A footman appeared in the doorway and announced dinner. Lord Cavanaugh offered Lady Stafford his arm. "Shall we?"
The rest of them followed the older couple into a large formal dining room. The extra leaves had been removed from the mahogany table to make it an oval for six. While a footman drew back Juliana's chair, she took a moment to look around. The dining room featured Roman-looking marble columns, a beautiful Turkey carpet, and a carved marble fireplace. But the most impressive thing was the ceiling, a scalloped design with round inset panels representing classical scenes, all decorated in gold.
"This is exquisite," she said as she sank onto her forest green velvet seat.
"My late husband's pride and joy." Lady Stafford sat, too. "It was based on a ceiling in the Baths of Augustus in Rome."
Gazing up at it, Amanda sighed. "This is the most magnificent house I've ever seen. Everything in it is absolutely splendid." She turned to James beside her. "You have wonderful taste, Lord Stafford."
His mother laughed. "The taste was his grandfather's. The man hired the venerable Henry Holland as his designer. Were it up to my son, he'd probably sell the whole lot and use the money to vaccinate every last soul in England."
James frowned. "The sale of this house and its contents wouldn't begin to cover—"
"I was jesting," Lady Stafford broke in with the sort of fond smile a mother gives her exasperating-but-adored son. "I trust you not to sell off the family treasures."
Juliana saw an opportunity to segue into a matter she'd hoped to discuss. "If others would help with Lord Stafford's cause," she said as asparagus soup was served in porcelain bowls with gold Stafford crests on their crimson rims, "there would be no need to sell anything." Lifting her spoon, which was gold, too, she turned to the duke. "Eradicating smallpox is a worthy goal that all should contribute toward, don't you think?"
"All?" The duke raised his own gold spoon. "Worthy or not, I don't expect everyone can afford to donate."
"Certainly you can," she said sweetly.
She thought she heard choking sounds from James. Or maybe a muffled chortle.
Lord Cavanaugh took a sip of wine. "I'd be pleased to contribute."
"Thank you very much," James said with an expression of startled approval. "That would be greatly appreciated."
Lady Stafford looked quite delighted.
Amanda turned a smile on James. "I should like to contribute, too," she said prettily, "but alas, I shall need to ask my father for the funds."
Knowing Amanda's father, Juliana suspected he wouldn't donate a penny. And she was sure Amanda knew that, too. "Time is also valuable," she said. "You could volunteer your aid in lieu of money."
Amanda blinked and pressed a hand to her pale blue muslin bodice. "Are you suggesting I give smallpox vaccinations?"
"No, of course not. Doctors give the vaccinations. But I imagine there are other tasks you could do that would prove helpful."
"Certainly," James put in, setting down his spoon, which Juliana had decided was actually sterling plated in gold, because, really, solid gold spoons were a little much, even for people as rich as the Staffords. "There are always new supplies arriving that need to be unpacked and arranged on the shelves behind the counter, and schedules to be made out in a hand neater than mine, and treatment rooms to be cleaned, and—"
"You're looking for people to clean rooms?" Amanda interrupted. She pinned Juliana with a pointed gaze. "Are you going to volunteer, too, then?"
In truth, Juliana hadn't a clue why she'd suggested Amanda volunteer in the first place. She certainly didn't expect her to clean treatment rooms—she doubted the woman had cleaned anything in her life, with the possible exception of her own teeth. But something about Amanda's disingenuous offer of money had rubbed her the wrong way.
And now she'd backed herself into a corner. "I'd be happy to volunteer," Juliana found herself saying. She lifted her chin. She did like helping people, and while she was quite busy sewing baby clothes, she imagined she could spare a little time. "As I said, it's a worthy cause."
"Capital!" James exclaimed so enthusiastically she half expected him to break into applause. "How about Wednesday at one o'clock?"
"She can't," Amanda said. "She has a sewing party every Wednesday at one."
Drat. "I'll move this week's party to tomorrow."
"Sewing party?" Lady Stafford asked.
