Juliana (10 page)

“Grandchildren are the object,” Aunt Aurelia put in. “And grandnephews and grandnieces.”

“Aha, the truth emerges,” James said dryly.

He wondered if his older brother had had to endure this sort of pressure. Probably not, else he would have taken a wife long before he passed away. Mother was a master of killing with kindness—she always got what she wanted in the end. She would get the grandchildren she wanted, too.

Eventually.

But for now, James would continue to sidestep her pointed questions, because the answers would only disappoint her. Of the handful of girls he’d danced with this night—and the dozens of girls he’d met this last year—he couldn’t imagine marrying a single one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to imagine marrying again at all.

The problem was, he’d had love and marriage once. So now one without the other—marriage without the love—just seemed plain…impossible. But a loveless marriage was the best he could do, because loving a girl who wasn’t Anne was unthinkable. Even the idea of it felt wrong, as though he was desecrating her memory.

Not that she would have objected. She was a generous and understanding person, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to be unhappy or lonely. If he’d asked her permission—which he hadn’t, of course—she would definitely have said he could fall in love with someone else after she was gone.

But that wasn’t going to happen. No matter which girls he danced with, all he could see was Anne’s pretty, loyal face shimmering before his eyes.

“I only want you to be happy,” his mother said.

“I know.” He also knew that she understood how he felt. Or at least she should. She’d also lost her life’s love, after all. “Why aren’t
you
dancing, Mother?”

“Me?”

Perhaps if he turned the tables, she’d realize she was pushing too hard. That he wasn’t ready. “Yes, you. “

Aunts Aurelia and Bedelia both tittered into their champagne.

“What?” he said, turning to challenge them. “Father has been gone longer than Anne. And
your
husbands have been gone even longer. All three of you should be dancing.”

The sisters exchanged startled glances. “We’re too old,” Aunt Aurelia said for all of them.

“Nonsense.” His aunts were not yet sixty, and his mother was only fifty-two. He put down his champagne, then took their three glasses and set them down, too. “Come along,” he said, taking Mother’s elbow and trusting her sisters to follow.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To the ballroom, of course.” He grinned at her obvious dismay. “You’re not going to find a new husband while standing around the refreshment table.”

WHILE AMANDA
was off dancing with her fourth or fifth potential suitor, and Juliana was inviting—well, perhaps begging—Rachael’s two sisters to attend her little sewing party tomorrow, Griffin brought a strange man to meet her.

Not that he was actually
strange
. But he was definitely a stranger. Which Juliana found intriguing, because, honestly, she’d thought she’d already met every eligible young man who’d bothered to come to town this season.

“My sister,” Griffin said by way of introduction. “Lady Juliana.”

The man was handsome, fair-haired, and not too tall. Juliana smiled and curtsied.

“Juliana, I’d be pleased for you to meet the Duke of Castleton.”

A duke! Handsome, fair-haired, not too tall,
and
a duke! Juliana’s heart fluttered with excitement as the duke bowed over her hand. “Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Juliana?”

“It would be my pleasure,” she said and let him lead her onto the floor.

The duke’s dress and bearing were both impeccable, and he proved to be an excellent dancer. “Where have you been all season?” she asked.

“Abroad, seeing to some of my interests now that the war with France has come to an end.”

“Ah.” Though he wasn’t holding her very closely, she could smell his costly eau de cologne. “All your many interests keep you busy, then?”

“Not usually.” He had calm, pale blue eyes. “It’s been years since I’ve been overseas. I much prefer to stay here in town and fill my life with amusements.”

No profession, nothing to keep him from spending lots of time with her. His blond hair was neatly groomed—unlike tousled Lord Stafford, he obviously had time to tend to it. He was sounding better and better.

Perfect, as a matter of fact.

“I adore being amused,” she told him and gave him
the look
.

Unfortunately, he didn’t fall at her feet. In fact, he appeared rather taken aback, until he quickly schooled his face back into a neutral expression. “It was cold on the Continent,” he said as though nothing had happened.

So he was proper and reserved. She could admire that. He was sure to be the very soul of gentlemanly behavior. ”As cold as it’s been here?”

“Not quite. And certainly not as rainy.”

“It
snowed
this month. In June!”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, amazing.”

They both fell silent.

Juliana could admit: scintillating conversation, it was not. But then, they didn’t know each other yet. There would be plenty of time later to speak of deeper things.

When the dance ended, the duke quite properly delivered her back to her brother.

“Well?” Griffin asked after the young man had bowed and walked away. “I suppose you want me to keep looking?”

“To the contrary,” she said. “I expect it’s likely no more introductions will be necessary. How old is the duke? Do you know?” He didn’t
look
terribly old, but most of the dukes she knew were downright ancient.

“You’re not dismissing him out of hand?” Griffin looked vastly surprised—and pleased, not to mention relieved. “I believe he’s twenty-eight.”

While she’d prefer someone a bit closer to her own age, twenty-eight wasn’t
so
very old. After all, she was a quite mature seventeen, wasn’t she? “You didn’t mention his given name.”

“It’s David. His family name is Harcourt.”

Harcourt—an elegant surname for her children. And his title, Castleton, sounded rather romantic, did it not? And he was a
duke
.

Could he
be
more perfect?

A deep voice interrupted her musings. “Good evening, Lady Juliana.”

She glanced up to see Lord Stafford. Way up. ”Good evening.”

“Cainewood,” he said, addressing her brother, “you wouldn’t happen to know any aging widowers, would you?”

The odd question drew a bark of laughter from Griffin. ”Looking for more patients, Stafford? Old ones, with many ailments?”

