing her even more distress.
* * *
“But you wished to speak to me of something else?” his companion prompted. “I can hardly think what it might be, given the chasm that gapes between us.”
Her words stung. Perhaps because there was some truth to them. Still he could not fail to ask, “Because it is so unthinkable for ‘someone like me’ to wish to speak with ‘someone like you’?”
“Well, you must admit that you are considerably more socially successful than I am,” she defended herself. “Only consider how Miss Snowe and Lady Felicia mocked me. And they are hardly the only members of the ton who say such things.”
“Speaking of those two,” Alec said, “whatever have you and your cousins done to incur the wrath of Miss Snowe?”
Juliet stiffened. “I hardly think that we are to blame for Miss Snowe’s incivility,” she said with a frown. “However,” she conceded, “I believe she is currently annoyed with Cecily for stealing the Duke of Winterson from her. Of course, she does not account for the fact that Winterson had no intention of marrying her in the first place, but then Miss Snowe is not known for her ability to perform logical deductions.”
“I do apologize,” Alec said quickly, “I did not mean to imply that you brought on her enmity.” His brows furrowed. “But she did seem particularly harsh about you, I think. Did you perhaps steal one of her beaux as well?”
He meant the last line to be teasing, but Miss Shelby’s laugh was mirthless. “Hardly, my lord.
“I believe,” she went on, “that Miss Snowe singles out my cousins and me because she failed to bring my elder brother up to scratch several years ago in Bath. When Matthew chose to marry someone else, Miss Snowe decided to take out her disappointment on us.”
“Three years is a long time to nurse a grudge,” Alec said, leaning his shoulders against the Adam fireplace.
“Well, I daresay if she had managed to marry someone else in the interim—Winterson, perhaps—she might have given up,” Juliet said. “But since she has as yet been unsuccessful on the marriage mart, she still has anger enough to fuel her spite.”
“It must be unpleasant for you.” Which was an understatement, he knew.
“In truth, it does not bother me,” Juliet assured him. “I am accustomed to being singled out. I dislike it when she vents her spleen on my cousins, however. They are not as skilled at deflecting such venom as I am.”
“That being the case, however,” he said, “I dislike hearing her mock your…”
Juliet looked up, one dark red brow raised in good humor. “My injury, shall we call it?”
At his mute nod, she went on. “I wish you would not let it concern you, my lord. I have been subjected to worse.” She smiled wryly. “And at least in one respect, Amelia is perfectly correct. I cannot dance.”
* * *
What the devil was she doing enclosed in an antechamber conversing with Lord Deveril of all people? Juliet wondered.
She’d been pleased to have him rout Miss Snowe and her henchwoman Lady Felicia, but now she needed to make her escape before someone saw them together. But to her dismay, her host showed no signs of allowing her to leave.
“Have you ever tried to dance, Miss Shelby?” he asked, his angelic countenance contorted into a frown. For a moment, Juliet imagined him as an avenging angel rushing to her defense. It was a heady thought.
“Though I imagine her situation is quite different from yours,” Deveril continued, “I know that my great-aunt Augusta, who suffers from a similar problem, found that while she cannot walk without a limp, she was rather good at dancing. Something to do with having a compensatory sense of balance.”
Though she knew he meant well, Juliet rather doubted that Lord Deveril’s Great-aunt Augusta’s ailment was quite as severe as her own. Still, it was kind of him to suggest it.
“I have not tried to dance, my lord,” she said, “but I can assure you that there is little chance of my being able to do so. I’m afraid my—”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Shelby,” he interrupted, “but if you haven’t tried, then how can you possibly know?”
His audacity surprised her. For as long as she’d known him, or more accurately known of him, Lord Alec Deveril had been held up as a pillar of good breeding and elegant manners. He was hardly the sort of man one would expect to interrupt a lady. Still, his question gave her pause.
How could she know without having tried? She thought of the dance card that her cousin Cecily had given to her a week ago.
