It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels

by Grace Burrowes

  Now she mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes, before marriage.” And though she’d never expected to quote Aunt Frances regarding intimate matters, she found herself adding, “It’s no great sin, you know.”

  “Perhaps not, my dear, but it also wouldn’t be proper.”

  Her heart sank. “Don’t you want to kiss me?” she asked. “You’re courting me. You’ve sent me flowers three times. I thought you were falling in love with me.”

  She shocked even herself with that admission, but when he said, “Oh, but I am,” her heart soared. The depression she’d felt earlier dissipated like a moist fog in the sun’s rays. The duke was falling in love with her! It was only a matter of time until she knew for sure she was in love with him, too, and then everything would be wonderful—even if she did have to wait until her wedding night to experience a kiss.

  As the dance ended, the clock struck midnight. Finally. After thanking the duke rather profusely, she hurried to meet Amanda.

  “It’s midnight.”

  “I know.” Amanda looked paler than normal. Paler than the duke. Paler than Juliana felt.

  Juliana didn’t know how a person could feel pale, but suddenly, despite her recent elation, she did. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  “I cannot marry Lord Malmsey.”

  Of course she couldn’t. That would be horrible for everyone involved. Especially dear Aunt Frances.

  “You’re going to have to kiss Lord Stafford,” Juliana warned. The thought made her stomach turn. But only because she was about to be the only unkissed woman in London. “And you’re going to have to make sure he undresses you, at least a little. A mere kiss won’t be enough to guarantee a compromise.”

  “I know.” Amanda looked quite determined. “I can do it.”

  “All right, then. I’ll bring Lord Stafford to the library. Remember to take off your gloves. And make your voice a little breathy.”

  Amanda resolutely squared her shoulders as she walked off. Here she was, about to get herself engaged to a young, virile earl, and honestly, she looked about as excited as a woman going to her own funeral.

  Clearly she wasn’t ready for this.

  If there weren’t so many other people involved, Juliana would be tempted to postpone their plans. But postponement would put the compromise at risk of not happening altogether, and it wouldn’t be fair to deprive James, Lord Malmsey, and Aunt Frances of their happiness just to save Amanda from a little discomfort.

  Besides, Amanda would feel much better soon. There’d be a huge scandal following her compromise, of course—enough to make her father come running to London. But that was the whole idea. And once her father arrived and set everything to rights, Amanda would be happy. Happily married to James. She’d feel all tingly when he touched her and kissed her, and—

  Juliana was growing all tingly just thinking about it.

  She found James standing with some other men, sipping another drink while Lord Occlestone grumbled about unnecessary “reforms” that had recently been introduced in Parliament. She’d been planning to feign a troubled expression, but under the circumstances, she didn’t need to. She tapped James on the shoulder.

  He turned and looked down at her. “Juliana.”

  She pulled him away from the group. “What an unpleasant man. His face suits his personality. His nose is square, rather like a pig’s.”

  “I’ve often thought that myself,” James said, a tipsy smile curving his lips.

  Excellent. She wanted him tipsy and amorous. “Lady Amanda is feeling ill.”

  “I was just dancing with her. She looked fine.”

  “Well, she’s feeling ill now. She went to the library to lie down. Will you come and have a look at her?”

  “Of course,” he said, suddenly looking sober and concerned. So sober and concerned that Juliana felt a pang of…

  Guilt? She could think of nothing else the sensation could be. But it was a ridiculous pang of guilt, because this was the right thing for everyone involved.

  She led him to the library, where Amanda was draped elegantly on the sofa, emitting little moans. She’d followed Juliana’s instructions exactly. Her gloves were on the desk, and the room was romantically lit, not too dark and not too light.

  James set his drink and his own gloves beside Amanda’s, then knelt by the sofa. “Lady Amanda, where does it hurt?”

  “It’s my heart,” Amanda said breathily, laying a graceful bare hand on the expanse of bosom exposed in her low neckline. She was a surprisingly good actress. James didn’t stand a chance. Any man would fall for that sensuous voice.

