Biting her lip, she twirled away, pacing restlessly from the carved mantel to the blue velvet hung windows, to the small, round gilt mirror over the rosewood table. She stared at her reflection. She had been told she was beautiful, but all she saw in the mirror were green eyes in a sometimes too pale face, a nose a bit short for real beauty, and a mouth with a full lower lip. Pulling thick auburn curls first one way and then another, she attempted to change that image but was not pleased with the results.
Sophia subjected Juliana’s back and reflection to a critical survey. “You really are quite beautiful, my dear. There really is no need for concern.”
Juliana gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, love. I shall allow you to flatter me, but…,” she frowned, “but I believe improvements could be made!”
Marching to the bellpull, she gave it a strong tug. Almost immediately Smithers appeared in the doorway. He did not look pleased, but then Juliana had found he never did.
“You require my services, ma’am?” he asked in sepulchral tones.
Aunt Sophia rolled her eyes looking to Juliana. Taking a stance before the fireplace, Juliana clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
“Smithers, I need your help,” she said firmly. “My aunt and I wish to cut a dash at Miss Charlotte’s ball, but we need advice. Who should gown us and dress our hair?” She gave him her most charmingly rueful grin. “Can you help us, Smithers? My Father always told me you were up to every rig and row in town.”
Smithers’s sour expression did not alter in the slightest. “As to that, Miss Juliana, I cannot say. However, I have been informed that Monsieur Henri is a genius with a coiffure. I have likewise been informed that Madame Bretin on Bond Street is the finest modiste in London.” He bowed deeply. “I shall see to it, Ma’am.”
Only after the door shut behind Smithers tall black-clad figure did Juliana allow herself a heartfelt sigh of relief.
“My dear, you were superb!” Sophia laughed. “I have always been in awe of Smithers, although…,” she shrugged, “I can’t imagine why, because he looks exactly like your late father’s favorite hound Claudius. Have you ever noticed the resemblance?”
“Aunt Sophia, please! How can you say such things about Smithers? He shall fix us up all right and tight. Father depended upon him utterly. And in this instance I must do so, too, for I have no idea how to go on myself.”
“Is this part of your campaign to find your lonely widower, my dear?” asked her aunt with a decided sparkle in her gray eyes.
A face flashed into Juliana’s thoughts, but it had not the slightest resemblance to an aging widower. Why should she wish to impress him? Naturally, it was only her Vane family pride that made her wish to look her best; it had absolutely nothing to do with an absurd wish to once again see blatant admiration in a pair of magnificent blue eyes.
Juliana smiled with pleasure up into Freddie’s round, open face. They had a perfect afternoon for a ride in the park.
Eyeing her in appreciation, Freddie’s mouth curved into a wide grin when he helped her into his shining black curricle.
“You’ll turn heads today, Juliana. You’re in great looks,” he complimented.
“Thank you,” she replied softly, rather pleased herself with her dark green velvet pelisse and matching hat with its curled beige ostrich plume. She had kept Freddie waiting a fashionable twenty minutes while she took great care with her toilette. One never knew whom one might meet on a drive, she had said pertly to her aunt when quizzed about her uncharacteristic fussing. Settling back with a sigh, she turned a serene countenance to her companion. She was quite looking forward to this outing.
A strong spring breeze lifted Juliana’s curled ostrich plume tickling her cheek. Laughing, she flicked it back into place, gazing once again in awe at the bustling knots of shoppers and hawkers on the streets of London. She thought she would never become accustomed to its crowded condition. The air was not the sweet, clean scent of Wentworth Park, rather a heavy acid smell, yet for some reason it filled Juliana with new energy.
They entered through the high stone gateway of Hyde Park and immediately joined the mass of barouches, phaetons, dashing curricles, beautiful horses with equally impressive riders, and old-fashioned landaus carrying the dowagers and young misses of the ton on Rotten Row.