"Lady Juliana supports many worthy causes," Amanda said. "She's making baby clothes for the Foundling Hospital."
Juliana had a sudden thought. "It might be a good idea," she suggested to James, "for you to vaccinate the foundlings."
"I already do," he said, which made her admire him even more. "I visit there twice every year. "
Lady Stafford looked to Juliana. "Do you need more help sewing the baby clothes, dear? I'd be pleased to attend your party tomorrow."
"That would be wonderful," Juliana said.
And it was. But she spent the rest of dinner wondering how it happened that she'd ended up volunteering to help at the Institute when she'd suggested Amanda do so, and Lord Cavanaugh had ended up donating money when she'd asked that of the duke.
Maybe she was losing her touch.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After dinner, when the ladies would usually have left the men alone with their port, Lady Stafford suggested they all adjourn to the Palm Room instead. While the men poured and Lady Stafford busied herself serving the apple and orange tart, Amanda drew Juliana into the alcove at the back of the room.
"Can you believe this house?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling at last. "Is it not the most amazing thing you've ever seen?"
Juliana's gaze wandered the gold palm fronds, the gold and crystal chandeliers, the gold-trimmed ceiling. "There's a lot of gold."
Smiling, Amanda nodded. "Even the silverware is gold."
"It's sterling plated in gold," Juliana informed her.
"Regardless. What's truly amazing is all the antiquities. They make the terracotta pots and glass flasks my father's uncovered look like so much rubbish." Her whisper dropped even lower. "I want to marry Lord Stafford."
The words Juliana had been waiting to hear. But her friend's sudden change of heart was…well, it was very sudden. "You cannot marry for antiquities," she whispered back, fearing Amanda was making this decision for all the wrong reasons. "I would hope you would like the man more than his possessions."
"Oh, I do. I've decided you're right. My wedding is drawing ever closer, and Lord Stafford and I suit well. We're compatible. He likes chess, and he's clearly interested in all things Roman. Maybe my father was right—maybe there are more important considerations than love. Besides, you said I will learn to love Lord Stafford, and I believe you."
Amanda sounded sincere, Juliana thought. Perhaps she should stop worrying about the reasons and just be relieved her friend was finally consenting to marry James. They did share common interests, and Amanda didn't sicken at the sight of blood. She'd make an excellent physician's wife. It was unfortunate they hadn't the luxury to get to know each other leisurely, but the two of them had been destined to fall in love from the first. She'd said so all along, hadn't she?
She was relieved, she decided.
In fact, she was thrilled. How could she not be thrilled? With the possible exception of civilizing young Emily, all of her projects were progressing perfectly.
Lord Malmsey and Lady Frances were getting along swimmingly. Indeed, at the ball last night, their aging eyes had been glittering with the discovery of new love. Now that Lord Malmsey would no longer need to wed Amanda, the charmingly shy couple would live happily ever after.
The duke didn't seem to mind the company of James and Amanda, which meant that after Juliana married him, she could remain friends with James. She and the duke would have to fall in love before marrying, of course, but maybe they were in love already. How was a woman with her lack of experience supposed to know? And in any case, love was bound to happen soon. The duke cared fo
r her, and he needed her. On the surface, he was perfect—everything she'd been looking for in a man—but inside, he was hurt. With her help, he was going to learn to be affectionate and more charitable. She was going to be a duchess! Her grace, Juliana, the Duchess of Castleton. The name had such a lovely ring to it.
And on top of all of that good news, it looked as though she may have managed to match Lady Stafford with Lord Cavanaugh, even though she'd only intended for them to enjoy a dance.
Everything was going to work out exactly as it should.
Lady Stafford came into the alcove and handed Juliana and Amanda each a crested plate with a slice of the tart and a gold fork. "Your great-grandmother's tart is delicious," she gushed. "Thank you so much for making and bringing it."
"You're very welcome," Juliana said, following her back to the main part of the room. Plate in hand, the duke wandered into the alcove and began chatting with Amanda. As promised in the recipe, the tart was promoting new friendships already.
