Patience’ depressed eyes sent a stab to Juliana’s heart at the greeting. Things had not worked out yet with her and Mr. Longman.
Juliana collapsed on an armchair and Patience’ eyes lit with interest. “Peter Seton is most insufferable man I have ever been acquainted with. He treats me like a child!”
“What did he do?” The tiredness in her eyes changed to concern.
Juliana straightened. “He arrived at my uncle’s today and berated me for trying to get you back together with Walter. By the way, any news?”
Patience shook her head, the light dimming from her eyes even more. “It was a rather risky thing for you to do, Juliana,” she said gently. “I would never have asked it of you.”
“But I felt so consumed with guilt,” Juliana moaned. “I had to make things right. A letter just didn’t seem enough.”
“Why did you tell Peter?”
Juliana had sworn up and down that she would not breath her indiscretion to Peter.
“It just—slipped out,” Juliana said with a sigh. “I used to tell Peter everything. He’s like an older brother to me. I—I suppose I wanted him to applaud my bravery.”
Patience raised her brows. “Brothers don’t encourage women to roam London without an escort.”
Juliana looked down at her hands. “You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“What did Peter say?” Patience asked.
The memory of Peter’s words rose in Juliana’s mind, and her blood ran hot with irritation. “He called me foolish, alluded to the idea that I needed someone to look after me. He treated me like a child, Patience. I felt so humiliated.”
Patience folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Have you looked at the situation through Peter’s eyes?”
Juliana took her eyes to the ceiling. “No. And I don’t want to.” She didn’t want Peter to be right in his chastising, but deep down she knew she was wrong.
“Well, maybe you should try,” Patience said calmly. “Peter did no wrong. He is legitimately concerned for you. Peter cares deeply about you.”
Juliana forced out a laugh. “We have been the closest of friends, but I think he overstepped today—”
“No.” Patience shook her head. “You mistake my meaning. I think—” she paused, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “I’m fairly certain that Peter Seton has a romantic attachment to you.”
Juliana stiffened, trying to force a laugh but it stuck in her throat. “You do not know Peter and I. We find joy in each other’s company simply because we grew up together. There are no romantic notions between us, of that I can assure you.”
Patience laughed outright. “Juliana, you are quite blind!”
“I refuse to acknowledge the possibility. Even if Peter did feel that way, his affections have certainly changed.”
Patience bit at her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Juliana took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden fluttering of her heart. Her throat had suddenly gone dry.
Patience took her eyes to the rug, plucking at the fuzz in her dress. “If you insist. The only reason I went along with the ruse to court Peter was because I thought it might tease out the romance between you two.”
Juliana felt her face twist in disbelief. “You thought—? Peter and I—? Patience, you have the wildest imagination.”
“Well? Does it make you the tiniest bit jealous when Peter dances solely with me? That he follows me around at every party?”
Juliana breathed heavy, internally scolding herself—her tantrums were childish, and she didn’t want to give Peter anymore notions that she was a child. “No, certainly not. Besides, I know you don’t have feelings for Peter because you are madly in love with Walter.”
Patience gave her a sly smile. “What if Peter were to make me an offer, and I did not refuse?”
Juliana paused, her heart leaping into her throat. An image of Patience and Peter holding a wedding at the parish in Newbury made her want to throw something. “Then I would be happy to have you as my nearest, dearest neighbor.” The warmth that had melded into her words came out brittle.
Patience smiled. “As you say.”
Juliana pressed her lips together. “Let us talk of something different. I grow weary of Peter. How is your needlepoint coming along?”
Patience laughed softly and Juliana felt the clutching grip around her chest loosen. Romantic feelings for Peter? Perish the thought!
Chapter Twelve
Juliana stepped in front of the looking glass, admiring her new evening gown. The soft white color set her skin aglow and the embroidered leaf pattern on the bottom made her feel she had a piece of home next to her. She loved everything about it and knew she would further dazzle suitors, leaving them yearning for her return next year. Peter might even think she looked well in it. The very thought of her friend caused her heart to ache at how they had last left things. She had felt so independent here in London, but Peter reflecting on her mistakes caused her to second guess her every move. She squashed down the thought that Peter was right before sweeping out of her room.
Her aunt was joining them for tonight’s ball, it was rumored to be the highlight of the season, the host of the evening having hired an orchestra for all the main rooms. They were to play in unison, though Juliana couldn’t see how they could keep in time. She would be listening extra carefully to see if any noticeable blunders were made.
She stepped into the carriage, anxious to see Peter again. The only way to make this right was to apologize. She understood now that she was in the wrong and felt embarrassed at the thought. He was sure to gloat. As the carriage pulled up to the house, she took in measured breaths, readying herself for the evening. She was being helped from the carriage before she was fully ready.
She spotted Patience and Peter when she walked inside the grand hall. Patience waved with a smile, and Peter stared at her with not a twitch of a smile on his lips. Juliana waved back at Patience but did not feel like conversing with Peter. She was used to his smiling eyes, but the stern look he gave her said he had not forgiven her yet.
