“Goodness gracious! That is quite something.”
Florian allowed his lips to quirk in response to Lady Juliette’s unfeigned enthusiasm. Oh, who was he kidding? The truth was he could not help but smile, the effect she had on him so enchanting he was practically preening. Which promptly made him frown.
“It is indeed,” Moore said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe Lady Juliette wished to speak with you, Florian. I will allow her to do so without interfering any further.” He sketched a quick bow and disappeared into the crowd.
Florian appreciated Moore’s departure even though his nerves thrummed with uncertain anticipation. “Perhaps you would like to dance?” Even though he detested dancing since it never resulted in anything useful, he’d rather enjoyed partnering with her.
She met his gaze with a hint of mischief. “I would be delighted. Especially since I can think of no better place to address the subject at hand.”
Thrown by her enthusiasm, it took a second for Florian to pull himself together and offer the lady his arm. Her arm wound snuggly around his own and her hand settled neatly upon his forearm. Acutely aware of her warmth and the way his body responded, he guided Lady Juliette toward the edge of the dance floor where a cotillion was presently coming to an end. The music faded and the rustling of silks, the hum of voices and the shuffling of feet filled the air as couples made their way off the floor. The introduction to the next set began to play and Florian dropped a look at his partner.
Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted as if by surprise, and everything stilled around him, shoved into the background by the hard beat of his heart and the woman who filled his vision.
She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “Another waltz,” she said beneath her breath.
“Do you mind?” He didn’t want her to. He wanted her to want it as much as he did right now. Even though he knew it was unwise and even though he shouldn’t allow the attraction forming between them to flourish.
Her head tilted upward, her eyes sparkling with so much wonder and anticipation he felt his heart shudder and his chest grow tight. “Of course not, Florian. The waltz is perfect.”
Unable to speak for fear of sounding as awkward as he felt, he escorted her onto the dance floor and took his position opposite, his hand clasping hers while the other settled snuggly against her waist. A swift exhalation of breath slipped past her lips. It was almost a gasp, though more subtle, coupled with wide-eyed dismay. Gone in an instant, she expertly hid her response beneath a cooler composure. But in the brief second it lasted, Florian realized that as nonchalant as Lady Juliette wished to appear, he affected her in the same way she’d begun affecting him. Which, as enticing as some men might find that, was rather something of a problem. Because if there was one thing Florian could not afford to do, it was getting tangled up in desire and, God forbid, love.
So he did as she did and schooled his features while trying his damnedest to ignore the sweet floral scent that clung to her body and the feel of said body beneath his touch. Spinning her around, he led her expertly between other couples, aware that it felt just as right as it had the last time they’d danced.
“What was it you wished to say?” Perhaps if he could focus on conversation he would not think of how well she fit in his arms.
“My brother met with his bankers the day before yesterday. My donation should be made available to you by tomorrow morning.”
He held her gaze. She was the sister of a duke, so the sum had to be substantial. Still, he had to know the details. “Forgive me for sounding vulgar, but how much exactly are you offering?” He’d never thought to ask until now.
Her eyes lit with the pleasure of knowing she was going to impress him. “Three thousand pounds.”
Florian’s heel hit the floor before it was meant to, forcing him to pull her closer in order to save them from stumbling. This time her gasp was unhindered, her pretty lips parting while the shock of awareness brightened her eyes. He felt it too and wasted no time adding distance once more. “That is quite a staggering sum, my lady.”
She gave a curt nod to indicate she also wished to banish the inconvenient attraction blooming between them. “I know, but what I hope to accomplish will not come cheap.”
He was well aware, but he still had not imagined she’d offer that much. “Is it the entire allowance you are giving up?”
“It is indeed.”
“You have no wish to save some of it in case you need a new bonnet or—”
“Florian.” Her voice was suddenly stripped of its usual softness. “I have survived without material things for most of my life. Since moving into Huntley House I have received more pretty trinkets and fripperies than any person needs. Doing without my allowance for a year will be no hardship, least of all when considering the good that will hopefully come of it.”
She was fairly trembling with emotion, her nerves clearly on edge in spite of her efforts to convey complete calm. He admired her stalwart determination and her burning desire to help those in need. Though he knew it wasn’t wise, that he shouldn’t encourage a deeper attachment, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know more about her.
“Have you always been so passionate in your pursuits?”
She tilted her head as he led her along the periphery of the dance floor, and he suddenly wondered what it might be like to be the subject of her dedication. The thought produced a provocative image of him submitting to her desire, of her mouth descending over his while her hands—
“I think so,” she said, scattering the inconvenient fantasy. “When Raphe . . . Huntley, that is . . . insisted on teaching Amelia and me the Latin he knew, he brought home a book for us to study. With little else to keep me busy, I set my mind to learning every conjugation, reciting them several times daily while challenging myself to learn ten new words a day. Within a couple of months, I’d surpassed my brother’s abilities and had started teaching him.”
