"Anyway, in effort to avoid that spectacle in the future, I endeavored to cease cursing, but I found it a harder habit to break than anticipated, especially when provoked by my brothers. Remembering how fond my mother is of saying gentlemen are fond of hearing ladies speak a foreign language, I made the decision to swear in that fashion. So whenever a curse flies unheeded from my lips in my mother's presence, she has decided that I am just practicing my languages to impress a future husband. Whether she truly believes this or not, I am unsure. It's perverse and vulgar, I grant you, but it has appeased both our natures rather well."
"Exactly how many languages do you speak?" he asked, still chuckling.
"I speak four languages, but can read and write only three of those." His eyebrows shot up at her admission. "Do not be impressed, Your Grace, nor convinced you are conversing with a bluestocking. My motives for learning were quite selfish and not at all academic, and I am far from a linguist. I love music, from étude to opera, and simply wanted to know exactly what the composers had written rather than hearing a mere translation into English. I was fortunate my governess had a gift for languages, which worked to my everlasting benefit. We found familiar books in foreign translations at Hatchards, which made it easier for me to pick up the new language. Miranda even learned to speak Italian on a lark so she would not be bored when forced to accompany me to Covent Garden.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “And I also found I needed to expand my repertoire of curses," she ended saucily. She did not mention that several of the ladies in her circle, specifically Lady Temperance and Miss Gates, could also read and write in foreign tongues. It would not do to betray her friends' educational tendencies either.
He watched Juliet with a look she could not decipher, but for some reason made her flush and feel a warmth diffuse over her. "I find myself equally appalled and impressed. I am appalled that I can speak only French, and have been informed my accent is atrocious. I am impressed that you have so many talents and yet still seek to lift others before yourself. Most ladies would go out of their way to flaunt their accomplishments."
"Yes, but most ladies can flaunt themselves because they have worthwhile accomplishments. Mine are of a more dubious, indelicate nature. To be sure, I am a most fearsome lady of proper demeanor and etiquette; I am my mother's daughter, after all. Yet I also like to think I could fight a duel quite admirably.” She raised her hand in an affectation of firing a pistol. “The former is much admired in a female; the latter is absurd."
"I think you take some delight in shocking others, Lady Juliet. You make no excuses for your predilections, which is fine. I think you attempt to stun others into silence so you do not have to hear exactly how another truly feels about certain less ladylike qualities you possess."
Juliet quietly regarded the Duke, processing his characterization seriously. Did she highlight her differences in attempt to blunt their negative impact? Did she seek to be different just for the shock value? Perhaps she had emulated her brothers' masculine behavior too closely.
"I have never thought in this manner before. I find myself intrigued by your intimation that I may actually be quite vain, flaunting myself with my eccentricities. How utterly shameful."
A look of alarm passed over his features as he feared he may have gone too far in his assessment. She seemed to be aghast that her efforts to highlight her inappropriateness actually just highlighted herself alone. "Let me also add that you are quite delightful exactly as you are. You are unique, and that will always stand out from the familiar, and not always in a negative manner."
"I think you have managed to dress me down and compliment me simultaneously. I will take both with grace and aplomb, and say 'thank you.' You have given me much on which to think." She straightened in her seat as Miranda entered the room with a look of unease across her face. Juliet threw the Duke a mischievous look with a sparkle in her eye. "Zut!" she murmured. She begged he excuse her as she stood and moved from the chaise to attend her friend, his rich laughter following her across the room.
Chapter Fourteen
If music be the food of love, then play on.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 1
Juliet clasped hands with Miranda, immediately sensing her friend's unease. They walked over to a window seat removed far enough away from the ears of the assembled guests.
Calma. Nessuno nota la vostra assenza.
Calm down. No one noticed your absence.
Sei sicuro? Ho tanta paura vorrei essere catturato.
Are you sure? I was so afraid I would be caught.
The two friends fell into speaking Italian to thwart possible eavesdroppers. They had developed the habit soon after learning they could keep scores of secrets when they spoke a language their brothers could not understand. French was too commonplace and Latin too dreary to remember. Juliet never realized her love of Italian opera would lead them to hijack the language for any clandestine purposes.
Ho promesso. Nessuno se ne fosse accorto che erano spariti.
I promise. No one noticed you were gone.
Mi sento come tutti a guardare a me.
I feel like everyone is staring at me.
Miranda's voice shook as she spoke and she glanced around nervously, her breath coming in short pants. Juliet softly rubbed her friend's hands in a gesture of comfort but her words were serious with warning.
