A Friendly Alliance: A Regency Romance (Heirs of Berkshire Book 1)

by Johanna Evelyn

  Juliana found she liked Mr. Westcott very much. Her only remorse was not having Peter here to see her success.

  Chapter Six

  Juliana dipped her pen in ink and scratched out the heading to her letter. She would have to get used to Peter’s formal title if she were ever going to fit in completely.

  My dearest Lord Seton, she started before staring at the blank page before her, wondering what Peter would think of all the talk about him. She had to admit she missed him, though luck had brought her a kindred spirit in Patience. It had been two weeks since first meeting her. The men weren’t what she had expected or hoped. Mr. Westcott seemed to like her, but she wasn’t sure if she’d formed a firm opinion of him yet.

  After some brief thought, Juliana put pen to parchment again.

  As much as it pains me to say this, I despise London. It is crowded and dirty. Most of the girls my age whom I imagined might become new friends, smile and simper with their mouths but their eyes shoot daggers.

  I can imagine I might have enjoyed my come out more if you had been able to follow me. Now wipe that smile off your face. Don’t suppose I want you. I just wonder if the transition would be easier if I could boast an acquaintance with “The most eligible bachelor of the season, The Earl of Alder Court.”

  Oh, Peter, you know not how often you are talked of. Everyone is speculating as to why you are not here. It is almost scandalous. Half the time I must force myself not to show my annoyance. As if the death of your father has turned you into someone new. You are not your title. You are just Peter. I cannot understand the aristocracy. It is as if everyone is in a race to secure a title or wealth or both, with no regard to compatibility or love.

  I do not know what I imagined it would be like, but not this. How can I tell if I am being courted for me? Not my dowry—Father has not stamped out my habit of showing my emotions even if he supposed he had, for I find myself annoyed at every turn. I do try to squash the emotion in public, you might be proud of me.

  Why must I be forced to marry? No that is not right. I do want to marry, it’s just that I want to—. Never mind. I am being silly. I shall try harder to find enjoyment in the process.

  I do enjoy dancing and there is one potential interest. His name is Lord James Westcott. He is the second son of the Viscount of Highfield which of course makes him slightly unworthy of the more ambitious matchmaking mommas this season. I wonder if the only reason I like him is because all the mothers are vying for The Duke of Danbury. Oh, Peter, he is so old! And he smells of candle wax. I am not lying. He does, and I am wracking my brain as to why.

  I am being silly again. I suppose that means I should let you go. Do not worry about me. I will not accept anyone unless I am fond of him at the very least.

  Yours, Juliana

  ***

  Peter read Juliana’s letter, found himself smiling, checked himself, then read it again. It was a ray of sunshine on the gloom of Alder Court. His mother grieved heavily while he had taken up his father’s affairs. He still missed him with each passing day.

  He felt useless as of late. His mother needed time and space to heal, and he found himself lonely. The souls who came to visit him were elderly men and their wives, offering their condolences and remarking on the fine weather they’d been having lately. It was hardly stimulating conversation.

  Peter leaned on his chin, scanning Juliana’s letter again. He should have guessed Juliana would hate London—she preferred running wildly around on his property and hers, riding and practicing archery, or sitting by his lake. He smiled as he thought back to her insistence that the lake belonged to her. He knew with more surety now that he managed the property, that the lake belonged to his family.

  London was crowded, indeed, and had so many formal and social conventions. No, Juliana was surely not the type to fit in with the social customs.

  Peter folded the letter and tucked it away in his desk before standing. He made his way to his mother’s painting room, where she often sat reading, painting, or crying. Often crying. To his relief, she seemed in brighter spirits today. He approached her as she dabbed paint onto a canvas, working on a sprawling landscape. Her eyes darted to him before she refocused on her work. “Hello, Peter,” she said as he moved closer, her voice was quiet, tired.

  “Mother. How are you today?” He sat beside her, focusing on her art.

  “Better. I doubt the pain will ever go away, but painting soothes me. Keeps my mind off things.” She squinted at a tree she had just added leaves to, then set down her paints, turning herself so she faced him. “How are you feeling?”

