The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix)

by Rhonda Woodward

  “It could be that her servants are so ill-trained that she has to worry about such things,” Julia said with a mischievous smile. “But you are much too competent, and your home is too well run to worry about such trifles.”

  Caro clapped her hands. “I like that. I shall just ignore her. I can afford to be magnanimous this week. But now that I have calmed down, I can see that I have interrupted your letter writing.”

  “It matters not,” Julia said. “I was just writing to Aunt Beryl. I am sure you have already received her regrets for your party. Uncle John is still recovering from his head cold. I am disappointed, I have never been so long without their company.”

  “I am disappointed for another reason,” Caro replied. “I was hoping the presence of our aunt and uncle would dissuade you from continuing to make sheep’s eyes at the duke.”

  Julia’s expression showed her complete shock at these words.

  “Sheep’s eyes! I have never been so inelegant as to make sheep’s eyes at anyone.”

  “I may have put it a bit too strongly. But you did give him all of your attention yesterday. I cannot say that I blame you. I was probably batting my lashes at him as well. The way he so courteously listened to me and looked into my eyes…” Her voice trailed off on a sigh. “‘Tis hard to dismiss so much amiability and ease of manner in one so grand.”

  Julia said nothing. As much as she resisted the thought, a part of her acknowledged the truth of Caro’s words. The duke was startlingly charming.

  “You must admit, Julia, the duke is not the boor you thought him to be.”

  Julia fiddled with her quill. “He is not all bad—people rarely are. But his pleasing ways cannot change the fact that he is selfish and arrogant.”

  Caro sighed. “Cannot you see that you are placing your reputation in further danger? If your good name was in question before, what do you think will be said if you continue in this foolish manner? Not that there has been any gossip about you in Bath—but that can easily change if you are not a little more careful.”

  Julia looked into her cousin’s concerned gaze for a moment before coming to a decision. “A-actually I am not at all sure how I shall proceed where the duke is concerned.”

  Caro’s brows rose in surprise. “I will thank all the saints if you are finally seeing reason.”

  Several hours later, as the rain pounded the hills of Bath, Julia was beginning to believe she would soon pace a hole in the rug on the floor of her pretty bedchamber. A clap of thunder caused her to give a nervous start as she walked past the fireplace for the twentieth time.

  Earlier, she had sent a servant over to Mariah’s hotel, asking her to come to the townhouse a little before the party started.

  After a few more minutes of impatient pacing, she heard a tap at the door. Practically running across the room, Julia pulled the door open and was enormously pleased to see Mariah, who was dressed in a sapphire blue evening gown.

  “Thank you for coming early,” Julia said, pulling her into the room and shutting the door.

  “Not at all, I was intending to arrive before Caro’s party started, anyway. Mama wanted to come early so that she can evaluate the unattached young men as they arrive. Besides, I wanted to speak to you as well—I have been concerned about you.”

  Waving her hand, Julia directed her friend to be seated on the vanity chair, before sitting on the bed.

  “In what way?”

  “Seeing you and the duke together yesterday changed my whole opinion on this revenge business. I now believe that you should stop right now.”

  The note of deep concern in Mariah’s voice could not be ignored.

  “What about seeing me and the duke together has brought you to this opinion?”

  “While watching him with you at the river, I had the feeling that he has been through these kinds of sophisticated flirtations a thousand times. He is a hundred steps ahead of you. He is so attractive and polished, he is dangerous. More dangerous now that you no longer hate him. Do not bother to deny it, I saw it on your face yesterday.”

  “I won’t,” Julia said quietly, smoothing the front of her rose pink gown with nervous fingers. “Too much has happened too quickly. My mind is spinning with so many conflicting thoughts about the duke. Why couldn’t things have stayed simple? It was much easier to hate him when all I knew of him was that he kissed unsuspecting women on the street for a lark. I cannot forgive him, yet I no longer hate him. I certainly find myself at a pretty pass.”

