by Aria Norton
He turned and mounted up, then rode off. Juliana watched him go, then mounted up and rode swiftly to the gate where Emmie waited.
“I know, I know…” she said, holding up a hand to ward off Emmie’s whistle.
“That was so delightful!” Emmie said with a grin. “He kissed you!”
“He kissed my hand,” Juliana demurred, cheeks red, stomach tingling with excitement.
“Oh! How romantic…” Emmie gushed. Juliana shoved her in the shoulder playfully and they both giggled, then raced up the path to the house.
“Girls!” Lady Baxter, their mother, said, as they almost ran into her coming through from the parlor. “Don’t run! How many times do I have to tell you…? You’re fine ladies, not village hoydens. Don’t run.” She sounded somewhat less than angry, though, and Juliana looked up at her expectantly.
“Mama…?”
“I just received a message,” their mother said when she was sure she had their full attention. She had dark brown hair, touched with white, which she wore in an elaborate up-style around her plump, smooth-cheeked face. Her skin was barely lined, and she had wide, hazel eyes that had a distant, if kindly, air. She fixed those hazel eyes on the girls. “From Lord Amerhurst.” She lifted one eyebrow, creating a sense of dramatic tension.
“Oh!” Juliana squealed with delight, earning her a pained look from her mother. “The Amerhurst ball! It’s happening!”
“Yes,” her mother said with a long-suffering sigh. “It is indeed the right time of year for Lord Amerhurst to host his annual summer ball. And we are invited!” She flourished the letter dramatically. Emmie giggled.
“Oh, Mama! How lovely! I shall wear my white gown.” She clasped her hands rapturously.
“Yes, indeed,” their mother said gently. “But you needn’t wear the gowns you have…we could have new ball gowns made up for you. There is time – it’s almost a month from now.”
“Oh, yes,” Juliana nodded, then frowned. “Mama…I don’t need a new gown. I have two perfectly good ball gowns.” She had a white and a pink one, that she had worn to every ball for the last two years.
“No, you haven’t,” Lady Baxter contradicted gently. “You have two ball gowns, both of which would be suitable for a country ball like you’d usually attend. But this is something special. All the gentry and nobility will be there. Since you do insist on not going to the season this year, this is the best chance you have for making new…acquaintances. And I insist you have the finest gowns to wear.”
“Mama…” Emmie said, then trailed off. Juliana could see how hesitant she looked, and she knew exactly what she meant. Their mother was planning to try and find them prospective people to marry.
And that means this is going to be horribly tedious. Besides, my mind is made up. She felt her stomach flutter as she thought of Lord Cale. She had always known, since she was first introduced, that she was in love with him. Since that time, the feelings had grown more complex, not less, and now she knew that she would not be happy with anyone else.
“All right! I shall have no complaints. Come upstairs now and take some refreshment. You missed tea. I had Mrs. Haywell leave out a trolley of tea and sandwiches for you.”
“Hurray! I’m famished,” Emmeline said, grinning at Juliana before they both walked briskly up the stairs. Emmeline had a simple outlook on life – she liked music, riding, sewing and food. With those, plus family and friends, she seemed perfectly content. Juliana sometimes wished she could have such a sweet, easy nature.
I have to be so impetuous and risk-seeking.
She pushed aside thick strands of hair that had tumbled down from her up-style and hurried to follow Emmeline into the drawing room.
When they had finished tea, Juliana and Emmeline retired to their bedchambers. They were next to each other, and, as it happened, they spent very little of their time isolated in their chambers – both of them spent most of their time in the boudoir, sitting on the chaise lounge by the window to talk.
“What do you think about this ball?” Emmie asked, leaning back on the cream silk chaise lounge. Juliana, sitting opposite on a stool, shrugged.
“I think it could be diverting. And it’ll have good music…Lord Amerhurst always makes sure he has a fine quartet.”
Emmie grinned. “There is that, yes. And you’re right. Just because Mama is being a bit…strict…about things, doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy it.”
“Yes,” Juliana agreed carefully, “it doesn’t.”
They knew each other so well that there was no need for words. Emmie knew that Juliana was in love with Lord Cale, and also that their mother might not approve of him. There had been some scandal in his past – his true father, Lord Lowford, had been involved in some scandalous business that the girls didn’t really know about. It meant that Lady Baxter eyed him in a somewhat-jaundiced light, and they knew that, if she could, she’d be trying to introduce them to a wider circle of men at the ball at Amerhurst Hall.
