But that would never happen.
"I don't know what to do," she said.
She wanted to love the duke. But she loved James instead, because James was warm and affectionate and charitable and everything else the duke wasn't. It didn't matter anymore that James was too tall and had dark hair and a profession. He was brave and stoic. They fit perfectly together, and he was the most handsome man she knew, and as for his profession, well, he was trying to rid the world of the scourge of smallpox, and whatever could be wrong with that?
But she couldn't marry James, because he would never love her. Like her mother, she'd be unhappy all her days. And the duke needed her, and he was very kind, and he was sending her flowers and falling in love with her. James and Amanda belonged together. They shared interests that Juliana didn't. They filled each other's needs.
Juliana's stomach didn't just feel queer anymore—it hurt. And she wished she'd never said she didn't know what to do, because she couldn't possibly explain any of this to James.
Fortunately, he interpreted I don't know what to do in an entirely different context. "It doesn't make much sense to walk all the way up again only to turn around and come back down." Edging her even deeper under the steps, he raised a hand and traced one finger in a shivery line down her jaw. "Don't worry about whether your aunt will see us. I'll watch for her and the others. And while we're waiting, we can practice kissing."
She'd known he would say that, hadn't she? And she knew she shouldn't agree. But she also knew she shouldn't insist he walk up all those stairs again or his poor leg would pain him even more.
"You don't need to practice kissing," she told him with no small amount of conviction. James had been married, after all. She hadn't known that when she'd first suggested he might need lessons, but she knew it now. He'd had practice. He kissed so well a woman would have to be daft to think he needed practice.
His finger lingered at the base of her chin, tracing little circles there, threatening to break her resolve. At the far end of the corridor, the door opened, admitting more people and a little light, just enough so Juliana could see James's gaze, which was so intense she could tell he knew exactly the effect his actions were having on her.
Oh, yes, he'd had practice.
The door shut, plunging the corridor back into darkness as the people made their way to the stairwell. "It's been a long time since I've kissed a woman," he said quietly, apparently reading her mind again.
"It's been less than twenty-four hours."
"But before that, it was a long time."
His finger continued down her throat, slowly, slowly. Wishing she could see him, she swallowed hard. "You're not going to unbutton, are you?"
His laugh was quick, low, and pleased. "No, I'm not going to unbutton here." His finger zigzagged down her chest, lightly, lightly, making every nerve in her body sing. "Practice with me, Juliana," he murmured as it disappeared into the little valley between her breasts.
She couldn't breathe. No man had ever touched her there, and now his finger was tracing up and down, making her heart pound and her breasts ache.
More people were coming down the corridor, but she couldn't seem to care.
"They cannot see you," he whispered, bending his neck, angling his head, lowering his mouth toward hers. "Will you practice?" His breath whispered across her lips. "Will you?"
And she let him. She whispered, "Yes." God help her, though he clearly didn't need practice, she allowed him to practice anyway. Just once. Or maybe twice.
She lost count.
His kisses were drugging. Little nipping ones at first, and then deeper ones, until she opened her mouth and invited him in. People went up and down the stairs overhead while his tongue tangled with hers in a dance so exciting it made heat gather low in her middle. His finger still played between her breasts, and his other hand pressed against her back, pulling her closer.
Her pulse raced, and her head swam, and she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to kiss her forever. She wanted him to make her forget that she shouldn't be wanting him.
He shifted his finger inside her bodice and touched a nipple.
She sucked in her breath, breaking the kiss.
"I'm not unbuttoning," he murmured, rubbing the sensitive crest.
No, what he was doing was much more effective. It made the heat down lower more urgent. She rocked against him as he kept rubbing and kissed a tingling trail down her throat.
She feared her knees might fail. "James!" she breathed.
"Hmm?" He placed little damp kisses all across her low neckline, maneuvering his hand inside her bodice until he managed to free her other breast.
And his warm mouth closed over it.
"James!"
"Juliana, is that you?"
His mouth left her. "Is that you, Lady Frances?" He whirled around and started down the corridor while Juliana yanked her dress back into place.
More footsteps sounded on the stairs, growing closer. Juliana stepped into the corridor just as four dark forms made it to the bottom. "There you all are!" she said.
At the other end, James opened the door, admitting a shaft of light. "We were looking for you."
"We were looking for you," Frances said, blinking madly. Well, it was dim, and she wasn't wearing her spectacles. "Lady Amanda wishes to return home."
"I was dizzy up there," Amanda said.
Juliana had felt a little dizzy up there, too, but she felt much more dizzy now. Dizzy and confused. She followed the others out into Leicester Square. Her knees still felt shaky. Her breasts ached as though James were still touching them.
She wished he were still touching them.
Her stomach was hurting again.
James would never love her. He needed to kiss Amanda and marry her, or everything would be ruined.
"Where should we go now?" she asked.
"Parliament," the duke said.
James pulled out his pocket watch, opened it, and snapped it shut. "Good God, it's nearly four o'clock." Indeed, people were starting to stream out of the Panorama. "The two of us should definitely go to Parliament."
How in heaven's name was James going to kiss Amanda and decide to marry her if he was always in Parliament? "I've a sewing party from one o'clock until three tomorrow, but how about if we go somewhere in the late afternoon or the evening? The House of Lords doesn't meet on Wednesdays."
"We can go to Almack's," Amanda suggested.
"No," James said at the same time Juliana said, "I think not."
She wondered why he didn't want to attend Almack's, but it didn't really signify, because Almack's was a bad idea. Aunt Frances might be rather blind these days, but the lady patronesses who ran Almack's had vision sharper than tacks. James would never be able to kiss Amanda there. "How about Vauxhall Gardens?" she suggested instead.
"I adore Vauxhall Gardens," Frances put in approvingly. "Especially at night."
"Only ladies of easy virtue attend Vauxhall Gardens at night," Amanda said, either unaware or unconcerned that she'd just insulted Frances. "I enjoy gardens, but I'd prefer to visit one that is 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," the duke said dryly.
Juliana shot him a peeved glance before turning back to James. "Is it very exciting?"
"It's very peaceful. If you haven't heard of it, that's because one must be a physician or apothecary to gain entrance. But I'm allowed to bring guests, and I think Lady Amanda would like it. I shall ask my cook to prepare a picnic supper."
"It sounds perfect," the duke said. "Shall we say five o'clock? Now I think we should be off."
THIRTY-THREE
JAMES'S AUNTS were 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 Balmfor
th'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 a majority of the finished pieces were simple blankets and clouts. But it had been the first time the number of items accumulated exceeded the number of items still unmade, which seemed a milestone of sorts.
Counting today, she had six sewing parties left. 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. "I like to exercise my brain."
"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. "My James was Aurelia's daughter's cousin."
"Much younger cousin," Lady Balmforth pointed out.
"Yes, had she lived she'd have been a grandmother by now, I expect—unlike my James, who's of marriageable age." Lady Stafford shot another smile to Juliana. "I was noticing at my dinner party, my dear, 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."
Rachael nudged Juliana 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."
"For God's sake," Rachael whispered, "I should think you'd rather have a man who wants you."
"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. Don't you want a man who physically wants you?"
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 man 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 a man expecting him to change, 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 man who wants 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. If it seemed he wanted her in a physical sense, that was only because they were friends and he wanted a child.
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.
THIRTY-FOUR
AS JAMES WAS leaving that evening, Cornelia 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—her reactions at the Panorama had been encouraging—bu
t 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's hired to explain 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 man 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 servants 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 an ass, James thought for the umpteenth time.
Tempting Juliana (Regency Chase Family Series, Book 2) Page 22