Juliana

by Lauren Royal

  Juliana toyed with the handle of her basket, fighting off a self-satisfied grin, until the carriage drew to a stop before a small, neat building with a sign that said NEW HOPE INSTITUTE.

  The neighborhood hadn’t improved, but her aunt no longer seemed to care. When a footman lowered the steps, Aunt Frances all but floated down to the street. Carrying the basket, Juliana climbed out after her, and Emily and Herman followed.

  The door to the Institute opened, and a woman came out and down the steps, holding two children by the hand. Aunt Frances nearly collided with them, but her niece managed to yank her out of the way in time. “What color dresses shall we order?” she asked Juliana.

  “Pastels will look best with your golden-brown hair.”

  On the Institute’s steps, Emily turned and frowned. “Her hair isn’t brown.”

  Juliana smiled. “It will be after I summon Madame Bellefleur to dye it.”

  They all went inside. The reception area looked very new and clean, though it was noisy and crowded with people in ragged clothing. “A snake!” a boy exclaimed, and several grimy children ran over to cluster around Emily and Herman.

  A young woman with an air of authority walked out from behind a counter. She was dressed a little better than the patients. “Twenty-three!” she called.

  A mother stood up with a baby and followed her through a door into the back.

  When the young woman returned to the counter and began adding some rather scary-looking supplies to the jumble already on the shelves, Juliana went over to her. She handed Juliana a worn square of paper with a big black 36 written on it. “You’re number thirty-six,” she said very slowly and clearly, as though Juliana couldn’t read it for herself. “Please be seated. I’ll call you when it’s your turn.”

  Juliana put the paper in her basket. “I wish to have a word with Lord Stafford, if I may.”

  “Lord Stafford?” The woman blinked. “Oh, you mean Dr. Trevor. He isn’t here, milady.”

  Drat! Juliana hadn’t even considered the possibility. “Do you know when he’s expected?”

  “I’m sorry, milady, but I don’t. Only one doctor volunteered for today, so he should be here to vaccinate the other half of the patients. But his note said only that he’d be delayed—”

  Just then the door opened, and in walked James, his coat and cravat draped over one arm. Even though he was scandalously undressed, Juliana couldn’t have been more delighted. “Lord Stafford!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  He looked shocked—and maybe pleased. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  She hadn’t meant it like that. “I thought you’d be here, but you weren’t.”

  “I was examining my Aunt Bedelia. She’s been suffering imaginary chest pains.”

  “The poor, sweet lady.” She paused, just realizing what he’d said. “Imaginary?”

  “Aunt Bedelia is the healthiest woman I know. Except possibly my other aunt, Aurelia.” Unfastening the top button of his shirt, he cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

  Aunt Frances suddenly turned to her. “I was wondering that myself. Why are we here, Juliana?”

  She had no answer, so instead she said, “Aunt Frances, have you met Lord Stafford?”

  James offered a bow. “Good afternoon, Lady Frances.”

  “Good afternoon, my lord.” She looked at him sharply. “Did I see you at Lady Hammersmithe’s ball?”

  “I had the pleasure of attending, yes.”

  Aunt Frances’s gaze grew more focused. At first Juliana assumed she was staring at the little V of exposed skin where James’s shirt was unbuttoned, which Juliana found rather fascinating herself. Other than her brothers’—and they hardly counted—she’d never seen any part of a man’s chest. But then she realized her aunt was actually looking at James’s face, and her blue eyes had turned speculative behind their lenses. Juliana had never seen her look at a gentleman like that before…

  Faith! Middle-aged, gray-haired, half-insensible Aunt Frances was wondering if James was her secret admirer! Juliana pressed a gloved fist to her mouth, but couldn’t quite manage to hold back the mirth that was bubbling up inside her. She covered it with a cough.

  She’d have to write another love letter from Lord Malmsey and sign his name to it this time—before Aunt Frances set her hopes on someone much younger and better-looking.

  James’s gasp interrupted her thoughts. “Is that a snake in my reception room?”

