The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (11 page)

“How delicately put! What you really mean to say is you are glad you got away before Mr. Gordon attempts to tread on your toes again.”

“I confess you are right, and my shoes bear the evidence.” She grimaced as she raised the hem of her gown an inch or two to reveal the smudges on her pale blue dancing slippers.

“At least there is Mr. Dillingham to dance with. The two of you are very graceful together.”

“Thank you. He is a very accomplished dancer. Mr. Gordon aside, I am having a lovely time.”

Caro sighed and peeped around the fern before replying to her cousin. “It is a lovely evening—I will give my mother-in-law that much credit.”

“As much as it pains you to say so,” Julia said with gentle humor.

The younger woman made a face in response. Julia thought the pouting expression was in stark contrast with the sophisticated façade Caro usually presented.

Adjusting her oyster-shell silk shawl, Caroline sniffed. “Well, I certainly am not so churlish that I will not give credit where it is due.”

Julia glanced through the gauzy leaves of the fern, her eyes chancing upon the dowager Lady Farren holding court on the other side of the room.

Julia had noticed before that the dowager liked to think of herself as up to every rig and went to great pains to be considered in the latest mode. But Julia thought the multitude of peacock feathers erupting from the bright green turban the lady wore looked quite comical.

Since the start of the evening, she had also noticed that whenever her son strayed too far from her side, his mama called him back on the pretext of needing his opinion or some other transparent nonsense.

Caro had been subtly punishing her husband by staying as far from the dowager as possible, thereby forcing Lord Farren to trot from one end of the salon to the other whenever his mama beckoned him from his wife’s side.

It would all have been rather amusing if Julia were not completely aware of how upset Caro really was.

Lord Farren, poor fellow, seemed flustered. When he was at his mama’s side, he could barely take his eyes from his wife, and frowned fiercely as she laughed with her circle of friends.

Conversely, when he was with Caro, he continually glanced nervously in his mother’s direction.

Julia almost felt sorry for him.

“I half expected to see the Duke of Kelbourne tonight,” Caro stated.

“Good gracious! Why ruin a perfectly wonderful evening by mentioning that man? I am prodigiously pleased that I have not laid eyes upon him since tea here. I hope he has taken himself off to London—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

“It’s possible. But I know my mother-in-law invited the Kelbournes.”

“‘Tis almost midnight, so I believe we have been spared his detestable company,” Julia stated with satisfaction.

“I confess I found his grandmother quite daunting, but his sister was charming. The duke certainly seems to treat them with great solicitude.”

Julia gave a little shrug in response. Truth be told, as much as she loved her cousin, Julia was hurt by her couched defense of the duke. After all, Caro knew better than anyone what the duke’s so-called lark cost her. It was above annoying to see how she followed her husband and mother-in-law in gushing over the duke—albeit not as obviously.

“When I think of how he smirked at me during tea, I still seethe. He must have won a large wager to still gloat over that kiss—such arrogant condescension is not to be born.”

Tilting her head to the side, Caro hesitantly cleared her throat.

“You have enough reason to dislike the duke, Julia, but I did not think he smirked at you. I thought he was trying to give you a reassuring smile. As if to let you know that he would never bring up the circumstances of your first meeting.”

Julia gazed at her cousin in hurt surprise. “I own I am very sensitive regarding the duke. But have you forgotten what happened last year? To this day, people in my village think that I must have done something scandalous to be sent home from London. I never attended a ball, or the theater. You said yourself that I was the subject of gossip after I left. Good heavens, men made wagers about me!”

The expression on her cousin’s face changed completely as Caro reached over and gripped her arm. “Julia, I am horrible! I have forgotten how awful it must have been for you! Forgive me, I have been
insensitive and churlish. It is just so easy to be lulled by his charm. Don’t you think he is terribly dashing?”

“Not in the least—but let us not waste one more moment discussing him. I shall hate him even more if he causes any awkwardness between us.”