Juliana had married Will without having a Season, but Freddie was well-known and apparently quite a favorite, for they were greeted on all sides and often stopped so that she could be introduced. Juliana feared she would never recall all her new acquaintances.
They had just left a plump, merry matron whom Freddie had introduced as Lady Jersey when, in a sonorous whisper, he informed her that Sally Jersey was one of the patrons of Almacks, that great bastion of the ton.
“No need to worry though,” Freddie told her confidently. “Old harridan is a bosom friend of my mother’s. Put a good word in for you with the old girl.”
“Freddie! I’m sure Lady Jersey wouldn’t enjoy being referred to as a harridan or as the old girl!” admonished Juliana with gentle firmness, much as she had done for years to George whenever he had forgotten his manners.
Lord Liscombe grinned. “You called me Freddie. About time! You’re a very comfortable female to be around, Juliana.”
She couldn’t but laugh at his glowing face. “Why thank you … Freddie. You’re very comfortable, too. You remind me of my brother George.”
“Not sure I’m flattered that I remind you of your brother,” Lord Liscombe said wistfully, gazing at her with wide, sorrowful eyes, his grin fading. “Not surprised though. Always happens when I’m with Dominic; no one notices me.”
“The marquis! I have not given him a thought,” Juliana snapped. “It is a great compliment to remind me of George,” she added kindly.
Once again Freddie’s grin widened. “Accept the compliment, Juliana. Glad to hear you ain’t smitten with Dominic. Knew you were full of good sense! The way you handled yourself when you had the carriage accident, stands to reason you wouldn’t fall at Dominic’s feet like most women.”
Deep within her Juliana felt her spirits plunge. “I was under the impression that the marquis was your friend,” Juliana responded quietly.
“Dom’s been my best friend since we were in short pants! Don’t mean I’m blind to his ways. Not his fault, I don’t suppose, that the loveliest of the ton throw themselves at him. Should know better after all these years. All he does is raise their expectations and dash them when he becomes bored.”
“It sounds as though the marquis is a rake,” Juliana said, raising her chin.
Freddie cast a worried glance at her and encountered her arctic glare. “Dash it, you’re right. Talking to you like my own sister. Shouldn’t be talking to you like this about Dominic. He’s a great gun, truly! The best horseman and finest swordsman in the whole ton. Bright too, so clever sometimes can’t even fathom what he’s talking about. Hard to read with the ladies, that’s all.”
“Don’t concern yourself Freddie. I shall not repeat our conversation,” she assured him with dignity.
Looking away from Freddie’s worried face, she saw for the first time the Marquis of Aubrey riding toward them with the most dashing and beautiful lady she had ever encountered. As she watched, the vision turned her head to speak to Dominic, revealing a perfect profile with a sweep of raven black hair caught up under a fetching red hat à la Hussar set at a jaunty angle. Her red velvet riding habit with its black frogging and braid trim showed off her creamy complexion and her dark, slightly slanted eyes. They were indeed a striking couple, the golden marquis and this raven-haired beauty.
Dominic by moonlight had been stunning: the perfect angles of his face, the clear true tones of his skin, hair and eyes, the grace of his athletic, finely muscular body. Yet by the blaze of this afternoon’s sun, he shone even more brilliantly, searching sunbeams turning
his thick hair every shade of gold from citrine to amber.
Freddie followed the direction of her gaze. “That’s Lady Dora Stanwood. The Earl of North’s daughter and Dominic’s latest flirt.”
“They make a stunning couple,” she murmured, unable to drag her eyes away from them.
Freddie shrugged. “Dora thinks so. She’s wild to a fault and the most determined yet to snare him. Doubt she’ll do it though. Bets are on at White’s that she won’t bring him up to snuff. Her family wants her to have a crown of strawberry leaves, but they don’t particularly want her to be Dominic’s duchess.” Flicking a side glance at her, Freddie coughed before adding, “His reputation you know.”