  Across the room, the children were still gathered around Herman, enthralled, while Emily, in her glory, proudly lectured them on his care and allowed them turns to touch.

  Juliana smiled. “That’s Viscount Neville’s daughter, Miss Emily Neville, and—”

  “Get it out of here.”

  “No need to worry.” The light in here was odd; James was looking rather pale. “It’s perfectly harmless, Lord Stafford.”

  “James,” he corrected distractedly. “And I want it out. It’s frightening the children.”

  It was doing no such thing, but Juliana wasn’t about to argue. She had much more important matters to discuss with him. “Aunt Frances, would you please take Emily and Herman outside?”

  Her aunt was still scrutinizing James. “It’s dreadfully cold out there,” she said without taking her eyes off him.

  “You can wait inside the carriage. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “The neighborhood—”

  “The coachman and three footmen are there for your protection.” Juliana took her aunt’s arm and began easing her toward Emily. “You’ll be safe. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

  Her gaze no longer focused on James, Aunt Frances consulted the little watch pinned to her dress. “You’d better not take any more time. The Duke of Castleton is calling at half past two.”

  Following a short negotiation, Juliana finally shut the door behind Aunt Frances, Emily, Herman, and several children who refused to stay inside when there was a snake outside to play with. “Now, if I could have just a few moments of your time, Lord Stafford—”

  “James,” he interrupted.

  “James.” She looked around. “Is there someplace private we could speak?”

  SEVENTEEN

  WONDERING WHAT Juliana wanted of him, James led her to an empty treatment room. He also wondered why the thought of Castleton calling on her irritated him so. Perhaps because Castleton was so very wrong for her. The duke was a prig; she was much too lively for such a stuffy fellow.

  Not to mention the prig wanted her only because she came with a fancy racehorse.

  The treatment room held nothing but a chair and a table spread with medical supplies, but Juliana glanced around as though she found it interesting. She was wearing a dress made of a thin, soft yellow material that did nothing to hide her curves.

  Well, in truth the dress’s fabric wasn’t any finer or thinner than the dresses other young ladies of her class wore—thin, fine fabric must be in fashion, he supposed—but James wasn’t used to seeing women in fashionable dresses at the Institute. The women who came to the Institute generally wore drab, practical clothes made of warm, sturdy fabrics. He wouldn’t have noticed Juliana’s thin dress at a ball, but here at the Institute it made him suddenly—uncomfortably—aware that he was alone in a room with an unchaperoned young lady.

  An unchaperoned young lady he found way too appealing.

  He left the door open.

  “That child doesn’t sound happy,” she said, referring to the sobbing girl in the next room.

  “Dr. Hanley will give her a sugar stick.”

  Sure enough, the sobbing stopped. Juliana smiled. “I love sweets.” She handed him the small basket she was carrying. “I brought you these.”

  He lifted the number 36 on top and peered underneath. Appetizing scents of cinnamon and raspberry wafted out.

  “They’re Shrewsbury cakes,” she said. “Chase ladies always bring sweets when we pay calls.”

  “People don’t generally
call at the Institute.”

  “It’s not in a very nice neighborhood,” she allowed. “Why is that?”

  “Those who live in nice neighborhoods are vaccinated by their own doctors. The patients we serve cannot afford to take a hackney coach to Mayfair.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking chastened. “That does make perfect sense.”

  He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “Have you been vaccinated?”

  She glanced warily toward the instruments. “Actually, I was variolated shortly after birth, before Dr. Jenner’s vaccination method became known.”

  Variolation was an older procedure, a method of taking pus from the pocks of someone suffering from smallpox and inoculating healthy people with it. James was surprised and impressed that she knew the difference. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely frivolous. “Where did you learn about Edward Jenner?”

  “I do know how to read—and not only ladies’ fashion magazines.” She spoke archly, but with a nervous edge. James guessed why when she glanced toward the instruments again.