“Well,” Juliana said with a weak smile, “I suppose it can’t be too bad. After all – this is the countryside. I don’t think we’ll meet anyone new here.”
Emmeline smiled and Juliana grinned and then stared into the fire, wondering what would happen at the ball. She was sure there would be nobody there that they didn’t know ten times over from balls at Amerhurst: after all, it was the country, and nobody new was likely to be there.
Chapter 2
“Dash it, Arnott…there’s nobody here!” Thomas complained, brushing a strand of sandy hair out of one eye. He was sweltering in his frock-coat and breeches, and he could feel sweat trickling down his back. He turned to look at his friend, who raised one eyebrow. They were standing in the middle of a country hall at a ball Thomas didn’t want to attend.
“Nonsense, Thomas…there’s such a crowd here that it’s no wonder we’re sweltering to death,” Arnott said mildly.
Thomas shot him a look. It was, he thought tensely, Arnott’s fault that he was here in the beginning. Nobody else could have come up with a plan as wild as this one. Why Arnott thought the ideal place to meet eligible ladies was some village ball in the back of beyond he had no idea. Now, he nodded grimly.
“You’re right there. I can’t complain about the lack of people.”
There were people of all description in the hall at Amerhurst Heights: military people, gentle landowners and the local nobility, all crowded into a hall that he wouldn’t have thought was big enough for twenty-five guests. It seemed no larger than the biggest room in his father’s townhouse in London.
“As you said,” Arnott said mildly, “and all of them are speechless with rapture at having a peer of the realm in their midst.”
Thomas shot Arnott a hard look, but Arnott just raised his brow again and ignored him. Thomas, son of the Duke of Amerly, hated anyone referring to his title. He hated even more the thought that Arnott might be right. If his father wasn’t a duke, the local gentry probably wouldn’t have accepted him so readily. After all, every person in the world was a little suspicious of strangers.
And because Papa is a powerful duke, they all stare at me and whisper behind their hands as if I was some sort of show at the Opera House.
He sighed. If there was one thing he wished, it was for someone to meet him who didn’t really care about his heir-of-duke status. He would have given a great deal to meet someone who would treat him like just somebody ordinary.
“Oh!” a woman exclaimed, following a sharp pain in Thomas’ foot that made him gasp aloud. “Oh! So sorry! I didn’t see you there…”
Thomas found himself staring into wide green eyes. He forgot for the moment that the woman had stood on his foot, and felt the most peculiar sensation wash through his heart. He bowed gallantly.
“My Lady, no cause to alarm yourself, I assure you. My foot is quite unhurt, and I apologise to you…I should not have been standing in the door like that.”
“Oh. You weren’t in the way…” she said, trailing off as she strai
ghtened up and looked at him. They both stared at each other, and Thomas had the peculiar sensation that he was falling into those green eyes, that his world was narrowing to contain only them and the sweet face that observed him.
A noise drew his attention sharply away. Beside him, Arnott was standing stiffly upright like he was on parade, black hair stark against wide dark eyes. Thomas wondered what had possessed his friend, and glanced sideways. Then he, too, stared.
“There are two of you!” he exclaimed, dark eyes stretched wide, then went bright red as the two young ladies giggled aloud.
He stared in amazement. There were indeed two of them – two oval, pretty faces looked up at him, their hair identically curled and dark brown, their lips pale roses, their hands tapered where they stood with them clasped or pressed to their lips. Their eyes struck him – like wide green rivers, they drew him in and drowned his heart.
“Yes, there are two of us,” one of the young ladies said directly, holding him with that green gaze that astounded him. “I am Juliana, and this is my sister, Lady Emmeline.”
“Oh,” Thomas said, taking a breath and trying to recover his senses. “Yes. I am Lord Thomas. I am delighted to meet you.” He bowed low. Beside him, Arnott was still transfixed, as if he had seen Napoleon materialising in the hallway and marching in to conquer them all. He bumped him with his toe in the ankle and Arnott bowed deeply, almost knocking his head on the refreshments table beside him.
“My ladies, I’m honored,” he murmured.
Thomas ignored him. “You are from Amerhurst and surroundings?” he asked, then realised that probably sounded rude. “I mean…”
“We’re from Baxley,” the young lady who had introduced herself as Juliana said. “We’re the daughters of the Earl of Baxter. He’s over there,” she added candidly, gesturing at a rather elegant gentleman in a wig on the other side of the ballroom from them.
“I see,” Thomas said automatically. He still felt confused and bewildered, and it was only when the two young ladies had disappeared – both turning away to speak to someone or other and becoming lost in the crowd – that he could think again.