Si considerano colpevoli. Fate un respiro profondo e uscire arrossito!
You look guilty. Take a deep breath and quit blushing!
Juliet hissed her last statement in quiet command.
Sto cercando. Mi piace essere nudo.
I'm trying. I hate being naked.
Juliet's eyes deepened to the color of slate and widened as she choked on a sudden laugh. Miranda's gaze flew to hers and she knew she had misspoken and mistranslated.
Credo che lei intende nervoso, non nudi. Ti piace essere nervoso.
I think you meant nervous, not naked. You hate being nervous.
Miranda laughed now but it was high-pitched and somewhat brittle, and succeeded in bringing several stares around to her. Miranda's grip tightened painfully on Juliet's hands.
Per mettere l'attenzione su di me. Mi chiedono di suonare il pianoforte.
So put the attention on me. Ask me to play the piano.
The last thing Juliet wished to do was call attention to herself, but Miranda was growing paler and more nervous with each passing moment.
Ma tu hai in odio a suonare il pianoforte di fronte a persone.
But you hate to play the pianoforte in front of people.
Sì, ma io sono un buon amico. Ora sbrigati prima A cambiare la mia mente. O di rompere le mie dita stringendo loro troppo stretto.
Yes, I do, but I am a good friend. Now hurry before I change my mind. Or you break my fingers by squeezing them too tightly.
Juliet sent Miranda a pointed look followed by a quick grimace before smoothing her features to calm her friend. Miranda immediately released her hands with an apologetic face. She cleared her throat and stood to draw the attention of the party guests. "I think we need some music to enliven our party. Juliet, please say you will play for us." She turned her wide eyes on her friend, still unsure if Juliet could summon the courage to play for a crowd.
Juliet looked down at her hands and took a calming breath. "I am sure you could find someone else to play." She spared a look at Miranda and gathered courage when she saw her friend's frightened face.
"Jules, you have more talent in your fingers than most in their entire bodies. Please, favor us with a song. Pick whatever you like best." To her ears, Miranda's request sounded like desperate begging, which only strengthened Juliet's resolve to aid her friend. She stood and smoothed out her skirt, wiping her damp palms on the fabric as she went.
"Very well, but only one song, and then another must play.” She moved silently to the pianoforte and settled herself on the bench. “I fear my tastes are quite boring to most, so I apologize in advanc
e if I cause everyone to feel drowsy after that fine meal we just enjoyed." Adjusting the bench to fit her frame, she mentally scrambled to select something she knew by heart. She elected to play a beloved and familiar piece to her, Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 9.
Juliet rested her hands on the keys then began to play the notes quickly and cheerfully, as they were written to be played. Trying to overcome her feelings of awkwardness at playing publicly, she slowly smoothed her style and evened her fingering. As she progressed into the second movement, she relaxed and let familiarity take over, closing her eyes, the cadence of the music markedly slower than the first section. The key moved from major to minor in a perfect pattern of dissonance then harmony.
By the beginning of the third and final movement, Juliet was unaware of her surroundings, completely lost in the emotions of the note combinations. She played with energy the technically demanding section, her fingers flying over the keys with surety and skill. Her body swayed slightly, moving subtly with fluidity to the music. A dramatic and fast chromatic scale concluded the end of the sonata, and Juliet rested her hands in her lap after playing the final note. She slowly raised her head and opened her eyes, aware again of the fact she was playing for a large group which was unused to her performance.
Clapping immediately erupted and she felt herself blushing. She stood and nodded her thanks but was prevented from moving from the pianoforte by the arrival of Viscount Melville and Mr. Burke. The Viscount raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles sloppily as she inclined her head in appreciation of his notice.
"That was truly remarkable, Lady Juliet. You have an incomparable talent for the pianoforte."
She blushed under his extolling and demurred. "Thank you, my lord, but I have no more talent than most can claim for this instrument."
"You are too modest, my lady! I have heard many play and I feel I must agree with Melville. Please, continue to play for us. I will turn pages for you, if I may." Mr. Burke moved closer to the instrument before realizing she had no sheets for him to turn. "I say, you played all that without music? Famous!"
Juliet blushed further and took another step away from the instrument. "I did, sir, but only because I have played that piece for so many years. It is one of my favorites, so I benefit less from talent than from repetition." The Viscount stepped easily into her path to block her escape.