Earlier that season, when Amelia Snowe had left her reusable ivory and filigree dance card in the ladies’ retiring room at the Bewle ball, Cecily, then Miss Hurston, had snatched it up in hopes of using it herself. After all, it had been signed by the most eligible gentlemen of the ton and Amelia had just proven herself once more to be the most unpleasant and hateful young lady of the cousins’ acquaintance. But now that Cecily was happily married, she had passed it on, as a sort of good luck token, to Juliet. She was not bold enough to trick the gentlemen into thinking they had signed up for dancing with her rather than Amelia, as Cecily had done, but she would like to put the dance card to use on her own. Perhaps have the gentlemen of the beau monde scrawl their names on the ivory slats of the dance card in hopes of taking a turn about the room with her for a change.
But since it had come into her possession, Juliet had been wondering just how she could make that happen. It was perfectly acceptable for young ladies who were unable to dance to sit out the set with a gentleman. But what if Lord Deveril was right? What if she could actually dance? The very idea was revolutionary. It could change everything.
“I suppose you are right,” she conceded at last. “I cannot know, never having tried. But I would hardly wish to try it in a ballroom full of spectators. If my mama was worried that my playing the pianoforte would create a spectacle, she would have an apoplectic fit if she knew I was considering dancing.”
“Which,” his lordship said with a grin, “is why you should have a select group of people teach you. Perhaps just your cousins and a few other ladies and gentlemen.”
He looked so pleased with himself that Juliet nearly laughed aloud. “And I suppose you would wish to be a member of the party?” she asked.
“Well, it was my idea,” he said guilelessly.
Juliet found herself smiling. “I have no doubt that Cecily will be happy to host such a party at Winterson House.”
“What sort of hostess duties are you committing me to, Juliet?” the Duchess of Winterson demanded from the doorway. “And what on earth are you doing closeted with Lord Deveril? I know you have no care for your reputation, but if your mama were to know she’d have the two of you married before morning.”
Apparently unfazed by the duchess’s warning, Lord Deveril merely grinned, and bowed to her cousin. “I shall leave you to explain your plan to the duchess, Miss Shelby. I enjoyed our conversation very much.”
When he had gone, Cecily looked speculatively at her cousin.
“Yes, Juliet, explain your plan to your cousin,” she said. “And please include the part that involves the gorgeous man who just left the room.”
Cursing the blush she felt rising on her fair skin, Juliet did just that.
Two
Three nights later, Juliet stood nervously as Cecily and Winterson demonstrated the movements of the polonaise, their hands clasped as they stepped and spun. Since Winter
son still felt the effects of a war injury to his leg, it was useful for Juliet to see how the steps of the dance might be modified to accommodate him.
“You can see, Juliet,” Cecily said, suiting her actions to her words, “that you take a sliding step, like this, and then bend the knee every third step.”
“You have to follow the steps of the lead couple, of course,” Winterson said, turning with Cecily’s left hand in his right and her right in his left. “It’s more of a promenade than anything else.”
“I’ve attended my share of balls,” Juliet reminded them, “I believe I know the steps. It’s just a matter of performing them.”
“Then let’s get started,” Cecily said with a firm nod. She gestured to Lydia, Deveril’s sister, who was their accompanist for the evening. “Everyone take your partners.”
At her words, Juliet felt her heart pound. It was the moment of reckoning and she suddenly wished that she hadn’t been so firm in her assertion that all she wanted was practice to learn the steps. What if she failed miserably? What if she fell? What if she …
“Shall we, Miss Shelby?” Lord Deveril said, stepping out from behind her as the rest of the couples formed and went to stand in promenade position. “I promise not to lead you astray.”
She’d, of course, fretted over who would be burdened with partnering her, but in her imaginings she had never dreamed that Deveril would be the one. She rather thought that Monteith would be the one. She felt none of the unease with him that she felt with Deveril. Whereas Monteith made her laugh, Deveril made her nervous.
“Well, Miss Shelby?” he repeated. “Shall we?”
And without waiting for her to agree to it, he simply took her hand in his and led her to stand up beside the other couples. Other couples who had stood waiting, watching while she dithered.
“Deep breath,” Deveril said, squeezing her hand. “We are your friends, so there’s no need to be nervous. Besides, if you are nervous, then I am nervous. And you do not wish to see me when I’m nervous.”
How to Romance a Rake Page 2