  “You don’t need to be vaccinated,” he assured her, “not if you’ve been variolated.”

  She instantly relaxed.

  He grinned and went on, “Smallpox variolation grants lifelong immunity. You’re lucky you lived through it, though.” The technique usually caused only a mild case of smallpox, but about two patients in a hundred developed a severe case and died. That was much better odds than the thirty percent risk of death from naturally-caught smallpox, but the newer vaccination method was safer. Jenner had discovered that giving people cowpox would keep them from getting smallpox, too.

  “Were you variolated as a child?” Juliana asked.

  “No, but I was vaccinated while in the army. My commanding officer didn’t want his men dying of smallpox.” He set the basket on the table. “So, what was it you were wanting to speak of?”

  “Try a Shrewsbury cake.” She waited while he chose one and took a bite. “I was wondering what you thought of Lady Amanda.”

  He hadn’t thought of Lady Amanda even once since Saturday’s ball. “She’s lovely,” he said tactfully.

  Juliana beamed. “I’m so glad you think so.”

  He didn’t like where this was leading. ”The cake is delicious,” he said, polishing it off.

  “Have another.” She reached into the basket and put one into his hand. “Do you expect you might wish to marry Lady Amanda?”

  He promptly had a violent coughing fit.

  She waited patiently while he recovered, her expression a mixture of amusement and concern. “Do you feel quite all right, Lord Stafford?”

  “James,” he choked out between deep breaths. “And yes, I do, thank you.”

  “You do wish to marry Lady Amanda, you mean?”

  She was absolutely incorrigible. He took several more breaths before pointing out, “I’ve only danced with her once.”

  “Very true. I expect you’ll want to court her for a while before making such a decision.”

  He didn’t want to court Lady Amanda in the slightest. But it would be rude to say so out loud, so instead he said, “Yes, one doesn’t come to such a decision lightly.”

  The yes was a mistake. Juliana’s lips curved in a delighted smile. “I’m so happy to hear that! I hope you’ll accept my offer of assistance.”

  “Assistance with what?”

  “Wooing Lady Amanda, of course.”

  James couldn’t have heard correctly. “Wooing, did you say?”

  “Precisely. She’s a very particular girl, besides which, I gather you’ve been too busy to court many ladies”—James opened his mouth to protest, though it was no less than the truth, but she headed him off —“not that there’s anything wrong with that! I think it quite adorable, in fact.”

  Adorable? Didn’t girls realize that the worst thing they could possibly call a fellow was adorable? A flush seemed to be rising in his cheeks, which only doubled his mortification.

  “Have another Shrewsbury cake, will you?” She pushed the basket toward him and kept talking. “I’m thinking you could simply accompany me on a few occasions, such as to the theater. I could show you the proper seats to purchase and what sort of refreshments to fetch Lady Amanda during the intermission. And if we went riding in Hyde Park, I could point out the popular places and you could practice being gallant. And perhaps I could make a few suggestions regarding your hair—”

  What was wrong with his hair?

  Seeing his thunderous expression, she quickly backtracked. “Or rather, just one suggestion: don’t change a thing. It’s perfect as it is!” Since he hadn’t taken a third cake, she selected one and shoved it into his hand.

  He stared at her, holding the cake, utterly torn between insult and amusement. What on earth was this girl on about? Gallantry practice? Lessons in wooing? Without question, it was the most absurd—and rudest—offer he’d ever heard. But her heart seemed in the right place, so he’d refuse her gently.

  “While I appreciate the offer, my schedule—”

  “I won’t take up much of your time, I assure you,” she said earnestly. “After all, if our outings fill my schedule, I won’t be available for the duke to pay court to me.”

  The duke. By whom she meant the prig, Castleton, didn’t she? James felt a resurgence of irritation.

  He bit into the cake and chewed slowly. Juliana was clearly a lunatic, but she was also kind—she’d come all the way across town just to try and do him a favor—and she didn’t deserve to spend the rest of her life in an unhappy marriage. If agreeing to a few harmless outings might save her from Castleton, how could James refuse? What kind of a man would let her throw her life away instead of trying to help?

