Once inside, Juliana peeked up the staircase in the grand entryway. It was more crowded than she expected as people milled about.
“This way.” Peter gestured up the staircase, but before they could take a step, a voice echoed through the entryway.
“Lord Seton, what brings you here with such lovely companions?”
The Duke of Danbury, Silas Pincock, sauntered up to the group, his eyes sliding towards Juliana. She shifted at his stare. He’d taken recent notice of her and she despised being in his presence, no matter how much money he’d acquired.
Peter bowed slightly. “Just giving the girls a tour. They had a mind to see where the wheels of progress conduct its mighty business.”
“I have it in mind to join you. With two stunning young ladies, how can I resist?” He leaned forward, his voice booming loudly through the building. “You may have acquired some wealth, young Lord Seton, but you can’t keep both women to yourself!”
No one laughed at his joke, but Peter allowed a smile to humor him. Juliana thought Peter was too kind to this odious man. “Of course not.” Peter wrapped an arm around Patience’s waist. “Miss Hawthorne and I have recently begun courting.”
Lord Pincock narrowed his eyes at them with a smile. A moment later, Patience gasped, drawing away from Peter. Juliana looked in alarm in the direction Patience was staring.
A young man in barrister robes had halted in the hall, eyes on Patience, his mouth parted in surprise. His brown eyes darted to Peter, then back at Patience with betrayal lurking behind them. Without a word, he stalked past them, exiting the building.
Patience’s face flushed pink. “Wait—” she murmured. “Walter, wait!”
Peter grasped her arm before she could flee after him, his countenance remorseful.
Juliana’s spirits plummeted as her brain flipped through their options. She had to set this right. It was her fault they were in this predicament. She must tell Walter that what he’d seen had been a lie. She darted forward, but Peter’s voice halted her. “Miss Gibbon, it would be unwise to enter London’s streets unescorted.”
She turned to him, her heart hammering, her throat dry. Peter’s frown deepened, giving her a warning look. He stood rigidly beside Patience, as if ashamed to be near her. Patience’s eyes were wide, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“I sense something amiss,” Lord Pincock said loudly, looking around the room. “What seems to be the matter with your party, Lord Seton?”
“It has been a long day. I believe we will take our leave. Good day, Lord Pincock. I must get my charges home.” Peter took Patience’s arm, guiding her out of the building they had just entered. Juliana stood resolute, trying to decide whether or not she would fight Peter’s decision. Lord Pincock decided for her. His gleaming eyes took in the length of her body, causing her to rush to catch up with her escort.
As Peter led them outside, Juliana scanned the streets for Mr. Longman, but it seemed he had disappeared.
“What he must think of me?” Patience wailed, turning her attention to Juliana in distress.
“You can send him a letter explaining the situation.” Peter turned to Patience. “This is only a slight hiccup. I am sorry I fell for Juliana’s scheme. I knew it was a bad idea in the first place.
“Did you see the look he gave me?” Patience looked at Peter, not satisfied with his answer. “I don’t believe he’ll ever forgive me. I’ve lost him forever.”
Juliana’s heart plummeted. She’d lost Peters confidence and injured her friend in the process. She patted Patience’s arm, vowing inwardly to set things right. “Hush now, you have not lost him. We will get you back together with your barrister before the season’s up. Isn’t that right, Lord Seton?” Juliana took her eyes to Peter, willing him to help her this one last time.
Peter cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Miss Seton, it is not my place to interfere with the Hawthorne’s wishes.”
Juliana’s mouth dropped. “Peter—” she started, forgetting to use his formal name.
Patience set a hand on Juliana’s arm. “He’s right, Juliana. If my parents found out Lord Seton was trying to set me up with Walter, I’m afraid it would look very bad for him, especially since they think we’re courting right now.” She looked at Peter as he opened the carriage door and offered his hand to her. “Thank you for all the help you have been thus far. I believe a letter will help smooth things over until the next time I am able to see Walter.”
Peter smiled as he helped Patience into the carriage.
Before helping Juliana in, he leaned his head close, to whisper to her. “Do not interfere unnecessarily, Juliana. I implore you.”
“Unlike some people, I go out of my way to help a friend in need,” she shot back at him, irritated that he was unwilling to help further.
His face darkened but he didn’t say another word to her. She stepped in the carriage, sitting next to a distressed Patience. Peter took his seat in front of the girls before telling the driver to set off. The ride home was quiet, Peter glaring at Juliana the entire way. But she was too wrapped up in thought to notice. She would set this right. The fault was hers and she must remedy it.
Chapter Ten
Juliana showed up at Peter’s London home, her maid in tow. He stood from the armchair he had been reading in, taking long strides to meet her in the middle. “Is anything the matter?” he asked quickly, concern touching his features.
“I need to talk with Mr. Longman about yesterday,” she blurted out. She’d thought on it all day and knew this was the only solution to the problem she had created.
Peter groaned. “Juliana put it from your mind. Miss Patience can take it from here. It is her life. There is no need to bombard the poor man with more of your schemes.”
