"They're being polite."
"They're happy. He's a wealthy widower; she's a lonely widow. Why shouldn't they be happy to dance together?"
"Maybe because you pushed them into it?"
"Some people need a little pushing." She eyed her sister, thinking she looked a bit lonely. "Shall I find a dance partner for you?"
"Holy Hannah," Corinna said and walked off.
Juliana looked back to the dance floor. No matter what her sister said, it was obvious Lord Cavanaugh and James's mother were thoroughly enjoying their dance. And Lord Malmsey and Aunt Frances were dancing again, their eyes locked on each other in a way that made Juliana sigh with envy. If only the duke would look at her like that. Well, maybe he would now, having eaten the macaroons.
She was looking around for him when Amanda walked up. "I talked to Lord Malmsey."
"About what?" Juliana gasped, picturing her giving him a piece of her mind about dancing with Frances.
But Amanda surprised her. "About our betrothal. You were right—I had no call to disapprove of him showing interest in another woman. I told him that I understand his change of heart, and feel the same, and I'm going to find a way out of the marriage that will leave him with his honor intact."
Juliana slumped in relief. "You've decided to marry Lord Stafford, then."
Amanda shook her head. "I'm still not struck by love."
Impossible. "Did Lord Stafford touch you?" Juliana asked.
"Touch me? He touched my hand, of course, during the dance when we progressed."
"But nothing else? Nothing more…amorous?"
"Amorous?" Amanda's eyes widened. "I should hope not! It's not as though we're engaged."
They'd never get engaged if she didn't let him touch her. "The plan was to find someone willing to compromise you," Juliana reminded her. "And some touching, after all, will be necessary in order to convince your father that you're compromised. Perhaps a little experimentation would be wise."
Amanda appeared to quail at the very idea. "It's too soon. I've yet to decide if Lord Stafford is the man I wish to have compromise me."
"Well, your wedding is only three weeks off. You'd best make your decision quickly, or it will be Lord Malmsey touching you instead of someone of your own choosing."
The poor girl's face went white, and Juliana's heart went out to her. How a woman as reserved as Amanda would get through her wedding night was something she didn't even want to contemplate.
"We'll find someone," she promised, reaching to pat Amanda's hand. "I'm just not sure it's realistic to expect to be struck by love in so little time."
Amanda bit her lip, looking more reserved than ever. "Perhaps you're right."
"If you'd allow Lord Stafford to touch you, that might help."
"He hasn't tried," Amanda said.
Surely the effect of the macaroons hadn't worn off that quickly. "Perhaps if you were a bit more receptive."
"I'll try." Amanda fiddled with her fan. "Do you enjoy it when the duke touches you?"
"Very much," Juliana assured her, wishing the duke had actually touched her so she wouldn't have to fib. "Listen. The musicians are starting a waltz. That's an excellent dance for touching."
She took Amanda's arm and marched her to where James was talking to his mother. "Lady Amanda would love to waltz," she said.
When he didn't move, Lady Stafford nudged him. "Go on, James. We can finish this discussion at home."
"Very well," he said stiffly, offering Amanda his arm. "Shall we dance again?"
As the young couple walked off, Lady Stafford gave a happy sigh and smiled at Juliana, looking as though she had something to say to her. Something nice. But just then, Lord Cavanaugh came up and smartly bowed before the older woman.
"Shall we dance again?" he asked.
Shooting Juliana an even wider smile over her shoulder, Lady Stafford went off with him.
Juliana looked around and spotted the Duke of Castleton walking out of the card room. Aiming her best, practiced smile at him, she went up and tapped him on the arm. "Shall we dance again?"
That line had worked well for everyone else, but the duke looked startled. Juliana supposed it wasn't proper for a lady to do the asking, but she was dying to see how well the macaroons had worked, so she started toward the dance floor, knowing he would follow.
And he did follow, of course. But when they started to waltz, his arms were rigid, and he held her just as far away as ever.
"Who is that dancing with Stafford?" he asked. "Do you know her?"
