A Lot Like a Lady

by Kim Bowman

  She pushed the door open with nary a creak, squeezed inside, then quietly shut it behind her. The room was shuttered in dimness but she dared not light the chandelier and risk discovery. The glow of her chamberstick would have to do.

  She looked around. Without the duke in attendance, the study was almost just an ordinary room.

  Except even without his bodily presence, his essence was everywhere. The smell of cigar clung to the air. She hadn’t even realized he enjoyed a smoke, but now she could imagine him puffing away and looking out onto the street before retiring to his bed. A sideboard along the hearth wall held a silver tray upon which rested several crystal decanters of spirits.

  “Well, he does like his comforts, doesn’t he?” she murmured into the empty room. Then she frowned at the acidulous thought. Who was she to say the man shouldn’t enjoy a bit of relaxation at the end of the day? And he did entertain visitors in his study — she’d seen some of them. So no doubt he closed deals over a glass of his fine wine.

  Juliet sighed. She’d never understand the lifestyle. Never.

  She traced the tooling along the spines of the leather-bound books with the tip of one finger. Books had been a luxury for her family. She’d read a couple that Annabella had managed to sneak into her hands. Juliet’s family had owned only two, though. One was a family Bible, cheaply bound in black leather and passed down from ancestors Juliet had no knowledge of save for their names in the registry. It still graced her nightstand at the country estate. The other was a ragged and torn edition of some of William Shakespeare’s works that her father had salvaged from the discarded estate of Annabella’s real father. She’d left that back in the country as well.

  But here she was, standing in Grey’s study before his fabulous library collection. Two of the walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with brown and black leather-bound books, titles and authors’ names glittering out at her in luxurious gold lettering. The books amazed Juliet, not only by the sheer number of them, but by their impeccable condition.

  She stepped away from the shelves and twirled to take in the effect of the entire room. A pair of red velvet chairs sat conversation-style in front of the floor-to-ceiling bay window. The dark green and brown draperies were no longer tied back. When she’d been in the study the first time, diffuse morning light had spilled through the tall window into the room. It would be a wonderful place to read, quiet with plenty of light so as not to hurt the eyes.

  Did Grey sit in one of those chairs and enjoy the adventures his books could carry him on?

  She sighed. Of course, Grey went on plenty of his own adventures. He’d mentioned bringing Satin back from Spain. And he’d spoken of Vienna. He wasn’t confined to London or the country. Juliet had been fortunate to be able to spend a Season in London, and even at that, her life here in Town was all a pretense. But she didn’t want to think such thoughts… not tonight when the adventures in Grey’s books could be hers for the choosing.

  Lady Charity seemed to be enjoying the books Grey’s secretary had borrowed from the circulating library for her. With a smile curving her lips, Juliet’s mind drifted to Grey again. Was he indeed as well-read as he was traveled? He certainly had opinions on everything. Would he have a recommendation for her evening’s adventure?

  She sighed. If she told him the truth of her circumstance, she likely wouldn’t be standing before this treasure trove of tomes.

  She drew the chamberstick toward the first shelf, careful not to bring it too close. Her gaze drifted along the selection. Books about history and architecture, of ships and carriages. And one thin book detailing methods of horse training. She leafed through the pages, stopping at a section about breeding. Her breath caught over the crude drawings of mating horses, and her cheeks burned. “Silliness,” she muttered, shoving the book back onto the shelf. “As if anyone can learn to train a horse by reading a dusty old book.”

  The next one on the shelf was thicker. “Birds of the English Countryside,” she read aloud, and sighed. Annabella hadn’t told her she would see hardly a bird in London, or that she would miss hearing the trilling of the song sparrows and the scolding of the magpies in the fields.

  The name Shakespeare on the spine of a thick volume bound in brown leather caught her eye. She slid it from the shelf with a smile.