The only thing she could do was take Peter’s advice and tame herself to better meet society’s standards.
Mr. Westcott approached her, bowing low. “You look like a dream, Miss Seton.” His eyes racked up and down her dress, clearly pleased with what he saw.
“Thank you.” Her polite smile minimized the fact that she was still torturously thinking of what Peter thought of her. “How are you this evening?” she asked absentmindedly as they greeted tonight’s hostess.
“Eager to meet you on the dance floor. I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise?” His easy smile relaxed her somewhat.
“I have not,” she said, although now she regretted it, feeling stifled in the crowded hall. She took comfort in remembering that she’d only promised a few dances.
Mr. Westcott grinned before offering his hand. “Are you ready for the dance?”
“Yes.” She followed him as he led her onto the ballroom floor.
It was a slower dance, and rather intimate. She and Mr. Westcott faced each other for most of it, allowing them to make eye contact and converse.
“Have you noticed that Miss Rebecca has switched her interests?” Mr. Westcott started the conversation with gossip.
Juliana craned her neck to see Rebecca dancing with Lord Pincock. Rebecca chatted easily and pleasantly, while Lord Pincock replied loudly. She shuddered at the thought of having to dance with the man.
For a moment, she felt for Rebecca. She doubted the girl really wanted to marry for status and money alone. It was her mother who whispered in her ear, pushing her towards men with status, no matter their compatibility.
Perhaps she had been too quick to judge Rebecca’s character.
She was suddenly glad Rebecca had backed off Peter. That part of her clever scheme had worked, at least.
“Besides money, what might Miss Rebecca see in that man,” Juliana wondered aloud.
“Does it matter? She only cares about his Title. Everyone knows her schemes.”
“Is there to be no shared affection between her and her future husband?” Juliana took her eyes back to him.
Mr. Westcott’s brown eyes locked on hers. “Is it affection that you seek, Miss Seton?”
“I have a long list of things I require in a husband,” she said with a smile, before catching Peter and Patience dancing from the corner of her eye. She swallowed. “But I would be dreaming if I could find a man who would fit half those characteristics.” Her spirits deflated at the thought.
“Name some of them,” Mr. Westcott said gently.
She studied him curiously. The tender affection in his voice caught her off guard. Mr. Westcott was always in jest. “He should make me laugh every day,” she started. “Should genuinely care about others, most especially those who cannot help themselves.”
“Like children?” Mr. Westcott asked.
“Like children,” Juliana agreed. “He should not mind my singing and playing of the pianoforte at late hours.”
Mr. Westcott laughed and she felt herself relax in his presence. “And he should love me with every fiber of his being, every tremor of his soul.” She bit her lip, knowing the conversation had gone too far. Become too intimate. She’d blathered about things she shouldn’t have, like a child.
Mr. Westcott stepped closer to her than the dance required, his soft eyes caressing her features. “I’ve had the pleasure in encouraging laughter from you at our every meeting,” he said, softer now. “I haven’t any children, but I would like several, for I am a child at heart. And—,” He deepened his gaze, moving closer still.
Juliana’s heart beat hard against her chest as she placed distance between them. “Say no more,” she said in a whisper. “The ball has only just begun and there are many other things to talk of.”
The fire dimmed in Mr. Westcott’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with his usual mirth. “As you wish.” He glanced over at Patience and Peter. “Do you suppose they are quite in love?”
Suddenly, the whole ruse seemed ridiculous. Foolhardy. The ballroom grew smaller, making it difficult to breathe. The music that never missed its rhythm, even with its competing orchestras, muddied her thoughts. “Certainly not,” she blurted, unable to stomach the idea.
The dance ended, and Mr. Westcott released her hands before another dance started.
“Is something the matter, Miss Seton?” He turned concerned eyes to Peter then back to her, as if he knew her thoughts.
She touched a hand to her cheek as she felt her flesh heat. “I think I might need some air. Excuse me.” She broke contact and he stepped them out of the dance.
As soon as they moved away from the other dancers, she pushed past couples and chatting groups, trying to breathe. Her head pounded. The idea of Peter dancing the night away with Patience agonized her, and she refused to accept why.
She found a side door and exited, pressing herself against the cool stone, absorbing the night air. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
Had Mr. Westcott almost proclaimed his love for her?
She would have refused him. Refused him and ruined the night for the both of them.
Could she marry Mr. Westcott? She liked him. But his wasn’t the face that continued to surface continually in her mind.
She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to clear her thoughts. Peter and Patience didn’t have any romantic attachments. Patience was meant for Walter. Peter was meant for—, never mind who Peter was meant for. She shouldn’t be concerned. The problem? She was! He constantly filled her thoughts. It could mean only one thing. She wasn’t prepared for her feelings because all Peter would ever see in her was a sister, who needed constant supervision. She held in a sob, as she placed a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes to block out the world. She would control her emotions and push Peter back into the place he belonged.