Lady Stafford seated herself on a chair covered in pale green satin with a palm tree design worked into the fabric. Lord Cavanaugh took the chair nearest hers. James was already sitting on the love seat, digging happily into a slice of tart. There were six more palm tree-decorated chairs and four matching stools, but Juliana sat on the love seat by James, even though she knew that place should be reserved for Amanda.
It would be for but a moment. She had something very important to discuss.
James didn't seem to find anything amiss with her sitting beside him. In fact, he shifted to face her, which put him rather too close. "This tart is excellent," he said. "Did you make it?"
"Of course," she said, trying to scoot a little to the side. Apparently the love seat was too small to share with a man of his size. "Your mother is getting along very well with Lord Cavanaugh, isn't she?"
"She seems to be, yes."
"They seem perfect for each other. His title even begins with C."
"C?"
"Like her sisters, don't you see? Aurelia is Lady Avonleigh, Bedelia is Lady Balmforth, and your mother would be—"
"Cornelia, Lady Cavanaugh. Yes, I see." Looking amused, he swallowed another bite. "But I should think there are more important things for a couple to share than matching names."
"Of course there are," she said, pleased to hear he agreed that couples should have things in common. "They should share interests—for example, chess and antiquities. And in your case especially, I should think you would want a wife who isn't sickened by the sight of blood."
"I'm not a surgeon," he pointed out, "and I don't believe in bleeding patients. Nor would I expect a wife to assist me with my practice. So there's virtually no chance she would have to deal with blood."
That was a bit of a relief, although there was no reason it should be. "James…"
"You mentioned chess," he said. "Would you care for a game?"
"Lady Amanda adores chess." She really had something she needed to discuss. "I prefer playing cards, especially casino."
"I enjoy whist," he said. "Perhaps someday you can teach me casino. When is our next outing?" He reached for his glass of port, rubbing up against her in the process.
Thinking he should be touching Amanda instead, she suppressed a pleasurable but rather disturbing shiver. She could smell his scent again. Very male soap, with a little starch, maybe, and something else she couldn't identify. She leaned closer, in order to keep their conversation private. "You don't need any more lessons."
"Oh." He took a sip and set down the glass, looking relieved. Or maybe disappointed.
No, relieved. There was no reason for him to be disappointed, after all.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Quite. I've been thinking…"
"Yes?" Grazing her again, he forked up another bite.
Juliana lowered her voice. "We need to plan a way for you to publicly compromise Lady Amanda."
The fork clattered back to the plate. "Compromise Lady Amanda? Whyever would I do that?"
"In order to get her father to agree to your marrying her."
"I would never do such an underhanded thing," he whispered fiercely. Juliana couldn't decide whether he looked more shocked or affronted. "And besides, why should her father not accept my suit, should I choose to marry her? I may be engaged in a profession, but I'm an earl as well. It's not as though I'm a pauper."
That much was clear—a pauper didn't set his table with gold spoons. But if James refused to even entertain the thought of compromising Amanda, what would he do if he found out she was already engaged? What would he do if he realized that in order to marry her, he'd have to trick Lord Wolverston into breaking a contract with another man?
He'd refuse to marry her, that was what. He was entirely too honorable to have anything to do with something as underhanded as what Juliana and Amanda had planned. But their plan wasn't underhanded—it was…what was that word James had used to describe his own willingness to bow to Parliament's opposition to making vaccinations compulsory?
Pragmatic, that was it. Her plan was pragmatic. And justified, under the circumstances.
Lord Wolverston wasn't honorable—he was treating his daughter abominably—which meant dishonorable means were entirely justifiable if necessary to stop him.
But she knew James wouldn't see it that way. He was too good a man. Too good for his own good.
As Amanda and the duke stepped into the room from the alcove, Juliana sighed and moved to a chair so Amanda could sit beside James. But Amanda didn't, choosing another chair to sit upon instead, because, after all, she was a reserved sort of woman, and James didn't leave very much room on the cozy love seat.