By this time the marquis had spotted them, and the pair turned their horses, picking their way through the throng. The strong breeze which had teased Juliana’s plume had also disordered Dominic’s hair so that a heavy gold curl fell close to the tips of his thick lashes. There was nothing in his expression to try to interpret at this meeting. His perfect face was perfectly blank. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Grenville,” he said smoothly. “I don’t believe you’ve met Lady Dora Stanwood.” Glancing at his partner a slow smile curled his lips. “Mrs. Grenville has just arrived for the Season.”
“How do you do,” Lady Dora said in a soft, highly refined voice. “I hope you will find London to your liking.”
“Thank you. I feel sure I will,” replied Juliana, deciding that Lady Dora’s beauty had a cold perfection about it that she could not like.
Taking exception to a passing carriage, Dora’s mare fidgeted slightly, rearing its head. With a nod and a cool smile her ladyship moved off. Dominic followed after the briefest of farewells. Juliana couldn’t help looking behind her as the marquis and Lady Stanwood threaded their way carefully through riders and carriages until Freddie’s voice brought her back to her surroundings.
“Wonderful stallion of Dominic’s. Arabian you know.”
“Yes. I was just admiring it,” she said innocently, turning to look at him. “I’d love to ride the animal myself.”
“Oh, I say! No chance of that!” he laughed. “No one rides Bucephalus but Dominic.” For a moment he studied her. “Do you enjoy riding?”
“Oh, yes! I rode every day at home in Wentworth Park. My father had me in the saddle before I could walk.”
“Don’t keep a stable in town myself, but Dominic does. Sure he’d be happy to find a proper mount for you. I’ll speak to him if you’d like.”
Juliana felt a ripple of excitement at the idea of riding beside the marquis, for she knew that at least in this she was his equal, but quickly pushed the thought away. “Thank you, but no. My aunt and I shall be quite busy getting settled in and preparing for Charlotte’s ball.”
“Hope you’ll save me a dance,” Freddie grinned. “Perhaps even the first one.”
“Of course, Freddie. It is yours!”
Nodding, he returned his attention to his horses, guiding them carefully through the mass of traffic.
Juliana was pleased that for the moment she did not have to make conversation, for her mind was too busy with thoughts of the Marquis of Aubrey: remembering being held against his hard, muscular chest in the fleeting moments she had regained consciousness in his arms, the feel of his lips on her wrist pulse, the way he had looked at her when Robbie sang in the garden, the surprising emotion he awakened in her at the moment of a stolen kiss, the tenderness in his eyes in Mrs. Forbes’s parlor before Lady Grenville arrived, and the way now he seemed to only look through her. Why did it bother her so? Freddie had told her Dominic was in the habit of dropping damsels the instant they bored him. That must be it! The answer to the puzzle of Dominic’s behavior was quite simple; she had bored him. A fierce jolt of hurt moved through her body. A heartbeat later an equally fierce wish to have the Marquis of Aubrey groveling at her feet for some crumb of attention, which she denied him, rose deliciously to her mind. She knew such thoughts were not worthy of her, but never before had she been snubbed, however politely, by a gentleman and she found she did not care for it. Especially Dominic. Especially after the Blue Boar Inn. There had been something between them which she refused to treat lightly, even as she tried to push it out of her mind.
She would acknowledge that she had been attracted to him, and now wished him to feel the same way. He had once, she knew, for she had seen it in his eyes in the garden and across the card table at the Blue Boar. Juliana did not know how she would do it, but that look would be there again. And as soon as it was, she would … she would … she wasn’t quite sure what she would do.
The late afternoon sunshine pierced the windows of Wentworth House checkering the rose carpeting of the lady’s salon where Aunt Sophia sat when Juliana returned from her drive.
“My dear, your plan has suffered a serious setback!”
Stopping in her tracks, a hot flush washed over Juliana. “How did you know?” she blurted out, for she was so consumed with her plans for the marquis that she was sure her aunt, who had an uncanny way of ferreting out the truth, had seen through her immediately. She dropped down upon the sofa. “I know it isn’t worthy of me. I was sure you wouldn’t approve.”