  ****

  Grey pushed open the door to the townhouse and stepped across the threshold. An evening at White’s had, until recently, been a pleasant way to spend time. He hadn’t necessarily been filled with desire to show up at Almack’s, particularly not escorting his houseguest. And yet, it would have been time in her company, time he could use to talk to her, maybe glean some information about her true identity and the actual whereabouts of his stepsister, since Jon had not been forthcoming with details.

  But that wasn’t the only reason he’d been set on the particular outing. It was also an excuse to be near her. For as much as he knew nothing about her, the chit intrigued him and sparked his imagination.

  Grey handed off his hat and gloves to the waiting Higgins. “That will be all for tonight, Higgins. You may retire.”

  The butler bowed. “Thank you, your grace. But I might suggest you check your study before you find your bed.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward his quarters.

  Grey furrowed his brow. Why on earth should I want to do that? But there in his study lay the object of his earlier contemplation, curled up asleep in one of his red velvet chairs. Grey froze in his tracks, afraid to so much as breathe. She didn’t stir to wakefulness but remained blissfully unaware of his presence. A large book lay open in her lap. Grey’s feet whispered across the carpet without his permission, drawing him, curious, toward her like an aphid to a rose. In the fading firelight, the gilt lettering on the cover swam for a moment. Then he recognized the thick book of Shakespeare’s sonnets that had belonged to his father.

  Grey’s heart warmed, and his lips curled upward at the memory of his father sitting in front of the fire reading sonnets to his wife… Grey’s mother.

  Lifting his eyes to the girl sleeping in his study chair, Grey reached out to brush her hair away from her face. He should awaken her, chase her to her rooms and a more appropriate resting place. But he paused, his hand hovering near her face. Though difficult to see in the dim lighting, the whitish tracks coating her cheeks could only be trails of dried tears. If he wiped them away, as his tingling fingers yearned to do, she would surely wake, and suddenly that no longer seemed the best course to take. She’d probably not thank him for discovering her in his study or seeing to it that she retired to her rooms.

  He wondered at the tears, somehow doubting they were related to any vague malady as described by Lady Charity.

  Has your life been so difficult, little Magpie?

  Grey eased the book from her lap and set it on the table next to the chair. Then he lifted her gently, praying she’d not awaken, and carried her through the darkened house to her rooms. He tried not to think of her lightness or the softness of her curves against him. Nor of the way his body stirred with inappropriate thoughts.

  Lady Charity answered his soft knock and made a chattering sound with her tongue, shaking her head.“I tried to tell her she’d not recovered sufficiently to get out of bed.” She held the door open for him and he eased across the threshold. “I only hope she’ll not pay for this in the morning.”

  Grey laid the girl on her bed and stepped back. Not trusting himself to speak, he afforded Lady Charity a curt nod then crossed to the door and stepped through, pulling it closed behind him.

  I wonder what excuse you will use to try and get out of going to Lord and Lady Evanthorne’s ball?

  Chapter Seven

  As the toe of Juliet’s shoe caught in the hem of her dress, the soft sound of fabric tearing made her cringe. She was ruining so many of Annabella’s fine dresses and gowns with her carelessness. At this rate, she’d be up long hours mending them, working late at night so no one noticed how many of her hems had b
een trodden on. Afraid she would trip as she ran to keep up with the silent maid in her tidy black dress, Juliet hitched up her skirt. Her presence had been “requested” in the drawing room by the duke, though from the apprehension on the maid’s face and her fearful tone of voice, it was more of a command than a request. When Juliet paused at the open doors, the maid waited until she crossed the threshold into the airy, if somewhat formal, room before melting into the background again and vanishing.

  As if I haven’t been here long enough to find my own way. Perhaps he believes me to be in need of an escort through his townhouse because I’ll run away, a child whose hand needs to be held… or perhaps a prisoner ready to bolt to freedom.

  Grey’s presence filled the room from where he sat in the green velvet chair to one side of the fireplace. His straight posture and regal bearing announced without words that this was another formal interview.