"That's Lady Amanda Wolverston, and I know her very well. We grew up together as neighbors."
"I've never noticed her before."
Well, of course he hadn't. No one had noticed Amanda before Juliana took her in hand. "What did you think of Lord Stafford's controversial speech?"
"To which speech do you refer?"
"Yesterday's. In Parliament. Concerning smallpox vaccinations."
"How would you come to know of that?" he asked, but apparently the question was rhetorical, because he didn't wait for an answer. "I was at my club all day and night," he told her. "Playing cards."
She wondered why she found that disturbing. After all, she wanted a man who had plenty of time for her, and clearly he put pleasure before more serious pursuits. "Did you win?"
"Does it matter? It was an amusing way to pass the hours." He smiled down on her indulgently. "I can afford to lose, I assure you. I have plenty of money to both gamble and buy flowers for a special lady."
She was glad he thought she was special, but if he had extra funds, perhaps they'd be better spent on something more meaningful. A worthy cause. The Foundling Hospital, perhaps, or smallpox vaccinations.
Once she knew him better, she'd make the suggestion. She wished he would loosen up so she could get to know him better. "Did you eat any more of my macaroons?" she asked, concluding he hadn't.
"All of them," he said, surprising her. "They tasted so wonderful, and I couldn't find anywhere to put them to save them for later."
That was as she'd expected. But why weren't they working? "I'm glad you enjoyed them."
"They were truly very good."
Apparently they weren't good enough. They didn't seem to make him amorous at all. She moved a little bit closer, but he stiffened his arms until they were once more at a proper distance.
Lord Cavanaugh, she noticed, wasn't dancing nearly so properly with Lady Stafford. The two of them looked rather cozy. And Aunt Frances and Lord Malmsey were so close they were all but tromping on each other's toes. Amanda, however, was dancing at a proper distance from James.
She should have left James more macaroons, considering two had worn off too quickly and even seven hadn't affected the duke. What would make a man so resistant? Since the duke was a by-blow, she imagined his father might have acted distant, knowing his son was actually sired by another. But a good mother should have made up for that.
"Was your mother very affectionate?" she asked.
"Affectionate?" He looked taken aback by the mere question. "I wouldn't know. I never knew either of my parents."
Oh, how tragic. "Why was that?"
"They died when I was six months old. Drowned in a storm while crossing the Channel."
"I'm so sorry." Juliana had lost her parents as a young adult—she could hardly imagine growing up without parents altogether. Even motherless Emily and Amanda had fathers in their lives. "Who raised you, then?"
His handsome mouth compressed into a thin line. "My uncle and aunt—my father's brother and his wife. Did you know I was born in your house? The first thing they did as my guardians was sell that house to your father and then buy my current, more splendid house in Grosvenor Square. I was well satisfied to turn them out of it when I gained my majority."
She was happy to hear he had a splendid house, but she wondered at the bitterness in his tone. "Were they not nice to you?"
"Nice?" He laughed, but it was a laugh devoid of humor. "If I had
n't been born half a year before my parents died, my uncle and aunt would have been the duke and duchess. They never forgave me for robbing them of that."
He didn't offer any details, but Juliana could imagine them for herself. His uncle and aunt had been cold, cruel, and resentful. He'd received no hugs growing up, no physical affection.
No wonder he wasn't affectionate himself. No one had ever shown him how. "I'm so sorry you had a sad childhood," she told him.
"You're so caring, my dear," he said, giving her a fond smile.
Now she understood. No one had cared for him throughout his childhood, which was why he had a hard time getting close to others now. Like all people, he'd learned by example, and he needed a new example to learn by.
Human touch could go a long way. Once he learned to be more affectionate, he would also be more charitable. The poor man needed someone in his life to gently guide him, to help his softer side come to the fore.
He needed her. With her in his life, demonstrating affection and giving to others—
The dance came to an end. Before she could finish formulating her plan, he bowed formally and thanked her.
No sooner had he walked away than Lady Stafford walked up. "I must thank you for introducing me to Lord Cavanaugh."