  Except James didn’t. “You’re a mite young for heart trouble,” he told her.

  “But it aches,” she insisted, implying it ached for him. “Won’t you listen to it at least?”

  “If you wish.” He rose to his feet.

  “You cannot listen from there.” Amanda patted her bosom and arched herself toward him. Dear heavens, she was practically falling off the sofa. “You need to press your ear to my heart.”

  “No, I don’t.” Seemingly oblivious to her wanton display, he walked over to the writing desk. “I can hear it better through a tube.”

  “Are you sure?” Amanda asked.

  “I’m positive.” He opened a couple of drawers, then found a piece of paper and rolled it up. “This won’t work as well as my new stethoscope, but it should be better than listening without it.”

  Crossing back to Amanda, he placed one end of the paper tube on her chest and lowered his ear to the other. Except for Amanda’s breathy sighs, the room was silent for a moment.

  “A little fast,” he reported at last. No surprise, since she was likely scared out of her wits. “But strong and steady.”

  Apparently at a loss, Amanda looked toward Juliana.

  “Maybe Lady Amanda has a rash,” she said. “James, I think you should loosen her clothes and have a look.”

  He eyed Amanda’s bare arms and low décolletage in an altogether clinical manner. “I see no evidence of a rash.” He smiled at his patient, but it was a kind smile, not seductive in the least. “This ball is quite a crush. If you’ve no symptoms to report other than a vague ache in your chest, perhaps sitting quietly for a few minutes might help.”

  Juliana didn’t know what to think. Amanda was doing everything right, yet James appeared unmoved. Which, oddly enough, seemed to relieve Juliana’s guilt, but that was as ridiculous as feeling the guilt in the first place.

  And it didn’t explain why.

  Then she suddenly realized why. “Please stay with her while she sits quietly, James. I’m going to fetch Lady Billingsgate.”

  She didn’t, of course—there was no point in fetching Lady Billingsgate until James and Amanda got into a compromising position. Which clearly wasn’t going to happen with her in the room. What a fool she’d been for not realizing James wouldn’t seduce her friend with another woman watching.

  She went out quietly, leaving the door slightly cracked so she could listen.

  “I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time,” she heard James say.

  “I’d feel better if you’d sit beside me.”

  “I cannot imagine how that could help,” James said. But apparently he did sit down, because the next thing he said was, “There. Do you feel better?”

  “No, not yet,” Amanda said and paused. And then she added, “Why don’t you kiss me to make me feel better?”

  A shocked silence followed. Juliana was shocked, too. She hadn’t thought Amanda had it in her to be so forward. But then the silence continued, and Juliana realized it wasn’t a shocked silence. It was the silence that resulted when two people were kissing instead of talking.

  Amanda’s forwardness had worked.

  Well, of course it had worked. James was a man, and what man alone in a room with a woman he loved would resist an invitation to kiss her? This behavior was exactly what Juliana had counted on when she’d plotted to trick him into compromising Ama
nda.

  But now that her plot had worked, the pang returned again. The ridiculous pang of guilt at the thought of tricking a man she’d come to think of as a friend.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” James finally said.

  Juliana couldn’t figure out what he meant by that, exactly, but the pang subsided. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He hadn’t kissed Amanda. Not yet, anyway. She sagged against the door in relief.

  Or rather, she thumped against the door in relief. And then it opened, and she all but fell into the library.

  James caught her by her shoulders and grinned. “I thought you were Lady Billingsgate.”

  Of course he had. She’d said she was going to fetch Lady Billingsgate, after all. A mistake, she now realized, because of course James wouldn’t kiss Amanda while expecting Lady Billingsgate to show up at any moment.

  That was what he’d meant when he’d said it wouldn’t be a good idea.

  But his hands felt warm on her bare shoulders, and she couldn’t be sorry she’d made the mistake. She didn’t want to trick James. She hadn’t wanted to from the first. She was furious with herself for allowing Amanda to talk her into it.

