Juliana (44 page)

She blinked. “How did they get here?”

“Aunt Aurelia gave me the idea. She came into the institute today, telling such stories. Poor Lady Juliana is sewing her fingers to the bone, dear Lady Juliana will never finish in time.” He shrugged. “So I called in a favor.”

“A favor?”

He nodded. “Before you summoned me to Emily’s house. The girls were quite happy to oblige.”

“Faith.” Her eyes shone with disbelief and gratitude and something else that was even better. “Have I told you I love you?” she whispered through an obviously tight throat.

He squeezed her hand. “Yes, but do feel free to tell me again.”

“I love you.” She bit her lip. “And thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She squeezed his hand back. “I must go help them now, but—”

“No. Oh, no. You’re much too exhausted, and we have much more important things to do.”

“James—”

“Go inside if you must, tell them Emily is all right and you’ve been invited to Stafford House for dinner.”

“Aunt Frances might be oblivious, but she’s not stupid. She knows your mother is too ill to host a dinner party.”

“
I’m
hosting you. We’ll go to my house for dinner as soon as we’ve talked to Castleton. Your aunt is needed here to supervise, and this is no time to fret about proprieties, Juliana. I’m starved.”

He dropped a soft kiss on her lips and sent her on her way. It started raining while he waited impatiently on the doorstep.

Everything was still up in the air.

When she came back out, they dashed to his carriage together.

“They’ve made twenty-one items of baby clothes already,” she reported. “With only twelve to go, they really don’t need me.” Being Juliana, of course she already had a plan. “The House of Lords is in session. You’ll have to go in alone to fetch the duke, but then you should bring him out to the carriage so we can talk to him together.”

James sent an outrider to Stafford House to get his cook started on dinner, and told his driver to head for Parliament.

Unfortunately, Castleton wasn’t at Parliament.

He wasn’t at his Grosvenor Square town house.

And he wasn’t at White’s, which was the final place Juliana could think to check.

It was rather annoying. Just now—when all their futures were at stake—
now
the duke had decided to be unpredictable?

They left notes at the last two locations, explaining all they’d learned and requesting that Castleton notify them of his intentions as soon as possible. Then they went to Stafford House to wait, because there was nothing else they could do.

Dinner was ready when they arrived, and the table was set for two, one plate at either end of the oval table that seated six. “I’m not hungry,” Juliana said.

“You’re worn out. We both are. We should try to eat at least a little.”

He moved the dishes at the far end to the spot around the curve from his. And then they sat. Because there was nothing else to do.

James wasn’t hungry anymore, either. He’d lost his appetite. Everything was
still
so up in the air. They both picked at their food, alternating between silence and spurts of forced conversation through three courses.

There was nothing else to do.

“Maybe we should go look for the duke again,” Juliana suggested when they finished an hour later and James was pouring port.

He set down the bottle and handed her a glass. “Where?” he asked, taking a rather large swallow from his own glass.

“I’m not sure. But there’s nothing else to do.” She looked at the glass in her hand. “I’ve never had port.”

“It’s strong but sweet,” he said. “Try it.”

She took a tiny sip and then another one, hoping it might steady her a little. “I like it.”

Just then, a red-liveried footman walked in. “My lord.” He set a letter on the corner of the table, gave a smart bow, and left.

It was a single sheet of heavy, cream-colored paper, folded in thirds and secured with a large red seal. James and Juliana stared at it for a moment, as though they were both afraid to touch it.

“The stationery is from White’s,” he finally said, pushing it toward her.

“It’s from the duke.” Her hand shook as she lifted it. “It has to be.”

“Open it.”

She turned it over, her eyes green and apprehensive. “It’s addressed to you.”

Obviously she felt it was his right to read it first, but James suspected she’d snatch it from his hands if he tried. “Open it,” he repeated.

She nodded and broke the seal, slowly unfolding the single page. Before she even finished scanning it, she let out a little shriek and launched herself onto his lap, the letter landing on the floor as she wrapped her arms around him and held tight.

So tight he could barely breathe. “What does it say?” he choked out, unsure whether she was crying from happiness or despair. Her only answer was a sob. He leaned awkwardly with her attached to him and picked up the letter. He turned it over, anxiety impaling his chest.

Lord Stafford,

I wish to wed Lady Amanda Wolverston with or without her dowry. No horse will be necessary, either. I would appreciate the assistance of yourself and Lady Juliana in explaining the matter, which I expect Lady Amanda will wish to verify with Lord Neville. To that end, I shall present myself at Cainewood’s home at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, unless I hear from you otherwise.

Yours sincerely,
Castleton

The pain in James’s chest eased as he dragged in two lungsful of the most delicious air he’d ever breathed.

Perhaps Castleton wasn’t such a turd, after all.

Everything was going to work out.

It was a blasted miracle.

“No horse.” Juliana sniffled into his shoulder. “He said that once before. What on earth could he possibly mean?”

He supposed it couldn’t hurt to tell her now. “Your brother promised the duke a horse named Velocity as part of your dowry if he’d marry you.”

She raised her head. “You’ve got to be jesting. A
horse
?”

James shrugged. ”I believe Griffin was rather foxed when he made the offer.”

“That idiot.”

“Griffin? Or the horse?”

“Griffin, of course. Velocity is a very intelligent horse.”

He laughed and kissed her. “Do you expect
I
will get Velocity when I marry you?”

“It would serve Griffin right if you insist on it. Although I didn’t realize you cared for racehorses.”

“I don’t, particularly. But the sale of such a fine animal would pay for a lot of vaccinations. I expect Castleton would bid mightily—what?” Juliana had pulled back enough to stare at him, tears streaming down her cheeks again. “What could be wrong now?”