"Repetition only increased the talent you already possess, more likely. I must insist, as I know everyone wishes me to, that you continue to play for us, Lady Juliet. I for one have not heard Beethoven played with such ability or beauty. Please play again." He grabbed her hand and again pressed a kiss there, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary, in her opinion. He moved to usher her back to the bench as she dropped her head to hide her distaste and embarrassment.
"I really dislike playing for crowds and prefer to inflict my music only on my family. Please allow me to thank you for your compliments, but I must insist someone else play now." She politely but firmly pulled her hand from his grasp and sidestepped her way back to the window seat and Miranda. They surreptitiously grabbed hands between the folds of their skirts in strengthening reassurance of each other. Miranda cast a pleading glance at her mother, who immediately stood and took control of the party.
"As I am sure none of the rest of us want to try to follow that performance, which was Mozart, by the by," she said with a smile at the Viscount, "I suggest we group up to play some cards." She nodded at several footmen and immediately four tables with chairs were arranged, with cards supplied for whist and Vingt-et-un. "Grab a partner!" she called out cheerily.
"That odious Melville. I'm not sure how he managed an invitation to this party. I thought my brother thoroughly vetted his guest list for suitable marriage partners. As if I would ever entertain a suit from that bounder," Miranda whispered to Juliet. "Even if you discount the rumors of his debauchery at the bawdy houses, it is common knowledge that he is slowly gambling his fortune away at the tables and track. He may be heir to an earldom, but what will be left to inherit? And to confuse Beethoven with Mozart!" she gave an unladylike snort and rolled her eyes.
Juliet smothered a laugh. "Many people are guilty of confusing composers of music when they play no instrument themselves."
"Yes, but they rarely open their mouths to give voice to their ignorance. His shallow flattery was meant to inflate himself, not commend you."
"I realize that, and agree that the Viscount is a profligate. You might ask your brother how his name came to be on the guest list. I am not averse to knowing his sister better, however. I am sure she has a terrible time of it with that man as her entrée into Society.” Juliet smiled softly, fatigue showing in the fall of her shoulders and slight droop to her eyes. “I am going to bow out of the rest of the entertainment for the evening. My nerves are thoroughly finished, between the pianoforte and the other." Juliet took a deep breath and released a tired sigh.
Io le tue scuse. La proverbiale pistola è caricata. Ora dobbiamo attendere per il primo assaggio di mio fratello, denti blu.
I will make your excuses. The proverbial gun is loaded. Now we wait for first glimpse of my brother's blue teeth.
Juliet laughed gently and gave her friend a quick hug. "I will see you at breakfast then. It should be entertaining!"
Chapter Fifteen
The common curse of mankind – folly and ignorance.
William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, Act 2, Scene 3
After her early night Juliet was surprised at how well and long she had slept. She awoke with a desire to see the fruition of their joke, yet dreaded its discovery all the same. Hopefully, the Duke would suspect his fellow lords; when he inevitably discovered their guilt, she feared his response. He had been very polite towards her of late, seeming to finally see her as an adult, or at least no longer seeing her as the gangly tomboy she had been.
She involuntarily cringed as a nearly-forgotten memory washed over her. She was twelve, an ungainly mixture of arms, legs, and blossoming figure. The Duke, or as he was known at that time, the Earl of Middlesex, was eighteen, a prime specimen of a young man in Juliet's eyes. He had joined her brothers to fish, and she had sneaked into the trees to spy on the trio. Her memory demanded honesty so she acknowledged to herself that only Jonas commanded her attention. His manner was much more carefree then, these years before his father's death, and he laughed with ease and frequency as the friends joked more than fished. As Juliet's thoughts wove girlish fantasies in her mind, she became distracted, initially failing to notice that the angling had finished and the swimming begun. Her attention was first drawn to the pile of clothes on the bank, and then to the sounds coming from the pond.
Juliet flushed at the memory of her reaction to seeing the wet Duke roughhousing with her brothers in the water. The sight was impressive; she could even admit now that her brothers would draw an appreciative eye. As a twelve year old girl hanging precariously in a tree, she did not fully understand her interest in the Duke's body; she knew enough to admire all that she could see, however. She found herself daydreaming again, this time of Jonas fishing, riding, and fencing, all activities she had watched him do many times. This time, she realized, she pictured him without his shirt. Shaking her head to gather her wayward thoughts, she became aware of the lack of noise in the pond and the approaching sounds of the trio's voices. She started suddenly and her perch became unstable, and she knew in an instant she would fall.
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