"I thought you already knew him."
"Reintroducing me, then." She smiled, her kindly eyes reminding Juliana of her own mother. "I'm giving a little dinner party tomorrow evening at Stafford House, and Lord Cavanaugh has agreed to attend. My son will be there, too. Might I have the pleasure of your company as well?"
"I'd be delighted to attend." She liked James's mother. Lady Stafford was very motherly, and Juliana missed her mother rather a lot. Plus the dinner would give her a chance to ask James how his courtship of Amanda was proceeding and remind him to invite her to visit the Egyptian Hall. Once Amanda discovered their shared interest in Roman antiquities, she was certain to fall in love.
"I'm also going to ask the young lady with whom my son has been dancing." Lady Stafford's gaze slid to Amanda and back. "Shall I invite the Duke of Castleton to round out our party?"
"That would be lovely," Juliana said.
That would be perfect, in fact. The duke never called on Sundays, so the dinner would give her a chance to begin helping him right away. She'd be able to direct the conversation to James's cause and perhaps persuade him to contribute.
She hoped the duke would come to like James, and vice versa. Perhaps, in the long run, she and the duke could become fast friends with James and Amanda and have more dinner parties after both couples were married. That would be an ideal situation, because she'd come to enjoy James's company in the time they'd spent together.
"Eight o'clock, then?" the older woman asked. "Lady Amanda lives on your street, doesn't she? On the west side of Berkeley Square? I'll have the Stafford carriage sent round for you both."
Chapter Twenty-Two
APPLE AND ORANGE TART
Peel two Oranges and make into pieces, then peel some Apples into thin slices. Put in a bowle with a smidgen of Flour, a cup of Sugar, some Cinnamon and Ginger. Put into your paste with pieces of Butter all over. Cover with more paste and some Sugar and bake in your oven until browne.
Excellent to bring to a party with friends. As the apples and oranges in this tart go together, so do the people who eat it.
—Eleanor, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1735
“Isn't this a stunning carriage?" Juliana asked as she and Amanda neared Stafford House.
"Lord Stafford is an earl." Amanda absentmindedly ran a hand over the deep green velvet upholstery. "I'd expect him to have a nice carriage."
The well-sprung vehicle rocked, making Juliana tighten her grip on the tart she'd baked that afternoon. Was there nothing about the man that would impress her friend? "He likes chess," she reminded her, and then, even though she'd meant to let Amanda discover they had more in common at the Egyptian Hall, she added, "And you might want to ask him if he's interested in Roman antiq—"
She cut off mid-word as the carriage came to a stop and the door opened, revealing a footman dressed in crimson livery trimmed in gold. "Welcome to Stafford House," he said, offering a gloved hand to help them down.
"Gracious me," Amanda breathed, her eyes widening as she stepped out and stood before the mansion. "I've noticed this house from Green Park, but I had no idea it belonged to Lord Stafford." It was three stories tall, the facade clad in brilliant white Portland stone. "Would you look at those statues on top of that Roman Doric portico? Bacchus, Flora, and Ceres."
Juliana hadn't a clue who Bacchus, Flora, and Ceres were, but she smiled all the same. "Lord Stafford can name ancient gods and goddesses, just like you."
A butler ushered them inside an impressive entrance hall with curved walls, a pale marble floor, and an arched window looking out on a resplendent central courtyard garden.
"Gracious me," Amanda repeated, staring up at a strip of decorations that ran around the room below the carved oval ceiling. "That frieze looks like the one in the Temple of Jupiter." Slowly, reverently, she walked toward a large marble bust that sat on a pedestal before the window. "This is amazing." She reached a hand as though to touch it, then stopped herself. "It must be priceless."
"He doesn't look like a god," Juliana said.
"He isn't. That's Emperor Lucius Verus, the adopted brother of Marcus Aurelius who ruled with him."
Juliana examined the haughty, bearded fellow. "He's very handsome."
"He was said to be weak and indulgent. I understand that his death was rather a relief to the Empire."