“Was that a proposal?”

He blinked. “I suppose so. But it wasn’t a very good one, was it?” He rose and set her on the chair, then dropped to one knee. “Ouch.”

“Try your good knee,” she said with a watery laugh.

He did. Carefully. And then he took both her hands in his. “Juliana, my love…would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!” She launched herself at him again, with such force he fell back onto the floor, which, thankfully, was carpeted, since he banged his head so hard he saw stars. “I’m sorry,” she said, crawling over him. “Are you hurt?”

“Not in the least.” His head ached like the dickens, but he didn’t care. “Are you?”

“No. I know you hate it when ladies cry, but I can’t seem to stop.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her, “as long as you’re crying from happiness.” Watching a fat drop fall from her chin to his neckcloth, he added, “You
are
happy?”

“Oh, yes!“ she bawled and leaned down to kiss him.

It was a very wet kiss.

“Lord Stafford? Is everything all right?”

Juliana jumped up, and James turned his head to the side to see his housekeeper standing over him. “Ah…very much so, Mrs. Hampton.” He pushed himself to sit and ran a hand through his hair. “We were just, um, going upstairs. Yes. We’re going to drink our port in the Painted Room.”

“Very well, my lord. Shall I have something brought to you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Scrambling to his feet, he collected both their glasses. “We’ll just go up now.”

“Should you need anything, do let me know,” Mrs. Hampton said. And just stood there. Staring.

“Of course. We’re going up now.” Handing Juliana a glass, he gestured with the other in a way he hoped looked suave and dignified. “Shall we?”

AT THE TOP
of the elegant staircase, James didn’t walk Juliana through the library and into the gorgeous room with the lion head chairs. Instead, he took her the opposite direction.

“Um, James? Isn’t the Painted Room the one with all the marriage scenes? The one where I gave you the Richmond Maids of Honour and…”

She trailed off, thinking it might not be the best idea to remind him why she’d come that day: to apologize for tricking him. Because she’d wanted him to marry her friend, and she hadn’t known he’d lost his wife and child. Her face heated just thinking about that day and the events that had led to her apology. How dreadfully naive and foolish she’d been!

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice the awkward pause. ”I thought I’d show you another room—mine, to be precise—though it will be
ours
very soon,” he said all in a rush.

She slanted him a curious glance. Was it her imagination, or did he sound a bit nervous?

He stopped by an open door. “Close your eyes,” he said, “and wait here.”

The room beyond was so dark she couldn’t see anything anyway. “Why do I have to close my eyes?”

“Just do it,” he said. “Humor me, please.”

So she did. She closed her eyes and waited, holding her glass of port. She heard some rustling, a dull thud, and finally a whoosh that she guessed was a fire coming to life. And then she waited a little longer, listening to him walk around, doing who knew what, until finally he came back to her and placed a quick kiss on her lips, making her smile. ”All right,” he said, “You can open your eyes.”

So she did. He was so tall he blocked her entire view. “I cannot see past you.”

Appearing to be holding his breath, he nodded and stepped aside. “What do you think?”

Beyond him, the room now glistened with light. On the tables, atop a bureau, on the nightstands, candles flickered. At least a dozen, or maybe more.

“It’s splendid,” she breathed. His bedroom looked nothing like the rest of the house; there was nary a hint of gilt and nothing ancient or ornamental. The furniture was all matched, modern Hepplewhite, the height of fashion, carved of light satinwood in lines that were gracefully curved and distinctive. The red and yellow fabrics looked silky and sumptuous. Even the walls were covered with silk, wide stripes above fresh, enameled white wainscoting. Arranged before a white-manteled fireplace—the fireplace he’d lit on this cold, rainy night—sat a love seat and two plush chairs, upholstered with narrower stripes.

And then there was the bed. Covered in solid red damask and heaped with plump yellow pillows, it had slender, towering posts and positively dominated the room.

“It’s the most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever seen.”

Releasing his breath, he bent to press a warm kiss to the top of her head, a kiss so adoring it made her sigh. “I’m so glad you like it.”

She turned and gazed up at him. “Everything looks brand-new.”

“It is. I had it redecorated especially for you. For us. My favorite color is red, and you do like yellow, don’t you?”

Her free hand smoothed her yellow skirts. “It’s my favorite color,” she said slowly, and took a sip of port to cover her confusion. “But how…I mean…faith, however did you redecorate it so
fast
?”

“I’ve known for weeks that I wanted to marry you.” His low, chocolatey voice seemed to vibrate right through her. “I’m only sorry it took me so long to tell you. We could have avoided so much agony.”

Oh, drat. Tears were springing to her eyes yet again. Honestly, she was turning into a veritable waterworks. “I should have realized,” she admitted, swallowing a lump in her throat. “But I was so sure you’d never love me. I was so set on marrying the duke and having you marry Amanda to save her from Lord Malmsey.”

“We both made mistakes, love. But everything’s going to be fixed now.”

Yes, they’d both made mistakes. She wasn’t perfect; nobody was. She was human like everyone else, and the past few weeks had proved it.

It was disappointing in a way, but in another way she knew it had always been inevitable. And she was so, so thankful that everything was being put to rights. “I don’t think I’ve ever, ever been so happy.” Her heart was swelling so much she feared it might burst. “I can hardly wait to share this room with you.”

He pulled her close and cupped her chin in his free hand. And then he kissed her. Her senses spun, and it definitely wasn’t from the wine.

He drew away, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “Come explore your new bedroom, then. Mrs. Hampton won’t interrupt us here.” He grabbed her free hand and began pulling her across the threshold.

“What?” He couldn’t mean to share the room with her
now
! “Forget Mrs. Hampton—your mother is in the house!”