***
Peter’s chest constricted as he watched Juliana converse intimately with Mr. Westcott. Though he could not hear their conversation, the looks they gave, and the unacceptable closeness they shared during the dance, gave way to their feelings. The thought of Juliana becoming the wife of that man raised the hairs on the back of his neck. To think of Juliana married to another man. The things they would do—twisted his insides to pieces. He could not figure out why he even thought such things. If her father could decipher his musings, he would be banished from ever setting eyes on her again.
He turned to a staring Miss Patience as Juliana continued her dance.
“Lord Seton, do you even try to hide your affection for her?” Patience asked with a small smile.
Peter’s eyes snapped to Juliana then back to Patience. “What do you mean?”
Her smile grew broader. “I’m of the opinion that you care for Juliana very much— romantically, even.”
Peter shook his head, his eyes again searching for Juliana. She had disappeared. “Not at all. We’re like siblings. We grew up together.” He hoped he could school his feelings from Patience.
Patience raised her brows but thankfully did not press the matter.
He spotted Mr. Westcott with a drink in hand, but no Juliana. For a moment, concern took over every other emotion. She had seemed less spirited tonight, more reserved. He feared he’d had a part in that.
He spotted Juliana returning to the ballroom, standing alone and defiant, her head held high as it often was. Relief rushed through him. He reverted his attention back to Patience. “I’m sorry about Walter Longman.”
Patience looked away. “Perhaps it was not meant to be.”
Peter did not know how to respond. His eyes sought Juliana again, feeling uncomfortable with this whole situation.
Patience groaned beside him. He turned to her, alarmed. “What is it? Is something the matter?”
“You are the matter. You haven’t been able to keep your eyes off Juliana all evening.”
He sighed. “It’s because I’m concerned for her. I was rather harsh to her last time we met, and I worry it’s dampened her spirits.”
“Mr. Westcott does a good job at lifting them.” Patience eyed the man in question.
“Yes, it seems that he does.” Peter felt protectiveness mount inside his chest. “They have been at each other’s side all evening.”
“I think he might have fallen for her.”
Peter felt himself stiffen, but only slightly. “Does she return his affections?”
Her smile was sly. “It remains to be seen.”
She was taunting him. He didn’t know why, but Patience was trying to make him jealous. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You are terrible at matchmaking.”
She raised her brows, looking slightly offended. “Me? Matchmaker? Never. I am just pointing out what I can see.”
“And what do you see?”
She pressed her lips together as a new dance number began. “Let us dance.”
Peter gritted his teeth in frustration but offered his arm. They entered the ballroom floor and began the dance, which included the rotating of partners. Peter’s heart clenched when he saw Juliana down the line.
Patience didn’t make conversation, and Peter didn’t feel like initiating it. His mind was too busy formulating apologies to Juliana. He and Patience switched dance partners.
Two more switches and Juliana’s soft hands landed in his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted quickly and found to his surprise that Juliana’s words had echoed his own. He smiled, but she looked away bashfully.
“It was unwise of me to do what I did,” she said. “I am sorry I caused you some pain.”
“I am sorry my words were so harsh,” he told her gently. “I had no intention of offending you or dampening your spirits.”
Juliana smiled at him. “Friends?”
They were about to switch partners. Peter squeezed her hands, choking out the word. “Friends.”
They switched.
After the dance, Peter an
d Patience came together again. He cleared his throat. “You really think Juliana might—have a romantic interest in me?” The words sounded foreign out loud.
“You should ask her,” Patience admonished. “Do you feel for her?”
“I’ve always felt for her. It wasn’t until arriving in London that I’d ever considered those feelings to be romantic.”
Patience smiled. “Go. Talk to her. Before Mr. Westcott makes her an offer of marriage.
Peter shook his head. “I need to sort out my feelings further. This isn’t the place.”
Peter and Patience conversed with many people for the next hour. Peter began to grow weary of the party. His eyes found Juliana, who had danced nearly every dance with Mr. Westcott, they had just stepped out of a dance.
He caught her glancing his way before quickly looking away.
Somehow, this gave him courage. “Excuse me,” he said to Patience. He strode straight for Juliana, not caring that Mr. Westcott was in the middle of speaking.
“Miss Gibbon, will you reserve the next dance for me?”
She straightened, a light blush touching her cheeks. “I will.”
Mr. Westcott raised his brows. “Where is Miss Patience? Perhaps I could dance with her.”
Peter indicated the row of chairs by the fireplace, and Mr. Westcott bowed, taking his leave.
Peter and Juliana stood facing each other, silent. The music began, and the dance started. He offered her his hand.
Wordlessly, they joined the couples onto the floor. “Are you looking forward to returning to Alder Court, Peter?”
His smile broadened at her using his given name. “Yes. You were right in your letter when you said London is dirty and crowded. Besides, I worry for my mother.”
“Have you been writing to her?”
“I have. Her letters are brief. I take comfort in knowing she gets many social calls.”
A Friendly Alliance (Heirs of Berkshire, #1) Page 8