  An empty feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she continued, “You are right. I am finished with this nonsense. I shall return home in a few weeks, pick up the threads of my old life, and never think of him again. No need to worry that I shall make myself ridiculous where the duke is concerned.”

  “I was never worried about that, m’dear. But I confess that I am relieved that you have given up this notion of revenge, even though I was dreadful in the way I encouraged you.”

  “Never say so—you have been a wonderful friend! I am so glad you are here. For some reason, all day I have been as skittish as a cat near the kennels.” Rising from the bed, Julia forced a smile in an attempt to make light of her nervousness.

  Smiling, Mariah stood up as well. “You cannot be worse than my mama has been this evening. Since the gala night, she is convinced that because of this new connection with the duke and his family, a titled gentleman will suddenly fall in love at the sight of me. She is determined to see me in a coronet if she has to send Papa to debtors’ prison to do it. Shall we go down so that I may be put on display?”

  “Yes, I think we may be late enough to make a grand entrance,” Julia said, picking up her shell pink shawl from the foot of the bed. A moment later they left the room, arm in arm.

  An hour and a half later, Julia and Mariah were standing in the main salon, near the double doors that led to the dining room. Footmen moved discreetly among the guests, replacing empty wineglasses with full ones. There was a pleasant hum of conversation, occasionally interspersed with laughter.

  Despite the convivial atmosphere, Julia felt as uneasy as she had earlier.

  The duke’s arrival had only heightened her anxiety. Now she congratulated herself, for after their initial greeting she had hardly looked in his direction.

  She had to confess that it was almost impossible to ignore him, such was his air of consequence and imposing physical presence. It was as if she were trying to pretend that a lion was not prowling the room.

  “Despite the dowager Lady Farren’s unsubtle hints, I must say that Caro is on her mettle this evening. Everyone seems more than pleased,” Mariah stated, recalling Julia’s attention.

  “I agree.” Julia had shared with her friend the contents of the dowager’s insulting note. In response, both young ladies had done their best to be as engaging and amiable as they could to help ensure the success of the evening.

  Catching Caro’s eye, Julia sent an encouraging smile to her cousin. Gracefully breaking away from her conversation with the elderly Colonel Asher—a charmer Julia had met earlier—Caro crossed the room to join Julia and Mariah.

  “Do you think it is going well—does everyone seem to be happy?” Caro’s tone revealed how concerned she was despite her façade of confidence.

  “It has turned into a lovely evening, Caro. You are doing a beautiful job,” Julia said.

  “I am just pleased that all this thunder and lightning has not prevented anyone on my guest list from coming this evening. As long as all is well in the kitchen, I shall breathe easy.”

  “I would not worry about a thing, Caro. It is a wonderful party. The rain beating on the window-panes has only made us all feel cozy. On a night like this, everyone feels obliged to be pleasant,” Mariah offered in the tone of a sage.

  “They do? Why?” Caro asked curiously.

  “Well, ‘tis more desirable to be at a lovely gathering than to give into the bad weather and go to bed with a fit of the doldrums.”

  Julia and Car
o laughed at Mariah’s bit of whimsy.

  “As I am feeling quite obliged to be pleasant, I shall be a good guest and go and converse with some of the others,” Julia told them.

  She had espied Mr. Dillingham on the other side of the room with Lady Davinia and the dowager Lady Farren. Julia had not seen him since the evening of the latter lady’s ball.

  A twinge of guilt tugged at her conscience, for she had not given Mr. Dillingham or their budding relationship a thought since the dowager Lady Farren’s ball.

  As she moved across the room, she made sure to give the duke a wide berth. How effortlessly he commanded attention, she noticed, her eyes on his strong profile. With the other guests standing around him, it was as if he stood in the eye of a colorful, chattering storm. It surprised her a little to see that he was not wearing his usual bored expression.

  At that moment the duke turned, and above the heads of those around him, his dark penetrating gaze met hers.

  For an instant, she felt as if one of the flashes of lightning raging outside sparked between them, leaving her breathless and shocked.