She smiled, not arrogantly, as some might have done, but with the pride of a woman who valued her achievements. Impressed and perhaps even slightly awestruck, Florian tightened his hand around hers as he spun her. He knew she and her siblings had faced the ton’s censure when they’d arrived, that there were still some who thought they didn’t belong in high society—that they weren’t good enough. But the truth was that Lady Juliette was better than most of the people who filled this ballroom. She had heart, the will to make a difference, not only to her own life, but to the lives of others, and this both fascinated and drew him like nothing ever had.
“Admiror te fortitudinem.” I admire your strength.
A flicker of appreciation lit her eyes. “Et admiror tuam.” And I admire yours. “Your accomplishments are impressive.” She frowned slightly before saying, “Especially for someone as young as you.”
He started a little, surprised as always by her candor. “Perhaps I’m not as young as you think.”
This forced a grin to her lips, and once again the thought of kissing her pressed upon his mind. He tried to ignore it, but it persisted, heightening his awareness. It was more than a year since he’d last been with a woman. His work had buried his baser instincts and driven away all compulsion.
Until now.
“I would place you at roughly thirty years of age.”
“And I suspect you’ve been studying Debrett’s.”
She made a face. “Guilty. Though studying it might be an overstatement. I only look up the families that intrigue me.”
His heart expanded and for a lovely moment, all his concerns drifted away. It was only the two of them now, caught in a dance that he wished would last forever. He wanted to ask if he intrigued her, but was too afraid of breaking the spell and ruining the moment, though he could not stop his gaze from lowering to her lips.
“There wasn’t as much information about you as I had hoped,” she continued, then hastily added, “I thought it wise to learn as much about you as possible, considering we’ll be working together.”
The magic shattered, stabbing Florian straight in the chest. “I see.” His voice was harder than he’d intended, but it couldn’t be helped. Not when he’d been foolishly lost in a dream without her. “My education and accomplishments are outlined in the medical journals at the Royal College of Surgeons. I’ll send a note over granting you access so you can look through them.”
Her expression changed from confident to uncertain. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you in any way.”
“Why on earth would you suppose you might have done so?”
“I um . . . I don’t know, except . . .”
“Except what?” Hurt by his growing suspicion that every interest she’d shown him had somehow been linked to her goals, he goaded her now with unforgiving insistence.
“You seem upset,” she blurted. “Which isn’t at all what I hoped to accomplish.”
“No. I don’t suppose it was.” He managed to keep the bitterness from his voice as the music faded and relief swamped his body. Noting her stunned expression, however, he hastened to say, “I am not angry with you in the least, my lady. The only person at fault here is me.”
For foolishly getting caught up in a fantasy.
Desperate to leave her company, he bid her a continued good evening and walked away while dreading the thought of having to see her again. Which would be sooner rather than later, considering the next committee meeting was scheduled to take place this coming week and she would now be there.
Chapter 8
Accompanying Gabriella’s mother, Countess of Warwick, to Florian’s town house three days later, Juliette braced herself when the carriage pulled to a jolting halt.
“You look worried,” Lady Warwick said, “but you needn’t be. Remember, you have donated more funds to St. Agatha’s than the rest of the donors combined. Only the Dowager Duchess of Tremaine has offered a larger sum.”
She reached for the door handle and paused. Her eyes met Juliette’s. “Chin up. The last thing you want them to see are your nerves.”
The only problem with this advice was that Juliette’s worries had nothing to do with what the other committee members might think of her and everything to do with the way Florian’s attitude toward her had changed as they’d waltzed with each other at the Brighton Ball. In an instant, the warmth in his eyes had died and the companionable mood they’d been sharing had lost its spark. Juliette had puzzled over it since, unsure of why he’d had such an adverse reaction to what she’d said.
Tamping down her reservations, Juliette followed the countess out of the carriage and up the steps to Florian’s front door. It was opened by a servant the moment they knocked, granting them entry to a modest foyer. Handing over their shawls and bonnets, they continued through a hallway until they reached a door that was standing wide open. Beyond was a decent-sized room—the dining room—with a table fitted for twelve. Three chairs remained vacant while those already seated stood in response to Lady Warwick’s and Juliette’s arrival. It took but a second to notice that no other women were present.
“Welcome, ladies.” The salutation was spoken by Florian who was now coming to greet them. He bowed stiffly, his countenance stark as he held his arm out toward the left side of the table. “Lady Warwick, your customary chair awaits.” Lady Warwick strolled away in the direction he indicated, leaving Juliette alone with the physician. He studied her for a second, then turned toward the rest of the group. “Let us welcome Lady Juliette to our midst. Her generous donation to St. Agatha’s promises to be of great significance.”
The gentlemen dipped their heads in her direction and Florian introduced them each in turn. All were high-ranking peers, with the exception of Mr. Winehurst, whom Florian introduced as an affluent entrepreneur. The rest of the group included the Marquess of Stokes, Viscount Clearwater, the Earl of Elmwood, Baron Hawthorne and the Earl of Wilmington. To Juliette’s dismay, Yates was there as well, which was slightly awkward since she’d been deliberately avoiding him for the past week and a half.