  “I miss him.” Peter’s somber tone set the mood.

  She nodded and they lapsed into silence.

  Peter cleared his throat, turning to his mother. “I’ve been reconsidering my decision in not going to London this year.”

  “Oh?” His mother picked up her paints again and mixed some yellow with green. “What has changed your mind?”

  “I don’t feel needed here.” He shifted restlessly. “I think I need a change of scenery.”

  “I agree.” His mother pressed her lips together as she painted.

  “You do?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t been enjoyable company lately. You should go to London—find a pretty girl to turn your head. A marriage might distract us both from the pain.”

  Peter grimaced. “I’m not sure I’m ready for marriage.” He hesitated before forcing his mother’s eyes to his. “Come with me to London. You can get out, take your mind off father.”

  Lady Seton sighed. “I am not ready.” The corners of her mouth tilted upward. “But you—you must go. I’ll be fine here. I have support enough for five grieving wives.”

  Peter gently took the brush from her, setting it aside. He held her hand. “Are you sure?” he asked earnestly.

  “Positive. When can you be ready to leave?”

  Peter smiled, giving in to his mother’s request. Juliana needed him more than his mother. “Tomorrow, I think.”

  ***

  Rebecca Allen snagged Juliana away while Patience chatted with a middle-aged, unmarried man about exotic fruits. She tucked Juliana’s arm against her own and wandered around the crowded ballroom, a sly smile lighting her features. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, Juliana. I wanted to introduce you to my mother. She is so eager to meet you.”

  Juliana tried to hide her surprise. “And I her,” she lied. “How is the Duke of Danbury? I’ve seen you two engaged in intimate conversation as of late.”

  Rebecca smiled, but her eyes hardened. “He is a very clever gentleman, and very rich.”

  And smells of candle wax, Juliana thought with a barely repressed smile. “Yes, seems he’s grown his fortune with each new wife he collects.” Rebecca narrowed her eyes at Juliana but turned them towards her mother. “Is your mother keen on marrying you off to him?” Juliana said, instantly cursing herself for being so insensitive.

  To her surprise, Rebecca laughed. “Yes, but we’ll see if we’re a match soon enough. Here she is.” She held her hand out, gesturing to her mother.

  Juliana had studied Lady Allen at all of London’s social events but had never spoken to her. She might have been a beautiful woman were it not for her nose that was a little too pointed. Still, her blonde hair was bundled up in an intricate coiffure and she wore an expensively fashioned gown. Her laugh was easy, her smirk just like her daughter’s. Juliana could see why she fit so well amongst society.

  “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Juliana Gibbon.”

  Lady Allen’s mirthful eyes turned to Juliana and instantly flitted up and down, taking in her dress, hair, face, bust, and sizing her up as competition.

  Juliana felt at once prideful and exposed.

  “Juliana, my mother, Lady Latisha Allen.”

  Juliana sunk into a curtsey. “A pleasure, Lady Allen.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Allen said with a sniff. “Where do you hail, Miss Gibbon?”

>   “Newbury.” Juliana straightened, remembering her worth. “My father’s estate is near Alder Court.”

  Lady Allen’s brows rose. “Oh? You are acquainted with Lord Seton, I imagine?”

  “Yes, very.” Juliana was held in higher esteem just for knowing her dear friend, but she doubted this woman standing before her would give her such credit.

  Something flickered across Lady Allen’s face—whether it was jealousy or a brief annoyance, Juliana could not tell. “It is a shame he is not with us this season,” Lady Allen quipped. “I believe he and Rebecca became the best of friends last year—isn’t that right, Rebecca?” Lady Allen turned to her daughter, giving her a telling look.

  Rebecca laughed. “Mother, I believe you’re confusing Lord Seton with—” Lady Allen gave her a harsh stare. Rebecca paused, rewording her confession. “Yes, Lord Seton and I were well acquainted.”

  “Indeed?” Juliana easily saw through the lie. “I don’t believe Lord Seton’s ever mentioned knowing a Miss Rebecca Allen.”