  Quickly looking away, she continued to cross the room, feeling slightly dazed.

  No matter how she tried, the memory of being in his arms could not be dismissed. She had been completely unprepared for the feelings the intimate encounter had created.

  It was not just the unexpected sense of melting passion that stayed with her. It was the duke’s gentleness—mixed with unmistakable desire—that continued to reverberate within her.

  The intimate look that just passed between them reminded her of the way he had asked her name before kissing her so gently.

  A shiver feathered across the back of her neck and down her spine.

  The deep intensity of his whispered question stayed with her like a haunting dream. Odd that such a simple thing could affect her so acutely.

  Continuing to cross the room, she suddenly realized that if the duke had not stopped, she would have stayed in his arms without giving a care to the ramifications.

  What a widgeon I was to think that I could ever best a man like the duke in games of the heart, she chided herself. But she wondered again why he had been the first to put an end to their embrace.

  Another muffled clap of thunder pulled her from these disturbing thoughts.

  As she moved toward Mr. Dillingham and Lady Davinia, she was aware of the heavy, empty feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

  Sensing her presence, Lady Davinia turned and smiled. “Dear Miss Allard, how lovely to see you again. I confess I have been hoping to meet you again since our encounter at the Orange Grove.” Lady Davinia’s expression and tone of voice leant sincerity to her words.

  “You are too kind, Lady Davinia.” Julia smiled, curtsied, and greeted the dowager and Mr. Dillingham.

  “Good evening, Miss Allard. I was just saying to Lady Farren and Lady Davinia that the last time I had such a pleasant evening was at Lady Farren’s wonderful ball.”

  “I certainly agree with you, Mr. Dillingham,” Julia said.

  “I daresay that I would not be flattering myself to say that my daughter-in-law has learned a bit about entertaining from me,” Lady Farren said, preening shamelessly.

  Keeping the smile pasted to her face, Julia decided that it was the better part of valor—and being a good guest—to let this remark pass without comment.

  To her relief, a moment later another guest drew the dowager away.

  “Miss Allard, I am determined to get to know you better. Do tell me about yourself,” Lady Davinia beseeched.

  With a surprised laugh, Julia said, “There is very little to tell.”

  Lady Davinia started to reply when the large double doors opened, and Hill, the butler, stepped in. Three gentlemen passed him in a desultory fashion and strode into the room.

  All conversation stopped as everyone turned to see who had arrived.

  “My lord Haverstone, my lord Alton, and Mr. Morton,” Hill announced into the sudden silence.

  Curiously, Julia looked over at the group. All the men were dressed in expertly tailored evening clothes of the finest material.

  The first gentleman took a few more steps into the room and halted. Julia assumed he was Lord Haverstone, as he was the first to be announced. With his weight on one leg in an elegantly negligent fashion, he pulled a quizzing glass as his friends moved to flank him.

  With an impressive lack of self-consciousness, Lord Alton raised the glass to his eye and began to leisurely scan the room.

  A little distance away, Julia saw Mrs. Thorncroft scurry up behind Mariah. “Posture, Mariah, posture,” she whispered, giving her daughter a swift poke between the shoulder blades.

  Turning her gaze back to the gentlemen, Julia felt the anxiousness that had been plaguing her all day swell up and choke her.

  “‘Pon my soul, there you are, Kel!” Lord Haverstone said as his gaze came to rest on the duke. “See, Alton, Morton? We have finally run him to ground.”

  “Jolly good! Must say Bath is the last place I would have looked,” said Lord Alton.

  “Bath is the last place we looked, Alton,” the third gentleman informed him in a dry tone.

  Julia took a gulp of air as the men continued to gaze around the room, their expressions conveying a combination of curiosity and haughtiness.

  From the corner of her eye, Julia saw the duke, who had been on the opposite end of the room when the men had entered, begin to move toward them.