  Aunt Charity looked up at Juliet’s hesitant entrance. “Come in, my dear. We’ve been waiting for you.” Lady Charity sounded so formal, so unlike the kind auntie she’d been the evening before when Juliet had pleaded a devastating headache to keep from being put on show at Almack’s. Lady Harmony hovered nervously behind Charity.

  “You asked to see me, your grace?” Juliet managed to choke out.

  “I’ve accepted an invitation to a ball a week Friday.” He steepled his fingers in front of him while his gaze raked her from top to bottom. “Your aunts and I have decided that you… will accompany me.”

  Her eyes popped wide open. “A b-ball? I-I’m afraid I c-can’t attend a-a ball.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course you can.” Charity made a dismissive movement with her hand. “Why, the dress has already been commissioned.”

  Understanding dawned. So that’s why they’d gone to the modiste. Juliet had thought it merely a normal outing for the aunts while they were in London. They’d certainly been fitted for lots of different dresses. Still, attending a ball would never do.

  “Aunt Char—”

  “There wasn’t time to order a gown from Austria, I’m afraid,” Harmony added with a frown. “Such lovely things from Austria.” She sighed a little dreamily.

  “I do not need a new gown,” protested Juliet as heat crept into her face.

  Charity clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “Well, of course you do. Your gowns are all far too long. You nearly trip with every step. And the way some of your dresses…”

  Harmony cleared her throat and Charity glanced at Juliet with a sigh.

  The air rushed from Juliet’s lungs. When she gulped in a deep breath, the sharp scent of the fragrant lilies on the side table clogged her throat. She swayed as a woozy feeling threatened to overcome her. She simply hadn’t considered anyone would notice that Annabella’s dresses didn’t quite fit.But Harmony merely shrugged. “And every young lady should enjoy a new gown or two.”

  “Aunties! I can’t go to this ball!” Juliet’s shout echoed in the room, finally silencing the aunts. The clip-clop of a fast-moving carriage filtered through the open window. Juliet stole a glance at the duke. Glittering blue eyes bored into her like a hunter waiting to pounce on his hapless prey.

  “Why not?” asked Charity after a moment, a confused frown knitting her brow.

  “Yes, Annabella. I’m interested in the answer to that question myself.” Grey stood, watching her with his glittering blue eyes as he interjected himself back into the conversation.

  If she had thought she had a chance of putting the aunts off, she was certain she stood no such possibility with his grace.

  “Well?” he snapped. “What excuse are you concocting to avoid this social engagement?”

  Juliet shrank inside herself. The lilies’ cloying scent became bitter, and her stomach turned. She could hardly plead off with a headache this time since the day had yet to approach. She’d simply have to admit to the truth. At least as much as she dared.

  “I can’t dance,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze locked on her feet.

  The aunts gasped in unison and Juliet flinched.

  “What?” barked Grey.

  His voice jerked her head up. The duke stared, disbelief evident on his face. She began to tremble and her throat went dry.

  “What nonsense are you pulling now?”

  No wonder Annabella considers him an arrogant and pompous— Staring at him through narrowed eyes, Juliet pulled her lips into a sweet smile and tried to still the trembling in her voice while she mustered the sort of haughtiness Annabella would certainly show him. “It’s not nonsense, brother! I only know one dance and I’m not very good at it.”

  “What dance is that, dear?” Harmony closed the distance between them and laid an encouraging arm across Juliet’s shoulders. Juliet wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle on the floor, but Harmony squeezed gently and courage stirred, light as a feather on a summer’s breeze.

  “It’s one m-my mother and father used to d-dance some nights after supper. They’d embrace and kind of slide around the room…”

  Charity’s sharply indrawn breath warned Juliet of her misstep. No! Annabella’s parents probably hadn’t danced in their parlor and they certainly wouldn’t have danced with impropriety. Fine tremors began in Juliet’s hands and she clasped them together to still the motion. She was going to mull it up again if she wasn’t careful.