“Oh, my dear, that can never happen.” Caro gave Julia’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

In companionable silence, they watched the other guests from the relative privacy behind the pedestal. Dismissing thoughts of the hated duke, Julia took a moment to ponder the letter she had received earlier that day from Mariah Thorncroft. The missive had stated that Mariah and her mother would be coming to Bath in the next day or two.

Before receiving this news, Julia had almost decided to return home, despite Caro’s protests, but now she knew she must stay for Mariah’s sake. Besides, she had not seen the duke for days. Hopefully, the rest of her stay in Bath would be peaceful.

Catching sight of Lord Farren looking around the room, Julia turned to Caro. “I believe your husband is seeking your company.”

Caro sniffed. “Ah, his mama must be quite diverted to let him get away.”

“Oh, Caro, I hate to see you so upset.”

“Not to worry, I am not as upset as I seem to be. I have come to realize that Clive will eventually have to choose his mother or me. It is that simple. I have ceased to harangue him or pout. When he runs off to her side, I endeavor to enjoy myself anyway.”

“I believe you are wise in this plan. His attention seems to be on you even when he is at his mama’s side,” Julia said, trying to be encouraging.

Caro’s face brightened. “Oh, do you think so?” she questioned, peeping around the fern.

As they stepped out from their hiding place, Julia put her arm through Caro’s and drew her back to the main part of the room.

When Lord Farren saw them, he smiled and hurried forward. “There you are, Caro. Julia, I know you will forgive me if I take your cousin from you. My mother has given permission for a waltz to be played, and I wish to claim my wife’s hand.”

Caro beamed up at her husband, and Julia again thought that Caro was showing great wisdom in her handling of this difficult situation.

With deliberate ceremony, Lord Farren led his beautiful wife to the floor. Julia noticed that there were only four other couples with the pluck to join Lord and Lady Farren in performing the daring dance.

Glancing around at the other guests watching from the edges of the floor, Julia noticed the number of older people looking on disapprovingly.

Lud, Bath really could be stuffy.
At the assembly balls back home, couples waltzed with nary an eyebrow raised by even the most straitlaced. Undaunted, Caro and Clive took their places as the lilting strains of the waltz began.

A smile came to Julia’s lips when she saw the older couple she had been admiring all evening performing the steps with smooth grace.

“What a lovely sight you present, Miss Allard, framed by the flowers and candles—like a goddess in her bower.”

Julia turned to see Mr. Dillingham standing next to her. Admiring his attractive dimples, she paused to assess her heartbeat, just in case. It would have been nice to fall in love with so amiable a man.

“You catch me at a loss for words, Mr. Dillingham—so I shall only say thank you for your kind flattery.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Mr. Dillingham gave her a mock look of pain. “You wound me, Miss Allard, my words are a true expression of my feelings! And you call it mere flattery—I thought it was closer to poetry.”

“I sincerely apologize, sir, for not properly appreciating your poetry,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

The smile on Mr. Dillingham’s face stilled as his eyes swept over her features.

“You really are the loveliest young lady I have ever seen.”

Julia suddenly felt shy at the serious tone in his soft voice, and was at a loss as to how to reply.

As if he sensed the change in her mood, his voice changed back to a lighter tone as he asked her if she waltzed.

“Yes, I do.”

“Mayhap in the future you will honor me with a waltz.”

Julia smiled but made no response and continued to watch the dancers.

Though Mr. Dillingham stayed by her side, he said little else.

This was a familiar scene, Julia thought with a mental sigh. Here they were at the beginning of a perfectly fine conversation, and he had to go and make it awkward by becoming too serious. Why did gentlemen do that? Continuing their banter would have been much more fun. She hoped he was not developing a
tendre
for her. It would be too bad to have to start avoiding him—he was such a good dancer.

At that moment their hostess approached, and Julia thought her green turban and tight aubergine-colored gown made her look rather like an eggplant.

“La, Miss Allard, does not my son dance beautifully?”
Her high, breathless voice seemed at odds with her plump, matronly figure.

“Indeed he does, my lady.”

“Yes, he takes after me. I would have thought that he would partner me for the first waltz—he is usually the most considerate son.”