  “Lord Seton is a private person,” Rebecca said, plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t believe he’s mentioned a Miss Gibbon to me either. Two different worlds, Newbury and London—don’t you think, Mother?”

  Lady Allen nodded, well pleased with her daughter.

  Juliana had had enough of these games. “I will be sure to give him your regards when I return home.” She curtsied. “Excuse me.” She walked away, fury burning within her. Deplorable.

  She scanned the room, trying to find Patience in the crowd. Her eyes wandered towards the doorway, and her heart fluttered, her stomach lurching. Peter Seton stood there; his honey curls combed away from his forehead. He looked decidedly handsome in his blue coat with black velvet collar. His eyes wandered through the room before landing on her. A smile transforming his features.

  Juliana took one step towards him before Patience appeared in front of her, her brows high. “What did Rebecca want?” she asked, eager to hear the gossip.

  “To introduce me to her mother. You’re right—the two were scheming against me just because I know a man with a shiny new title. Speaking of which—”

  “I can’t stand the Allen’s,” Patience groaned, interrupting Juliana. “They’re a bad influence on my mother. She’s been pushing me at all these men whom I have no interest in whatsoever. I’ve just slipped under her grasp for now.”

  The orchestra finished their number, paused, and started up another, this one slower. Couples paired off to participate in the dance. Juliana glanced at the doorway and found Peter was no longer there. A slight panic shot through her breast.

  “Who are you looking for? Has Lord Wescott arrived yet?” Patience took her eyes around the room, searching for Mr. Westcott.

  “Miss Gibbon.” Both Juliana and Patience whirled around. Peter stood before them, a pleasant smile on his face. He bowed. “Would you care to dance?”

  Juliana wavered, surprised that Peter was actually here, in London! “Of course.” She regained her composure before taking his offered arm. She smiled widely at Patience before stepping onto the dance floor with Peter, Patience gaping after them.

  “I don’t understand,” Juliana said as they took their positions. “I thought you weren’t coming to London.”

  “I wasn’t. But I was getting depressed in that gloomy house. I thought a change of scenery might brighten my spirits.”

  “I hope you’re prepared for socializing with many women,” Juliana teased. “You’re all anyone talks about.”

  Peter laughed as they stepped around each other, then stood face to face. “How are you faring?” Slight concern flashed in his eyes.

  “Tolerable, if I ignore the fact that people are currently making a study of me.” Juliana glanced around the room. Female eyes watched her carefully, gauging how much of a threat she was against their chances at the new Lord Seton. It was laughable, really, because she posed as much threat as a protective sister.

  “How is your mother?” She turned to Peter trying to ignore the new attention.

  “Still in mourning, I’m afraid.” Peter took her hand in his to guide her down the line of dancers. “But I left with her blessing.”

  “When did you arrive in London?”

  “Just today—I received your letter,” he said slowly.

  “Oh?” Juliana smiled brightly.

  “Yes. I fear I must meet this Duke you spoke of. Danbury, was it? Perhaps I can help solve this candle wax mystery.”

  Juliana laughed. How she missed their conversations. She caught Rebecca and Lady Allen in the corner of her eye. Lady Allen’s eyes were sharp while Rebecca’s bottom lip protruded in a slight pout. She took her eyes back to Peter as the dance ended. Juliana curtsied and Peter bowed before taking her arm.

  “Would you introduce me to some of your friends?” he asked, as he walked her back to her friend.

  “Oh, you must meet Patience. She has been the single joy I’ve found in all of London.”

  They stepped towards Patience, who stood next to her mother. She patted her elbow repeatedly, encouraging Patience to meet them halfway. Patience’s lips were pressed tightly together, ignoring her mother’s gestures.

  “Patience,” Juliana called as they reached her, “This is—”

  “Lord Seton, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Patience curtsied. “You are not at all the hunchback Juliana made you out to be.”

  Peter threw a look at Juliana, who grinned widely at him. “I only meant it metaphorically. Someone had to bring these women to their senses. They talked of you as if you were an angel sent from heaven to rescue them from misfortune.” She giggled at the thought.