  Grey arched an eyebrow. “Lord and Lady Price indulged in the waltz in front of you?”

  “Surely not,” murmured Harmony next to her. “The child must be mistaken.”

  “I—mmm… it was a Christmas Eve when I was small.” Unable to meet his searching glance, Juliet turned her back on his grace, losing the comfort of Harmony’s touch with the motion. “I… I was supposed to be tucked up in bed and I sneaked downstairs… and… saw. Them. Dancing.”

  “So, your mother couldn’t see you educated in the proper manner of dance…” Grey’s voice came from directly behind her. Startled, Juliet whirled about. He stood where Harmony had been only a moment earlier, the aunt having joined her sister. Goodness, the man moved like a stealthy cat. She hadn’t heard him cross the floor. His gaze connected with hers and she was unable to turn away. “And yet, you managed to witness your parents in an intimate moment? And from that moment, you know… one dance?”

  Juliet’s stomach tightened. The pictures of her father and mother gliding around the cottage in each other’s arms while her father hummed a lively tune faded. She couldn’t explain that her own father had shown her how to do the gliding dance by letting her stand on his feet while he’d steered her mother round and round. Everyone she knew had danced that way… everyone except the nobles, who considered it improper.

  “I…” Her voice squeaked out like that of a mouse and she cleared her throat. “That is…”

  A commotion erupted in the foyer. Footsteps clattered on the stone and Lord Lucien’s voice muttered loudly. “Come back here, you fool dog. You’ve gotten me tangled in your leash again.”

  A peculiar scraping and grinding reached Juliet’s ears and she frowned, unable to imagine what the noise could be. Nevertheless, she was rather grateful for the interruption.

  Something crashed and Grey cursed as he stalked toward the door. Before he reached it, Percy panted into the room. His leash trailed behind him, dragging the cast iron umbrella stand with it, leaving a deep gouge in the polished wood floor before it caught the edge of the Turkish carpet and hauled him scrambling to a stop.

  Lucien huffed his way to the doorway, carrying a bent and torn black umbrella, and plowed into Grey. He retreated a step, straightened his back, and tugged at the hem of his waistcoat as he looked around the room. “Hrmph. Wretched animal.”

  Percy grunted as he struggled to free himself from the umbrella stand. The dog was sure to drop over dead with the effort. Juliet hastened to him and dropped to her knees. “Oh, poor Percy. There’s an old dear. Let me help you now.” She gave the leash a yank, attempting to free it, but only succeeded in lifting the edge
of the rug with the umbrella stand’s lip. The rug curled over one of Grey’s booted feet and everyone in the room seemed to stop drawing breath.

  Juliet’s heart stopped; surely it did. Lucien blocked her only escape from the room. Oh, Annabella, why haven’t you sent that blasted note? Why was she still in London? Why had she come at all? The duke’s rising ire became tangible, fairly burning her skin. She didn't need to look at him to feel his gaze boring into her. But she couldn’t stop herself from lifting her eyes.

  Grey stared at the long, deep gouge in the floor, then glared at the stand, then the dog, and finally settled his fiery blue gaze on Juliet. She sank her teeth into her lower lip, fumbled the knot on the leash, but finally freed the dog. Then she scrambled across the floor on her knees toward the umbrella stand.

  “On your feet,” snapped Grey from nearly over top of her. “I’ll not have you groveling on the floor like a servant. Uncle Lucien—” He shot a scathing look at the old man. The duke’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “See to your dog,” he finally ground out.

  Juliet stumbled as gracefully as she could treading on that blistering hemline, squared her shoulders, and waited, heart pounding and breathless, for whatever orders the duke would hand down.

  “Ladies, please make arrangements for your… niece to be schooled in the proper form of dance.”

  Shoring himself up, he left the room, taking his arrogance with him. Juliet let out a sigh and slumped, her spine weakened as the tension drained from the room.