“But it was all my fault for pushing you into pretending to court Patience, my fault for encouraging Patience to go see him—”
Peter stepped forward, setting his hands on her shoulders. She cast her eyes downward, ashamed at her role in all of this.
“Juliana, look at me.”
She did, locking her eyes on his bright blue ones. They had softened considerably, and her heart danced at the change. “None of this is your fault. It was simply a matter of us being at the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a circumstantial flaw. There is nothing for you to fix.”
She stepped away from him, collapsing on the love seat tucked beside the fireplace. “I fear I will not rest until I see him. Also—I want to see if he’d consider making an offer to Patience again.”
Peter sat beside her. “That’s folly, Juliana. And not your business.”
“But I feel that it is.”
“Well, it isn’t,” Peter said sternly. “You must promise me you won’t harass Mr. Longman about his attachments to Miss Patience.”
Juliana remained silent, staring at a painting hanging over a piano forte. It was one his mother painted, her tranquil lake with swans swimming amongst blooming lily pads.
“Juliana? Did you hear me?” Peter asked with exasperation.
“I did.” Juliana returned her eyes to him.
“But you will not enter into such a promise?”
“I will not.” She stood and he immediately stood with her. She curtsied, finding herself so close to Peter she could feel the heat coming off him. She backed away quickly, not liking the thrill that shot through her at such close contact with him. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Good day.”
She spun on her heel, leaving Peter staring after her, his jaw set. His order not to meddle had made her even more anxious to speak with Mr. Longman. She could not rest until she had her way.
Juliana turned to her maid, who had followed her out onto the street again. Juliana knew she should have an escort to Westminster, but her maid would tell her uncle, causing too many questions. She briefly thought of Mr. Westcott, but then he’d have to know that Patience and Peter were in a faux courtship. No, the only way she could do this was alone.
She walked back home, her residence only being a few houses down, and feigned a headache. After her maid fussed over her, the maid slipped out, leaving Juliana finally alone in her bedchamber. Juliana promptly popped out of bed, donning her spencer before sneaking out of the house unnoticed.
She hailed a hackney and entered the carriage, telling the driver where to take her. Her heart pounded against her breastbone and she took off alone, but she was determined to find Mr. Longman.
When she arrived, Juliana was helped out of the carriage. She quickly strode to the entrance of the House of Commons. Inside, she found herself out of her depth. She held out her hand to stop an older gentleman as he walked past. “Excuse me, can you give me the direction of a Mr. Longman?” The man stopped, peering down at her with his quizzing glass perched on his eye, a disdainful look on his face. When he didn’t answer, she went on, persuading him to her cause. “It is very important that I see him.”
The mustached man wrinkled his nose before dropping his spectacle and answering her in a condescending tone. “I am afraid that’s impossible, ma’am. I believe Mr. Longman has been called away on some emergency. No one knows where he’s gone, but he’s certainly not here.”
Juliana’s heart deflated. “I see. I am sorry for your trouble.”
The man huffed one last time before moving away from her.
Juliana hurried from the House of Commons, suddenly feeling Peter had the right of it. She should not have come today.
As she stepped onto the crowded street, she found her hackney had disappeared. She scanned the area looking for another one, but they passed her, already loaded with passengers.
She suddenly felt very alone as people moved about her, paying little attention. She began to walk, hoping she wouldn’t become lost. She was out of place, her expensive clothes standing out. People gave her odd looks as they passed, perhaps wondering where her companions could be. She knew it was highly irregular for a woman of her class to be wandering London’s streets unaccompanied.
Just as she was about to lose hope, a horse-drawn carriage clapped past her, then pulled to a stop. To Juliana’s surprise, Mr. Westcott’s head popped out.
“My dear Miss Gibbon!” he called. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
She opened her mouth to respond, trying not to sound awkward in her unusual predicament. “I was just running an errand but I’m afraid I find myself lost. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Mr. Westcott climbed out the carriage, gesturing inside. “Allow me the honor of escorting you home, Miss Gibbon.” He looked very pleased with the situation.
Relief flushed through her. “Oh, Mr. Westcott, you are wonderful,” she said, taking his hand and stepping into the carriage.
He settled into the seat in front of her and ordered the carriage to continue on. He eyed her with concern. “It is dangerous for a young lady like yourself to be wandering the streets alone. Where was your escort?”
“Yes, I know.” She tried to stall him, so she could think of a plausible explanation for her folly. “I could not find one on such short notice.” Her lame attempt at an explanation fell flat.
“I would have been more than happy to offer my services.”
Juliana smiled at his kindness. “Thank you. I will remember that in future.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “You won’t mention finding me alone to anyone, will you? I realize it could leave a bit of a blemish on my reputation.”
Mr. Westcott looked surprised that she would even ask. “Of course. I am sure you had your reasons. I will not tattle.” He gave her a satisfied smile.
She was irritated at his coy response, too pleased with himself for catching her this way. She pushed down her reaction to focus on his good qualities. He was after all doing her a great service.
She did not have long to dwell on her misgivings. They pulled up to her uncle’s home, and he jumped out to help her from the carriage. Before he released her, his hand gently squeezed hers while his head ducked down, so his lips were near her ear. “I wanted to ask you, Miss Gibbon, if I could keep you close at the next ball. I greatly enjoy your company and want to selfishly keep you all to myself.”