  “Juliana, I fear you’ve been up to no good in my absence.” Peter’s light chastisement fell on deaf ears as Juliana caught Rebecca making her way over.

  “Oh, no, here comes your greatest admirer. Quick, Peter, dance with Patience.”

  Peter glanced back, but Juliana grasped his hand and placed it in Patience’s. Peter frowned at Juliana. “You’re being childish.” He sounded irritated but dropped Patience’ hand and turned to her. “Would you do me the honor?”

  “The honor’s all mine.” Patience smiled.

  “Go, go.” Juliana impatiently shooed them into the dance.

  Patient’s mother cast her an approving smile, but Juliana turned her eyes to the couple as Peter led Patience further onto the dance floor, unaware of brushing past Rebecca. He hadn’t caught sight of her or didn’t know who she was. Either way, Patience was delighted at Rebecca’s stricken face.

  Rebecca wandered over, taking her attention to Juliana. “It seems our dear friend, Lord Seton has granted us a surprise visit.” Rebecca’s artificial smile irritated Juliana to no end.

  “It seems he has,” Juliana said with a smug grin, focusing on her friends.

  Rebecca prattled on. “He must have heard us talking about him.”

  Juliana was in no mood to be friendly with Rebecca. She spotted Mr. Westcott walking into the ballroom. “Excuse me,” she muttered and left Rebecca’s side.

  As she approached Lord Wescott, she curtsied, to which he responded with a slight bow.

  “Hope I am not too late.”

  “Not at all. Just in time, in fact. My dear friend Lord Seton has just arrived.”

  Lord Wescott ’s eyebrows rose. “Has he?”

  “Indeed. He is dancing with Patience as we speak. Rebecca Allen is eager to dance with him, look.” She indicated Rebecca, who stood on the sidelines, watching Peter and Patience dance with rising agitation.

  Lord Wescott laughed. “Lord Seton will not be able to escape the attention of every young woman here tonight.” He offered an arm to Juliana. “Would you dance with me, Miss Gibbon?”

  Juliana grinned, placing her hand resolutely into the crook of Lord Wescott ’s arm. “Absolutely.” She gave him a true smile.

  Juliana was unable to speak with Peter the rest of the evening as Lord Wescott ’s predictions had been tru
e. Rebecca did eventually persuade Peter to dance with her. But so did many other women in the room.

  Peter’s eyes often found hers, weary from all the conversation and dancing. She only smirked back and enjoyed the company of her friends. A twisted part of her delighted in his social torment. But the whole part of her was immensely grateful for his appearance in London.

  Chapter Seven

  Juliana arrived at Patience’s London townhome, only a short walk from where she was staying with her aunt and uncle. A lady servant stayed a short distance behind. Patient’s family was very well off, taking the best house in Grosvenor Square. Which was why Juliana could not think as to why they would not let their daughter marry for love.

  Patience was already at the door, donning her gloves and checking her bonnet before stepping out to meet Juliana.

  “Patience, you are ready for our walk!”

  “I could not wait to hear the gossip about your Lord Seton. We had a pleasant conversation, he talked of you often.”

  Juliana did not miss the cunning glint in Patience’ eye as they set out to walk in Hyde Park.

  “I think I counted about five men tripping over themselves to get at you the other night.” Patience chuckled. “You’ll find yourself with a rich, stuffy husband before the season ends!”

  “Pray faith!” Juliana took her eyes heavenward. “I would not dream of courting the half of them.”

  Patience raised her brows suggestively. “And what of Mr. Westcott? You two click like you’ve known each other for years.”

  It was true that Juliana had grown fond of Mr. Westcott, even if it seemed he tried a little too hard to match her wit. He was a kind gentleman and didn’t mind if she towed conventional lines at times. In fact, he seemed to enjoy her frank humor and freely given mirth.

  “Lord Wescott is a sweet soul. But I have not formed any opinions as far as courtship is concerned.” She took Patience’s arm in hers. “What about you? Peter seems to enjoy your company as much as I do.”