“No.” He gestured toward three mature women standing in a tight cluster. Was it Juliana’s imagination, or did they look a bit petrified? “I’m looking for dance partners for my mother and her sisters, Lady Avonleigh and Lady Balmforth.”

“Dance partners?” Juliana asked, her interest piqued. “Or possible suitors?”

“My sister fancies herself a matchmaker,” Griffin explained.

“I do not,” she retorted. “I just like helping people find happiness.”

“A noble pursuit,” Lord Stafford said grandly. “However, I’m
not
looking for suitors. Dance partners will do.”

Lord Malmsey came to mind, but although he was too old for Amanda, he was too young for Lord Stafford’s mother. And besides, she’d already decided he belonged with Aunt Frances.

“May I borrow your quizzing glass?” she asked.

Instead of taking it off, Lord Stafford handed it to her with the long chain still around his neck. She leaned closer to raise it to her left eye. He smelled not of costly eau de cologne but of soap and something vaguely spicy.

A quick scan of the room through the quizzing glass revealed several likely dance partners for his relations, and she wasted no time corralling and introducing them to the three women. Not five minutes later, she stood hip to hip with Lord Stafford, the two of them watching his mother and aunts perform a quadrille.

Or at least they would have been hip to hip had he not been so overly tall.

“That,” Lord Stafford said, looking a little stunned, “was remarkable.”

Juliana shrugged, much the same as he had when she’d remarked that he’d saved Lord Neville’s life. “I’m good at what I do.”

“You certainly are.” The musicians finished the quadrille and struck up a lilting waltz. “May I have this dance?” he suddenly asked.

Although she would rather have danced again with the duke, it wouldn’t be seemly to refuse. So she said, “It would be my pleasure.”

As he spun her around the floor, a flutter sprung up in her middle. That had nothing to do with Lord Stafford, of course—she was simply dizzy from the dance and from the evening’s happy successes. She’d found the duke, and Amanda had her pick of young suitors, and Lord Malmsey was going to fall head over heels for Aunt Frances. She might even be able to match Lord Stafford’s mother and aunts with eligible widowers this season, no matter that he only meant for them to dance. All of her projects were beginning to come together.

She glanced up to find Lord Stafford staring at her again, like he had the first time they’d danced. And again she found it unnerving. He seemed a very intense young man. Much too intense for high-spirited Juliana, but perhaps he’d make a good match for Amanda, who was a serious sort of girl. In fact, they might just be ideally suited! He was a doctor, after all, and Amanda had quite competently tended Emily’s wound. She would make an excellent doctor’s wife. And Amanda was tall, so the two of them would look wonderful together.

And meanwhile, she, Juliana, would be a duchess! She could already picture herself walking down the aisle with the duke.

But now wasn’t the time for daydreams—it was the time for making polite chitchat with one’s dance partner. So she forced herself to meet Lord Stafford’s intense gaze with a gracious, not-at-all-unnerved smile. “I missed you at Almack’s last Wednesday.”

His raised an eyebrow. “You missed me?”

She hadn’t meant it like that. “You weren’t there. Do you not like Almack’s?”

James abhorred the very idea of the place—it was little more than a hunting ground for young girls and their scheming mamas to ensnare eligible bachelors. But he wouldn’t say that to Juliana. “My mother obtained a voucher for me,” he said instead, which was entirely true, “but there was trouble at the Institute that night, so I was unable to attend.”

That was likewise entirely true. Although another truth was that he’d have found a different excuse if that one hadn’t presented itself.

“How unfortunate,” she said. “I hope the trouble wasn’t too dreadful.”

“A shortage of staff. I had to fill in myself, as well as interview new candidates.”

“What sort of staff were you looking for? Did you find anyone?”

Given her talent for matching people, he wouldn’t be surprised if she offered to find someone for him. “I needed an assistant. To coordinate supplies and greet patients. And yes, I found someone. I wouldn’t be here tonight if I hadn’t.”

Her blue-green eyes narrowed. “You would work on a Saturday evening?”

“I work often on Saturday evenings. Many patients who are working people cannot visit during normal working hours. When I’m in town, New Hope is open from ten o’clock in the morning until ten o’clock at night, every day except Sunday.”

Most shops kept the same hours, so he wondered why she looked so disapproving. And he wished she didn’t. Because the more he saw of her, the more he liked her. She was so full of good intentions and liveliness. Liveliness that suddenly seemed missing from his life.

All at once, he realized that Anne’s face wasn’t shimmering before his eyes. In fact, he hadn’t thought about Anne at all while dancing with Juliana. Not for the barest moment. Probably because the two of them couldn’t be more different—where Anne had been tall, brunette, and restrained, Juliana was small, blond, and spritely. Marriage to her would never be boring.

But it wouldn’t be love.

And it wouldn’t be right for James. Juliana was quite appealing, and certainly “good at what she did.” She would make a fun, charming wife—for someone else. Someone who had time for such frivolity. He didn’t; not if he hoped to accomplish his goals.

But as long as he was stuck at this ball, he might as well enjoy her company. He liked the way she danced on tiptoe, as if she had so much energy she could scarcely keep her feet fastened to the floor. Or perhaps she was merely reaching as high as she could because he was so much taller. From his height, he could look down at the top of her blond head, which gleamed beneath the chandeliers. Her hair was an intriguing mix of pale gold and light brown and every shade in between. And when she looked up, those blue-green-hazel eyes…he couldn’t quit gazing into them, trying to figure out what color they were.

As the dance came to an end, she said, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

He didn’t want to meet anyone. He wanted to go home to Stafford House. Without his mother. Maybe she’d sleep at her sisters’ town house tonight, the three of them giggling like young girls discussing their latest conquests. A fellow could hope.