Sophia raised her eyebrows. “Did you use your parasol?” she asked sharply, touching Juliana’s flushed face. “Just as I suspected! You have a fever. You must go to bed at once.”
“No, no, Aunt! I am quite well. Truly.” Shaking her head, she cupped her warm cheeks with her palms, the wish to justify her intentions toward the marquis warring with a strong conviction that she should lay open her troubled spirit to her aunt. It took her a moment to decide which course she would take. “I have no fever. I cannot believe you could possibly know anything about my plan at this early date,” she said defensively.
“Early date! We worked on this scheme for three months before we told George we were coming to London to find you a husband.” Waving a letter underneath Juliana’s nose she nearly shouted, “Now he is not coming!”
“The plan. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” she replied quickly, snatching the letter from her aunt’s fingers.
“What other plan could I be speaking about? Are we not here for the sole purpose of luring your brother from his chores?”
From the interested look on Sophia’s face Juliana feared the wrong suspicion might be taking root in her fertile mind. Forcing a light laugh Juliana read George’s sprawled writing. “He says that he is still coming and will only be a few days delayed.” Glancing at her aunt, Juliana shrugged. “I see no need for concern.” Allowing the sheet of paper to drift to Sophia’s lap, Juliana rose from the sofa absently smoothing out the folds of her skirt.
“I felt sure you would be upset,” Sophia said indignantly, then stopped, looking up at her with sudden understanding. “Does this mean you have changed your mind?”
Smiling ruefully, Juliana realized that Dominic had done what she had feared: caused her to stray from her purpose. But only briefly. As soon as she accomplished her admittedly unworthy goal, she would turn her back on him and continue with her plan to set her brother on the road to acquiring some town bronze and find for herself a comfortable widower so that when George did finally marry, he would not need to be concerned about his widowed sister.
“Yes,” she said, lifting her chin with determination. “I believe, for the moment there is no hurry in finding my widower. We will simply enjoy the Season.” Thankful to have decided at last what strategy she would follow, Juliana moved toward the parlor door only to be brought up short by her aunt.
“By the way, Smithers has arranged for us to visit Madame Bretin’s on Bond Street tomorrow. Shall we still keep the appointment?”
“Of course. It is essential to my plan,” Juliana sniffed before marching out of the room.
The instant the door clicked shut behind her, Sophia fell back upon the pillows, her delighted
laughter filling the room. “At last! And now, Juliana my love, I can carry out my plan for you!”
Chapter 5
Smithers had outdone himself. When Sophia and Juliana arrived in Bond Street, Madame Bretin’s shop was shuttered and a small card reading “By Appointment Only” was affixed to the door. Madame herself ushered them in with much ceremony, stating that she was delighted to be entirely at their service and able to devote herself to their special needs.
Juliana was slightly taken aback by this ingratiating behavior, but Sophia seemed to take it as their due. So Juliana unconcernedly moved to the tables laden with materials in every color of the rainbow and searched the shelves stacked with bolts of sheer muslins, linens, and batistes. Madame Bretin, much to Juliana’s dismay, peered at her intently, watching her every movement as she seemingly assessed her figure. Finally, as if satisfied, Madame whirled briskly, urging them to the back of the shop, down a short hallway into a large room hung completely about with tall mirrors.
Bringing out a chair, she motioned Sophia to sit down. She turned to Juliana and without preamble asked her to remove her dress for the measurements. Juliana looked at her aunt for guidance, but Sophia smiled complacently and nodded her head in encouragement.
The couturiere was most exacting with her tape while she kept up a steady flow of compliments concerning Juliana’s trim waist, full bosom, and long line of leg for one as petite as she.
Flushing with embarrassment, Juliana met the amused eyes of her aunt in the mirror, then quickly glanced away, biting her lip. She might have been so undignified as to chuckle at Madame’s fulsome compliments if the modiste hadn’t suddenly straightened from measuring Juliana’s hips to peer intently into her eyes.
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