  “I’ll fetch Lady Billingsgate,” he said, “while you sit with Lady Amanda.” And then he left, taking his warm hands with him.

  Juliana made her way to the sofa and collapsed beside her friend.

  Poor Amanda was shaking. “I did it,” she said. “I forced myself to do it. And it didn’t work!”

  “I’m glad it didn’t work. It was unethical to begin with. We mustn’t try it again.” It had made her feel too guilty. In fact, she still felt guilty. She wondered if she’d ever be able to look at James again without feeling a pang of guilt.

  “But why didn’t it work? I did everything you said, but he wouldn’t kiss me.”

  That was because Juliana had led him to think Lady Billingsgate was about to walk in, but she wouldn’t admit that to Amanda. Besides, Amanda was equally at fault. If she had given James any indication that she wanted him—him, not his antiquities—he’d have reached for her the moment he entered the darkened library. “Maybe he wouldn’t kiss you because you haven’t allowed him to kiss you before.”

  “He never tried before,” Amanda said. “He isn’t a very warm person.”

  Juliana felt an urge to laugh, though she wasn’t quite sure whether it was from the obvious absurdity of Amanda’s statement or simply from hearing Amanda, of all people, claim someone else wasn’t warm.

  James was the warmest man she knew. She didn’t believe for a moment that he’d never tried to kiss Amanda. Amanda was plainly too reserved to respond. “You need to act more warmly towards him. You have to make him believe you want him.”

  “I do want him. I cannot marry Lord Malmsey! And our wedding is only two weeks away! I must tell Lord Stafford about my engagement.”

  “You cannot. He’s too honorable to cooperate with any plan to force your father’s hand.”

  “Then how on earth am I to get him to compromise me in time?”

  “You need to let him kiss you, and I don’t mean as part of a plot. A few kisses will lead to more, and eventually you’ll be discovered. Society is a nosy lot, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “That sounds like a plot,” Amanda pointed out.

  “It isn’t.” All right, maybe it was. But it wasn’t the same sort of plot as the one they’d tried tonight. Corinna had said that a kiss made all the difference. Once James kissed Amanda, she’d fall in love with him, and they’d both want more kisses, and the rest would happen naturally.

  Surely there was no reason to feel guilty about that.

  “Lady Amanda!” Lady Billingsgate exclaimed, rushing in. “Are you unwell? Before Lord Stafford left, he told me you’d taken ill.”

  So James had left. Juliana wouldn’t have to look at him again and feel a pang of guilt. But as Amanda explained to Lady Billingsgate that she was quite recovered, thank you, Juliana wondered why knowing she didn’t have to face him failed to bring her a measure of relief.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  RICHMOND MAIDS OF HONOUR

  Mix Curd with Butter and add 4 yolks of Eggs beaten with a glass of Brandy, half a cup of Sugar, fine white Breadcrumbs with some ground Almonds and a little Nutmeg. To this put the juice of one Lemon and the grated yellow of 2. Press puff paste into your tins and fill and bake.

  These small, rich cheesecakes are from a recipe said to have been in the family since Queen Elizabeth’s (my namesake’s) time. They will melt anyone. Excellent for begging forgiveness.

  —Elizabeth, Countess of Greystone, 1728

  THE NEXT morning dawned bright and sunny, which should have made Juliana feel cheerful, but instead she still felt guilty. It being Sunday, she attended St. George’s Hanover Square Church, where the sermon was all about truth, which made her feel even more guilty. So guilty that afterward she baked some Richmond Maids of Honour and asked Griffin to take her to Stafford House.

  “Why?” he asked.

  A perfectly reasonable question, but one she didn’t want to answer. She was entirely too ashamed of her actions to admit them to her brother.

  “I just want to ask Lord Stafford if he’d like me to volunteer next week at the Institute,” she said. That wasn’t quite a lie, since she’d been wondering when he might need her again. “I forgot to ask him last night.” With all that had gone on at the ball, she really had forgotten.

  “You could send him a note,” Griffin suggested.

  “Just take me, will you?”