“Come,” Florian said, offering her his arm and pulling her attention away from Yates. “I have secured a seat for you next to me.” When Juliette hesitated, he added, “It will make it easier for me to offer any necessary explanations if you are not at the other end of the table.”
Nodding, she placed her hand carefully upon his arm. Warmth infused her veins as the length of her arm pressed into his.
Disturbed, Juliette tried to ignore the unsettling flutter in the pit of her stomach. It would be difficult enough having to address this group of high-ranking individuals without worrying over her progressively unsettling responses to Florian.
“Allow me,” he murmured, his words breezing along the curve of her neck as he turned to pull out her chair.
Unable to breathe, let alone speak on account of the sudden leap of her pulse, Juliette gave a curt nod and quickly sat before the man could affect her further. Which of course was impossible to hope for since he would soon be sitting immediately to her left.
But rather than claim his own seat, he strode away to welcome another individual—a woman Juliette had never seen before. Once again, the gentlemen stood, as did Lady Warwick, so Juliette followed her lead and rose as well.
No older than Juliette, the woman, whoever she was, was plainly dressed in a practical-looking day gown cut from beige cotton. She wasn’t particularly pretty, her hair a dim shade that fell between blonde and brown without being either. But her gaze was sharp as it swept the room, the fullness of her mouth curving into a welcoming smile the moment she locked eyes with Juliette. Addressing Florian with obvious familiarity, she exchanged a few words with him before making her way toward Juliette while he followed close behind.
“It is lovely to make your acquaintance at last,” the woman told Juliette as soon as she stood before her. “I am Viola Cartwright, the Dowager Duchess of Tremaine and St. Agatha’s patroness.”
It took great effort on Juliette’s part not to gape at the lady. A hundred questions formed in her mind all at once, the most prominent one being how a woman who appeared to be no older than herself had managed to become a dowager duchess and the founder of a hospital. And how was it that Juliette hadn’t seen her or heard of her before? She was clearly going to have to ask Raphe to purchase an updated version of Debrett’s.
Collecting herself, she quickly attempted a curtsey, which felt really strange on account of the duchess’s age. But that was what one did, was it not? The only other duchesses she knew were Amelia and Gabriella, with whom she was always informal. It was as if all the training she’d undergone since arriving in Mayfair flew out the window, leaving her flustered and awkward.
“There is no need for that,” Her Grace said. She spoke so low only Juliette and possibly Florian could hear her. “And since I do believe you and I are going to be friends, I must insist you call me Viola.”
As relieved as Juliette was about not having to stand on ceremony, she could not help but wonder at Viola’s complete departure from formality. It raised her curiosity. But with Viola already moving away to claim her own chair and Florian sitting down right between them, there was no opportunity for her to learn more about the dowager duchess at the moment.
Instead, she acknowledged Florian’s closeness, the masculine fragrance of bergamot and sandalwood that hovered about his person. It tempted her to lean closer, the rich scent teasing her senses and producing the most peculiar yearning for additional nearness.
With him.
Juliette sucked in a sharp breath and held it. Heavens! What was happening to her? She must not have slept well or eaten enough breakfast to be having such puzzling observations. Except it wasn’t so puzzling at all. She hazarded a glance at him as he addressed the committee. A nerve ticked above his right eye. Fascinating . . . She shook her head and gave herself a mental kick. This had to stop before she descended into madness.
But focusing on what he was saying became a little bit harder when he turned his head and regarded he
r with a frown. It lasted but a second, his attention returning seamlessly to the subject at hand, but it had been long enough for her to realize he’d become aware of her perusal.
Which only increased her discomfort.
She did not want him thinking she had a romantic interest in him. He was much too severe and standoffish for her to even imagine such a scenario, even if she did find him attractive and intriguing and . . . Heat rolled across her skin as she recalled the craving he’d incited in her when his gaze had dropped to her lips the last time they’d danced. She’d instantly wondered what it might be like to feel his mouth pressed firmly against her own, the thought so acute and so startling, she’d had to grasp for something to say.
She’d settled on the subject of his education because she’d thought it was safe. Instead, he’d made her feel as though she’d ruined what had until then been a promising friendship. She could only hope that wasn’t the case so they could return to their engaging discussions.
“As you know,” he was saying, “the typhus outbreak has become increasingly serious. In my opinion, our primary concern should be avoiding an epidemic. Because once that happens, thousands could perish.”
“Are you suggesting that restricting access in and out of St. Giles won’t be enough?” the Earl of Elmwood said. A heavyset man with bushy eyebrows dipping down in serious contemplation, he was the oldest member present.
“So far, only three deaths have been reported, but as infection spreads, that number will rise. Incubation is roughly ten to fourteen days, so it could be a week before we know how many additional people have caught it.”
“But surely quarantining them in St. Giles will prevent the disease from spreading,” Lady Warwick said.
Florian nodded. “It is a start. The problem arises when the sick begin outnumbering the healthy, because once that happens people will try to flee in order to avoid infection.” He paused for a moment before saying, “We cannot allow them to do so, however. The risk is too great.”
The Illegitimate Duke Page 8