Heaven forbid Amanda should sit too close to a man—even a man she was planning to marry.
Juliana shrugged and took a bite of her tart, thinking that if James and Amanda weren't going to share the love seat, she should share it herself with the duke so she could start teaching him to be more affectionate. He'd chosen the chair beside her, unsurprisingly, but that wasn't close enough to show him how good being truly close could feel. Of course, before she could share the love seat with the duke, she'd have to get James to move off of it. But that shouldn't be any problem at all.
"Lord Stafford would like to pass some time playing chess," she told Amanda.
"Another time," James disagreed. "An evening is never long in good company."
"An ancient proverb," Amanda said with a small smile.
Whether it was a proverb or not, Juliana had failed to get James off the love seat. Oh, well, she thought with an internal sigh, she'd have to sit closer to the duke next time. And so she spent the evening being good company…all the while pondering what she could do to help a good man like James win the happiness he deserved.
And failing utterly to come up with anything.
* * *
"What a lovely girl," Cornelia said after closing the door behind their guests.
James turned to her wearily. Spending time with Juliana—without touching her as he itched to—seemed to wear him out. "Yes, Mother," he said. "Lady Amanda is quite lovely."
"Well, yes, she is, but I was speaking of Lady Juliana." She started up the wide, cantilevered stone staircase that led to the upper floors. "Lady Juliana is lovely inside, don't you think? Not that she isn't pretty, mind you—she's a darling little thing—but I think the way she tries so hard to help is lovely in itself. She really cares about people. She brought us all a sweet she made from her great-grandmother's recipe. She makes clothing for the Foundling Hospital. And she even volunteered to help at the New Hope Institute." Halfway up, she paused and turned to look back at him, her hand on the trompe l'oeil-painted metal balustrade. "A lady of the ton, helping at your Institute!"
James was quite aware that Juliana had mistakenly manipulated herself into that position, but he wouldn't say so to his mother. Because Cornelia was right. Juliana was lovely inside. She wasn't nearly as frivolous as he'd once thought.
"S
he's a treasure," his mother declared. "I think you should marry her instead of Lady Amanda."
"I never said I was marrying anyone!" James burst out, shocked for the second time in one night. Or maybe the third. In fact, when Juliana had shocked him the first time by suggesting he compromise Amanda in order to marry her, he'd shocked himself by almost saying, What if I want to marry you instead?
But he wasn't ready to marry anyone. He wasn't mentally prepared yet to marry without love. And he couldn't fall in love with anyone besides Anne—not even if she was a treasure.
"Good night, Mother," he said, suddenly even wearier than he'd been earlier. But he resumed his climb, taking the steps two at a time so he could escape before Cornelia said anything more. "Sleep well," he called on the landing. Then he made his way down the corridor, ducked into his study, closed the door behind him, and dropped to the long leather sofa that sat before his father's big oak desk.
And there, without undressing, he slept.
Not in the elegant brown-and-plum bedchamber his grandfather had hired the venerable Henry Holland to decorate.
Not in the brown-and-plum-curtained tester bed he'd been born in…the same bed he'd later shared with Anne.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I cannot believe you didn't tell me you'd talked to Lord Stafford," Amanda said the next afternoon. "What did he say, then?"
The day had dawned bright and sunny for a change, and if it wasn't exactly warm, at least it wasn't freezing. Following Juliana's rescheduled sewing party—after which, despite everyone's help, Emily had calculated that Juliana still needed a hundred and seventy-eight items of baby clothes—she'd taken Amanda across the street into Berkeley Square, where they sat on a bench beneath a plane tree, eating ices from Gunter's Tea Shop.
Or at least Juliana was eating hers.
"Do you know," she said, "this is the first ice I've had all summer." She scooped up the last of the frosty treat and spooned it into her mouth, savoring the heavenly flavor. "Delicious. White currant is the best."
Amanda's strawberry ice sat in her dish untouched. "What did he say?" she repeated. "When does he think we should carry out our plan?"
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 25