Out of sheer loyalty to Caro, Julia could not let this pass and looked down at the matron with a raised brow. “Well, my lady, I think it is most appropriate for Lord Farren to waltz with his new wife,” she stated, trying to keep the edge of anger from her voice.

The lady’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and she sputtered in her attempt to respond.

Julia tensed, ready to continue her defense of Caro. Suddenly the dowager’s mouth closed, and her eyes lit up as she espied something over Julia’s shoulder.

“Bless me! The Duke of Kelbourne has decided to grace my little ball!”

Julia’s heart sank to her slippers as she whipped her head around to see the duke. He was standing in the frame of the open double doors, gazing around the room with that bored yet somehow assessing expression.

At his right was his sister, her gleaming golden gown showing to great advantage against her brother’s black coat.

The waltz was ending, and Julia watched as Lady Farren hurried across the floor, waving her handkerchief at the newcomers.

Caro and Clive left the floor and came to join Julia and Mr. Dillingham. There was no mistaking the concern in Caro’s eyes as they met Julia’s startled gray gaze.

“Well, we are certainly in rare company,” Mr. Dillingham said, his eyes on the duke.

“Yes, we are certainly honored to have the duke
and Lady Fallbrook at our ball—though it is a bit late,” Clive added.

“Not in London,” Caro could not resist pointing out. “When we were in Town, the best parties seldom started before midnight.”

They watched as Clive’s mother presented a few people to the duke and his sister. A moment later Mr. Dillingham bowed and took himself off.

“Oh, Julia, are you all right?” Caro asked as soon as Mr. Dillingham was out of earshot.

Clive leaned his slim frame forward to look at Julia with concern. “Why should she not be?”

“Never mind, Clive. Julia?”

“I am perfectly well. I am sure Lady Farren wishes you to make welcome her new guests. I shall be fine here.” She forced her voice to a lightness she did not feel.

Caro looked back with obvious concern as her husband drew her away.

Lifting the hem of her lavender-blue gown, Julia moved through the other guests to a less conspicuous part of the room. Keeping her eye on the duke was easy; he was at least a head taller than any other man present. Her eyes slightly narrowed, she followed the duke’s broad-shouldered frame as he made his way across the room.

Turning her head slightly, Julia watched a smiling Mr. Dillingham approach Lady Fallbrook. After a moment Julia’s eyes moved back to the duke, who was now conversing with an older gentleman.

She had to own that though he was not handsome in the traditional sense, he was striking. She could acknowledge this without diluting her hatred of him. Inexplicably, the fact that he was so attractive made her loathing that much more intense.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, she wished that there were a way she could make him
pay for that kiss. His
lark
, she seethed. She wanted him to know what he had done to her, the trouble he had caused her. But how? Her brow creased in contemplation. He was a powerful man; there was nothing someone like her could do to wipe that arrogant look off his face. How could he, who cared not that the world knew him to be an unmitigated rakehell, understand what it was like for a woman to be at risk of losing her good name—through no fault of her own.

Nothing could hurt a man like him, she thought, gripping her fan in impotent rage.

Her anger simmering, she watched him for a few minutes longer. As his teeth flashed in laughter at something the older gentleman said, her heart jumped at a sudden thought.

Gripping her sandalwood fan tighter, she allowed the unprecedented, extraordinary thought to stay a moment.

The notion was so daring, so out of character, that she tried to dismiss it.

Flipping open her fan, she used it vigorously to cool her flushed cheeks. Her angry, troubled eyes returned to the duke. The extraordinary idea would not leave.

A thrill of daring and danger raced across her body, raising gooseflesh down her spine. She tried to consider the ramifications of carrying out this hazy and hurriedly designed plan.

Without vanity, she knew most people of her acquaintance considered her pretty. By the very fact that the duke had used her to keep his ridiculous vow, he must have thought so, too.

With her heart racing and the heady scent of the flowers and candles assailing her overwrought senses, Julia came to a decision.

Maybe, just maybe, if she were bold enough and
applied some of Caro’s advice on flirting—and if there were any fairness at all in the world—she could pull it off.