  Clive was closer and overcame his surprise enough to step forward, arms wide in welcome. “My lords, Mr. Morton! How very good of you to come. When we met earlier, I confess that I did not entertain the hope that you would accept my invitation. Welcome, welcome!” He turned and made a quick gesture to one of the footmen. “May I offer you a glass of wine?”

  Julia watched in growing alarm as Clive continued to make the newcomers welcome. An instant later, Caro hurried forward, her face wreathed in a smile of delighted welcome.

  Maybe her earlier fit of nerves had been some sort of premonition, Julia thought, for although she felt alarmed, she was not truly surprised to see these three men.

  Always in the back of her mind, since meeting Lord Mattonly, was the possibility that the duke’s other friends might turn up as well. As the days had passed, she had grown less worried, but the niggling fear had not gone completely away.

  Now, standing beneath the ornate, crystal chandelier, her fingers reflexively gripped the handle of her ivory fan. White flashes of lightning, coming through the half-closed drapery knifed through the room’s warm, candlelit glow.

  Her gaze stayed on the three elegant men as Clive and Caro fluttered around them, looking excessively pleased. As if in slow motion, Julia watched the duke making his way through the clusters of guests.

  Although some of the guests had resumed their conversations, the noise level was not what it had been a few moments ago.

  Almost absentmindedly, Julia took note of Lord Alton. The tallest of the three, he was handsome despite his harsh features. His raven hair and blue eyes seemed to confirm the coldness she sensed from him.

  He was only half paying attention to his hosts as Julia watched him raise the quizzing glass to his left eye. He resumed his casual perusal of the other guests, heedless that a number of them stared back.

  Another flash sliced across the salon, and Julia saw the lightning flicker eerily off Lord Haverstone’s quizzing glass. A rumble of thunder shortly followed.

  An instant later, her gaze met his light blue eyes for a brief moment, and then his gaze moved on. Julia held her breath as she saw Lord Haverstone’s body still before he swung his gaze back to her.

  He stared for a moment and then swept her figure with keen regard. Lowering his glass, he turned to his friends. “Egad,” he drawled, “Kel, do confess that this is the gel that you kissed on Bolton Street last year. No wonder we could never find her—she’s been in Bath, of all godforsaken places.”

  Julia’s
breathing froze. If the room had not been so unnaturally quiet because of their unexpected arrival, she was sure that no one but the duke would have heard this comment. But by their shocked expressions, it was apparent to her that Lady Davinia and Mr. Dillingham must have heard Lord Haverstone’s words.

  Taking a very deep breath, Julia felt oddly detached from her surroundings. She only felt a stab of regret that Caro’s lovely party was about to be thoroughly ruined.

  Seemingly oblivious to the other guests, Mr. Morton stepped forward and squinted at Julia for a moment. Glancing over his shoulder, he tossed the duke a grin. “Kel, you sly dog! We’ve been scratchin’ our noggins as to why you would choose to rusticate in Bath. Well, well, well! Now we know why.”

  Sparing a brief glance to the duke, Julia saw the thunderous frown come to his brow, before she looked at Caro. Her cousin’s expression was deeply pained, and Clive and his mama looked thunderstruck.

  The duke stepped forward, and Julia felt an immediate and overwhelming need to escape.

  She could feel everyone’s eyes upon her as she quickly looked around for the quickest way of leaving the room.

  The duke and his odious friends were between her and the double doors that opened to the hall, which led to the staircase.

  Her only other choice was to go into the dining room, which had a door that led into the kitchen and French doors that opened to the back garden.

  Refusing to so much as glance in the duke’s direction, Julia lifted her chin in unconscious defiance. In a last desperate attempt to salvage a shred of her dignity, she struggled for an air of naturalness and grace as she swept into a deep curtsy.

  “Please excuse me,” she said, rising as smoothly as she could.

  Fighting the urge to run, she moved past a number of guests, opened one of the dining room doors, stepped into the room, and closed it behind her, leaving the gaping faces behind.

  Several servants, in the midst of putting the final touches to the gorgeous dining table, looked up in shock, for dinner would not be served for another fifteen minutes.