  “Very well.” Griffin shook his head in that mystified, brotherly way of his. “I cannot imagine why a note won’t do, but I’ll take you.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  When he was sitting across from her in the carriage, he stretched out his legs and steepled his fingers. “How is your romance with Castleton proceeding?”

  She fiddled with the platter on her lap. “He says he’s falling in love with me, but he hasn’t kissed me yet.”

  “He’s a gentleman,” Griffin said, looking not at all unpleased with that news. “He shouldn’t kiss you before you’re wed. Or engaged at the very least.”

  Trust a brother to think that. She considered telling him Corinna believed a woman should kiss some frogs so she’ll know when she’s met her prince, but thought better of it. For one thing, getting Corinna in trouble served no point, and for another, she was beginning to believe her sister was right. If James and Amanda had already kissed, perhaps the plot would have proved successful.

  Not that she wished it had, mind you. She felt guilty enough as it was.

  “The duke believes a couple should wait to kiss, too,” she said instead. “You must be the only two such men in all of London.”

  “I’m certain he’ll ask for your hand soon.” Griffin leaned closer and patted her knee. “I’ll have a talk with him. In my stables.”

  “Pardon?” What did his stables have to do with anything?

  “Never mind. We’ve arrived.” The carriage pulled to a stop in St. James’s Place, and Griffin began to climb out after her.

  “Wait here,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Just wait, will you? I cannot stay long—I have ladies coming to sew at two o’clock.” All of her projects were beginning to make her feel a bit frazzled. “It won’t take me but a minute to ask one simple question.”

  “Very well,” he said, again shaking his head in that mystified, brotherly way of his. He plopped back onto the seat.

  She banged the knocker, and the door was opened by the same crimson-liveried footman who had welcomed her last week. Through the window in the back of the entrance hall, Lady Stafford waved from the courtyard garden. She hurried inside. “How are you, my dear? I didn’t expect to see you until your sewing party this afternoon. What do you have there?”

  Juliana handed her the platter. “Some Richmond Maids of Honour for Lord Stafford
. And for you, too, of course.”

  “They smell divine.”

  “I’ve come to ask Lord Stafford a quick question. Is he at home?”

  “He’s upstairs in his study, spending this beautiful day going over the Institute’s books.” Shaking her head in a fond, motherly way, she started toward the staircase. “Follow me, if you will.”

  It was quite the most elegant staircase Juliana had ever seen. The metal balustrade was painted to look like festooned drapery. Above her head, a segmented barrel ceiling gave the impression of a classical temple interior with garlands swagged between Roman pilasters.

  She assumed Lady Stafford was leading her toward the study, but instead she walked her through an impressive library and into a room so splendid it stole Juliana’s breath. If she had been a fortune-hunting sort of woman, the very sight of it would have made her want to marry James. It put the gorgeous Palm Room below it to shame.

  She’d never seen so much gilt in her life. It dazzled the eye. Fancy gilt columns supported a gilt ceiling. Between all the gleaming gilt, the walls were covered with painted scenes.

  “We call this the Painted Room,” Lady Stafford said. “Marriage is the theme.”

  Juliana nearly swooned over the frieze painted on the chimneypiece.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lady Stafford set the platter of cheesecakes on a gilt-legged marble-topped table. “It’s a copy of the celebrated Aldobrandini Wedding, a Roman fresco excavated in the early seventeenth century and exhibited in the Vatican.”

  “It’s exquisite,” Juliana breathed. The theme of marriage continued all around the room, with some of the scenes executed directly onto the plaster and others painted on gilt-framed canvas panels. Above a pier glass, a circular panel displayed a painting of another Roman wedding. Other panels depicted music, drinking, and dancing. There were paintings of Cupid and Venus. Nymphs danced on the ceiling, lovers courted on the walls, and a frieze of rose wreaths and garlands of flowers went all around the cornice.

  The whole mood was festive and carefree.

  “Isn’t marriage wonderful?” Lady Stafford said. “Please have a seat. I’ll send in my son.”