“What just happened?” Arnott murmured distantly.
“I have no idea,” Thomas admitted.
He stood by the wall, looking around the hall and hoping to get a glimpse of two heads of brown hair. As it happened, though, the hall was too crowded and there were too many people with brown hair for him to be able to spot a particular two from his vantage point.
“I say,” Arnott murmured to himself. He seemed quite in shock, and Thomas decided to wait while he pulled himself together. He looked out over the ballroom and tried, somewhat ineffectively, to calm his nerves.
Thomas had been persuaded to come here with Arnott – who had an uncle in these parts – for the pursuit of the charge his father had laid on him: to wed. He had not thought seriously about the topic, if he was honest with himself – he had attended so many seasons in London and met nobody who took his interest. He had absolutely not expected to meet anyone here.
And now he had.
He stared out over the ballroom, looking for the sweet sisters.
The ballroom was indeed crowded but he noticed people starting to step back and clear a space and, a moment later, music drifted deliciously over the hall, silencing the murmur of voices. It was a waltz, and it gave Thomas new determination.
He was going to ask one of the earl’s daughters to dance.
He watched the dancefloor, and was delighted to see one of them stepping out for a measure. It was Juliana – he remembered that she had been wearing a yellow gown. She was dancing with a tall young fellow and he was amazed by the lilting grace of her movements – as amazed as he was by her lively laughter and the way she seemed to be keeping up a conversation.
She is so full of liveliness and so direct!
Thomas, despite his rank and the deference others paid to it, found it hard to meet new people. If someone was direct and honest, his standoffishness was a little easier to manage. With Juliana, he felt it would take about five minutes to get to know each other.
And that was something new, and exciting.
He watched her dance, laughing and giggling all the while. As soon as he had a chance, he was going to find her father. Then he was going to dance with Lady Juliana.
Chapter 3
Juliana finished her turn on the dancefloor and stepped off, looking up with a slightly breathless smile, thinking only of Lord Cale, who held her hand. Lord Cale took a step back and bowed to her.
“My Lady, that was a sight to see.”
Juliana blushed, “You flatter me, Lord Cale.”
“Yes.”
His eyes twinkled and she shoved him playfully, while both of them giggled. Her skin flushed with warm colour even as she teased him about his comment.
“You’re supposed to deny it, you silly,” she teased. “It’s your chance to say no, you’re not flattering, since nothing could possibly be flattery for so fine a lady.”
He laughed. “Well, it did cross my mind. But I wasn’t about to mention it,” he said gallantly.
Juliana felt tingles down her spine and she could not keep the grin from lifting her lips at the corners.
“Well, you did now.”
He nodded. “Yes... would you care to go to the terrace?” he asked. His blue eyes glowed, his voice holding the full knowledge that he had asked something not quite proper.
Juliana swallowed hard. “You think we would be allowed to…?” she gestured at her parents, who were over near the side door. Lord Cale shrugged.
“With about a hundred people here, I really think that nobody could accuse us of being alone outside. There are already twenty couples out there, I reckon, and we couldn’t find a moment by ourselves should we wish to.”
Juliana blushed. She looked up at him and he smiled and there was something that made her shiver in that smile. She walked with him through the room, wanting to be alone with him even though she knew it was salacious even to think it.
“It’s not too bad here,” Lord Cale commented, leading her between the couples who had already moved out into the cool air. The terrace was wide and quiet, the big stone rails affording a nice place to lean and look out over the green, damp garden. Dew glittered on the lawn and the scent of damp air wafted up to them, offering a sweet contrast to the stuffiness indoors.
“No, it isn’t,” Juliana agreed. “Not too crowded. And it’s cooler.”
“It is indeed,” he said. “Which is quite a relief.”
“Yes.”
They spoke quietly, though nobody could have overheard them. They were at the railing of the terrace and Juliana had her arms bent, bracing her weight on the rail. She could feel the warmth of Lord Cale’s arm through his shirt, warming her bare skin, he stood so close. She shivered, and distracted herself from thoughts of him by looking across at the trees on the other side of the garden.
“A fine estate.”
“Yes.”
Neither of them was speaking about anything important, and Juliana knew why – they were both acutely aware of each other and knew that if they had even turned to look at each other, they would have kissed. She felt a pulse jumping in her throat. What would that be like? She cast a glance at his thin lips, wishing she had any idea of what it might feel like to feel a kiss on her lips. The thought enraptured her.