  He did like helping people. It was very gallant.

  His mind made up, he swallowed the cake. “Very well,” he said. “Shall we start tomorrow?”

  EIGHTEEN

  BEFORE THE duke left on Monday afternoon, he’d asked if he might pay Juliana another call on Tuesday. Two calls in two days! Since she already had plans at one o’clock—helping James pick out some suitable gifts for Amanda—she’d suggested the duke call at noon.

  Which is how it happened that, on Tuesday, as the duke was leaving and James was arriving, they crossed paths.

  “Castleton,” James said with a curt nod.

  “Stafford,” the duke returned. And with a stiff little bow, he left.

  As the butler closed the door behind him, Juliana turned to James. “Do you not like the duke?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know him very well. But he seems a bit stuffy.”

  She was about to disagree when Aunt Frances came down the stairs, her footfalls so light she seemed almost to be skipping. A piece of paper fluttered in one of her hands. “Juliana! You’ll never believe what arrived in the morning mail!”

  “What is it, Auntie?”

  “Another love letter from my secret admirer! Only”—as she reached the foyer, she paused for dramatic effect—“his name is no longer a secret.”

  “Who is he?” Juliana crossed her fingers behind her back. “Is he anyone I know?”

  “Oh, yes,” Aunt Frances said. “It’s Lord—”

  She cut off, finally noticing James.

  Who looked more than a little intrigued.

  Two rosy spots appearing on her cheeks, her aunt clutched the letter to her bosom. “Good afternoon, Lord Stafford.”

  “Good afternoon, Lady Frances.”

  Juliana reached out to squeeze her hand. ”Who’s your admirer, Auntie? Lord Stafford will keep your secret.”

  James nodded. “My lips are sealed.”

  Though Aunt Frances hesitated a moment more, it was obvious she was dying to tell. She leaned closer to Juliana. “It’s Lord Malmsey,” she whispered, her face lit up with excitement. She looked ten years younger.

  “Aunt Frances, how wonderful!”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Clearly Frances didn’t mind Lord Malmsey’s age or appearance. In fact, by her
reaction, one would think she’d been pining after the man all her life. “I’m so glad you made plans to visit the shops this afternoon. I must order a few new dresses, and at least one must be ready by Saturday. Lord Malmsey indicated in his letter that he will be attending Lady Partridge’s ball.”

  James cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” Juliana asked.

  “I thought we were going to just quickly choose a gift?”

  “Several gifts,” she corrected.

  “Several?”

  “You’ll want an assortment so that you can give one to Lady Amanda every few days over the next two weeks.”

  ”What happens after two weeks?” He didn’t look happy.

  Juliana hated seeing anyone unhappy. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, all right?”

  When Juliana had suggested he court Amanda for a while before proposing, she’d been entirely sincere—it was just that, in this particular case, by ‘a while’ she’d meant two weeks. Which might not seem like much time, but it was all the time they had, and a lot could happen in a fortnight! James would see. Once he fell in love with Amanda, he’d want to secure her hand right away. And until then, Juliana saw no reason to cause the fellow undue stress by telling him about the time constraint.

  Or the part where he’d have to publicly compromise his future bride. He might have difficulty swallowing that requirement.

  But the power of true love would conquer all, in the end. She was sure of it.

  Juliana flashed him her most ingratiating smile. ”It shouldn’t take long for Aunt Frances to order a few dresses as well. You won’t mind, will you? She’ll be coming along in any case, to chaperone.” Though this outing with James wasn’t romantic in any sense, it wouldn’t do for the two of them to gad about town together unescorted.

  Before James could answer, a knock came at the door. The butler opened it. On the other side stood young Emily with a footman in Neville livery. And Herman, of course.

  Emily twirled her pink parasol. “Is it time to leave, Lady Juliana?”

  James took a step back. “Don’t tell me she’s coming, too.”