"How do you know such things?" Juliana asked.
"From books, of course. My father's library has grown by leaps and bounds since he discovered the ruins on the property. Do you not read, too?"
"Most certainly." Newspapers, because she liked to keep up with what was going on in the world. Magazines by the dozen. Poetry and the latest novels discussed in polite company. And those discussed in whispers, such as the torrid Minerva Press romance currently hidden beneath her pillow. But Roman history and mythology?
She'd had no idea Amanda was so bookish.
After collecting their pelisses and umbrellas, the butler led them through a staircase hall. Or at least he tried to lead them through a staircase hall. Amanda stopped in her tracks, staring at a statue that was larger-than-life.
"It's a centaur," she said.
"Even I know that. My education isn't totally lacking." Juliana was rather fascinated by all the ridges on the creature's bare, toned chest. But Amanda had already moved on, kneeling down by a large fragment of carved stone that sat beneath an inlaid wooden side table.
"Part of a sarcophagus, I'd guess." She ran her fingers across the piece. "First century."
"How do you know?" Juliana wondered.
Amanda just shrugged as she rose, gesturing to two more carved stone pieces on either side of the table. "Funerary altars. Also first century. The flat surface was used for sacrificial ceremonies." She sighed expansively. "This house is just full of treasures."
The butler continued on, leading them down a corridor lined with gilt-framed paintings of Stafford ancestors, then turning into the most gorgeous room Juliana had ever seen. Between arched walls painted a soft pistachio green, gilded columns looked like golden palm trees, their fronds projecting high overhead. In the back of the room, a large alcove was crowned with a domed ceiling, divided into small gilt-edged squares alternately tinted green and pink.
Dressed in a burgundy gown with pink trim, Lady Stafford rose from where she faced Lord Cavanaugh across a chessboard and greeted them with a smile. "Good evening. I'm so pleased you could both come." She moved to take the dish Juliana was holding out. "What is this, my dear?"
"An apple and orange tart. The recipe was my great-grandmother's."
She lifted the lace doily that covered it. "Oh, my. It smells delicious."
"It's supposed to promote friendship," Amanda informed her, gazing down
at the chess set.
"Lovely!" Lady Stafford set the tart on a marble side table. "We shall serve it after dinner."
"What a beautiful chess set," Juliana said, amused by Amanda's fascination. "Roman gladiators, aren't they? Do the pieces date back to that time?"
"No, they look much newer," Amanda said. "And besides, chess isn't that old. It wasn't invented until after the Empire fell."
"My father-in-law commissioned the set to be carved." Lady Stafford lifted a crystal decanter. "Would you care for some sherry?"
"A little, please." Juliana took the first glass she poured and perched herself on a pale green satin love seat with gilt palm tree legs that had obviously been designed to match the room. "Thank you so much for inviting us to your home."
"It's my son's home," Lady Stafford said, handing Amanda another glass.
That son walked into the room with the duke, the two of them deep in conversation. Juliana was thrilled to see the men were becoming friends already. She smoothed the skirts of her white dress, which she'd chosen hoping the duke would think it proper and ladylike.
Very pure, as James had said.
Sipping sherry, Amanda sat beside her. "He's so much taller," she whispered.
James was much taller than the duke. Which was why he and Amanda looked so good together.
"And darker," Amanda added.
Yes, James was dark. The duke looked pasty in comparison. Pasty and pale-haired. But only in comparison. And Juliana preferred pale hair.
"And much more handsome."
"It isn't polite to whisper," Juliana whispered back. She didn't want to think about James being much more handsome. And it wasn't true, anyway.
Was it?
"Good evening, ladies," James said, his voice low and chocolate-smooth as always. On hearing it, Juliana felt her knees weaken as always, too, even though she was sitting down.
"Good evening," the duke said in his perfectly normal voice. He smiled at Juliana. "It's lovely to see you again, my dear."
Well, why should a voice matter, anyway? The duke was a duke. And it was obvious he cared for her, even if he didn't touch her.
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 24