Juliana’s insides jumped. She would have to make her decision on how well she liked him before she allowed him such liberties. “You may have several dances if you wish,” she said, giving him a little of what he asked for his gallantry. He did not find her foolhardy. She wished the thought gave her more pleasure. She put it from her mind. Peter would never change, and it was foolish to expect it.
Mr. Westcott kissed her hand tenderly before letting her go and moving back into his carriage. As she watched him go, she fanned her face for fear her flush would raise unwanted questions. She let out a long slow breath before pushing her way inside, then scurried into the safety of her bedchamber.
Chapter Eleven
Peter hadn’t heard from Juliana in days. This wasn’t like her. Even though she did not like the ways of society, she had never missed an important event. She had called off their trip to the Opera last evening and he needed to know why. If she was sick, her father would need to know. Heaven’s please don’t let her be sick. He did not want to think of the concern that would fall on all of them if that were the case.
The Opera had been pleasant enough with Patience by his side, but it wasn’t the same without Juliana. He found that she made the evening speed up every time she was near. He craved her company, odd that he’d never felt this way in years past, when she was still at home tending to her father.
The thought kept pushing through his mind that he had been too hard on the poor girl. His unfeeling toward her in the Walter Longman matter ate at him until he could stand it no longer.
Her aunt and uncle graciously received him. “Is Miss Gibbon at home?”
“I believe Juliana is in the back gardens, enjoying the fresh air,” Mrs. Gibbon offered. “I’ll go fetch her.”
“There’s no need, I can join her there.”
Her aunt smiled at him, catching her needlepoint as she sat.
He went through the home and out the back, finding Juliana sitting on a stone bench, book in hand. She looked up as he approached, then quickly stood. Uncertainty simmered under her lashes. “Peter, I was not expecting your arrival.”
Peter took in the red of her dress, the flush in her cheeks, and her attentive eyes. “I was worried about you. I wanted to see how you were.” He stepped closer, catching her sleeve with his shoulder as it brushed up to him.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she sat back down on the bench, distancing herself from him. “And how are you faring?”
“I’m afraid London is beginning to bore me.” He sat next to her. “I missed your company last evening.”
She looked to the ground as she picked at the spine of her book. “I was—tired.” Her expressive determination was gone, and he wondered if she’d had a fight with Patience. She never mentioned it last night.
“Have you heard from Patience?” he asked cautiously.
Juliana nodded, bringing her eyes to his. He moved next to her on the bench, loving the warmth of her nearness. “She’s still upset about Mr. Longman. She has not heard from him after sending him a letter.”
Peter sighed. “We can’t help that. Perhaps he no longer has an interest in Miss Patience.”
“That can’t be true,” Juliana urged. “Maybe he hasn’t read it yet. Or he’s disheartened from the emergency that’s taken him away.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about an emergency?” Anger replaced his earlier affection.
Juliana pressed her lips together as guilt pricked her eyes. “I happened upon this information,” she said vaguely, looking at the roses to her left.
Frustration flared inside Peter. “Juliana—did you go to visit Walter Longman?”
“He wasn’t even there.” Fire flashed as she turned her eyes to him.
“Who escorted you?”
Juliana turned away
from him again, but he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Answer me, Juliana,” he shouted, more harshly than he should have.
“I went alone,” she said defiantly, her scowl searing into him.
Peter’s eyes widened; his pulse quickened. “How foolish can you be Juliana? You put yourself in great danger.”
“No one knows but Mr. Westcott,” she argued. “And he won’t tell a soul.”
A protective instinct reared inside Peter. “Mr. Westcott?” he snapped.
“Yes!” Her voice rose. “Mr. Westcott happened upon me in the streets and offered me a ride home. Which he wouldn’t have had to do if you had escorted me like I urged.” She turned up her defiant head.
Peter shot to his feet, anger heating his face. “So, you went behind my back and meddled in this whole Walter Longman situation anyway. Juliana, if any harm had come to you—,”
“None did, thanks to Mr. Westcott,” Juliana said coldly as she stood, her book tucked under her arm. “I think he rather likes me. He enjoys my laughter and wit and doesn’t trouble himself with ordering me about.”
Peter had to bite his tongue to keep from verbally lashing out at her again. Grinding his teeth, he said, “Perhaps you’d better marry him, then.”
“Perhaps I should,” she shot back.
He stepped close to her, so close he could count the lashes on her eyelids. It took everything in him not to take her in his arms and kiss that ridiculous pride out of her. “You’re mingling in high society, Juliana,” he warned, his voice low. “Pray, don’t make a fool of yourself.”
Her eyes glittered with sadness and irritation. “You’re not my brother,” she whispered. “You don’t need to protect me from myself.”
He clenched his jaw. “Someone has to.”
Before she could reply, he turned from her and stormed back into the house, marching out the front door. He needed a stiff drink and possibly a round at the mill to quell his agitation.
***
A Friendly Alliance: A Regency Romance (Heirs of Berkshire Book 1) Page 7
