“And what title, pray tell, is worthy of such a simper? Would a baron or a viscount suffice?”
It was her turn to laugh. “Surely you jest. I could not possibly simper for anything less than a duke.”
“What! Not even for a marquess?”
“Perhaps, though it would entirely depend on the marquess. Does he have good fortune?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.
“Come, let us sit. And I should have you know that I have it on good authority that the Marquess of Glastonbury has gambled away his fortune entirely and lives only on the kindness of his friends.”
She winced a little, as she allowed herself to be seated on a marble bench tucked neatly in a bower of roses. The scent was overwhelming to the point of being somewhat unpleasant. Her hands started shaking while she smoothed at her skirts. “So, you have a dislike then, for men who gamble their fortunes away?”
“I find gambling a foolish pastime at best, and an intensely damaging one at worst. The Marquess of Glastonbury hurts no one with his actions, he is an old man with no heirs. His estate is entailed to a man who was last heard from in the colonies. What matters if he spends his dotage on the sufferance of his friends, who enjoy his stories. But there are men who have brought their entire families to ruination at the gaming tables. This behavior cannot be as easily forgiven.”
Nor should it. Her uneasiness returned. One hand went to the rosette along the high waist of her dress, adjusting the ribbons so that they lay properly. “You sound like you have experience in this regard,” she said softly, turning her head to look at him in the soft glow of the nearby lantern.
He shook his head. “Forgive me. I daresay it would be best if we returned inside after all. I fear I’m not good company tonight.” He rose and offered her his hand.
It was her turn to protest. “I have only just sat. Please…I am loath to end this conversation on such a poor note.”
“I have no idea why I spoke as I did.” He settled himself again next to her. The light was behind him, and she could not see his eyes. But the slope of his shoulders, his entire posture seemed to speak of private torture. Her heart went out to this stranger, and she found herself reaching, laying her hand gently on his arm.
She felt the bunched muscle beneath the cloth. The tension absolutely radiating from his body. “Sometimes,” she said carefully, “it is easier to talk to a stranger in the dark, then to a friend in the light.”
“But there is light,” he half turned, smiling to point at the lantern behind him.
She too twisted, but only to survey the garden itself and the other couples therein. But they’d disappeared. They were perhaps serving dinner already. It was hard to gauge how much time had passed while they’d walked, saying nothing. But it suited her purposes that they were so alone.
The bower was private, secluded. They would not be seen easily from the house. So, she rose, and with more daring than she’d ever thought to possess, she slipped over to the lantern and extinguished the light.
He gasped dramatically.
“Oh hush,” she muttered, coming to sit next to him again. “I will remind you that I am a lady and expect to be treated as such. One untoward action and I shall scream.”
He was gentleman enough to point out that even with the windows open, between the music and the conversation, she would hardly be heard. All the same, she felt no fear as she settled her skirts about her.
“It is strange now, trying to think what to say,” she murmured, looking up through the branches, trying to see the stars. But there were still too many lights from the house. She gave up and turned to face him, gratified to see in the semi-darkness that he was smiling. “Odd that you look more content now than you have since I have met you.”
“Perhaps because we have found a way to run away.”
There was a wistful note to his voice. She looked away, finding it easier to talk without seeing him. He left her unsettled, but in a way, she couldn’t define. Perhaps she was rather liking this time out of time? There was a certain hint of danger to this act. They would create a scandal if caught, despite how innocent their conversation.
“What are you running away from?” she asked into the quiet.
“Family. Duty. Responsibility. The need to find a wife. A fact all those around like to remind me of regularly.”
Her hands bunched in her skirts. “I am afraid of marrying,” she said softly.
Thankfully he did not laugh, though she’d half expected him to. “It is not an unusual thing for a woman… of maidenly virtue… to be… a little fearful…” he finally said, though his words seemed strained, with unnatural pauses between.
She glanced at him in surprise. “Are you blushing, my lord?”
“And you are not?”
They stared at one another and laughed.
“Truly, that part of things does not concern me overmuch. It is more the who of marrying that frightens me. I am told…” she faltered here but pressed on regardless. “I am told to marry for money and title. My sisters and I have been raised thus, but while they embrace their lot, I find myself…hesitant.”
“You are a romantic then?”
“My dearest friend in the whole world is marrying at the end of the season. This is her house, her ball tonight. I see her with her betrothed, and never have I witnessed such happiness. When she speaks of him, her entire being seems to light from within. And when they are apart, she experiences that separation with her entire being.”
“You wish to experience such misery?”
He was laughing at her. She swatted at his arm. “You are a cad. You know precisely of what I am speaking. I wish to experience all of it. The joy, the sadness. To love fully is to live fully. How then is one supposed to experience such a thing when wed to a stranger?” It was her turn to sigh. “But enough…this was to be your conversation with a stranger, not mine. What burdens do you carry that leave such a sadness in your eyes?”
“You have noticed my eyes then?” he asked in amusement, half-turning to look at her.
Juliana blushed. “I have noticed everything about you, sir. That you like to tease. That you enjoy laughing and laugh much, but that the laughter covers a deeper pain. But perhaps that is the way of many of us. We learn to cover the pain the best we can, to put our best face forward. It is what society expects.”
“Yet, you hide not at all. I see many truths in your eyes, there for the taking,” he said, and there was a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Not with you. Oddly enough, I do not think I could hide from you.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have said it, but in a sense, she had been caught in her own trap. Maybe it was too easy to be honest when sitting in the dark with a stranger.
“Perhaps because I give you no reason to hide.” He was smiling as he spoke, looking at her as though he enjoyed being with her in the same way she enjoyed being with him.
With the moonlight in his hair and the way the lights reflected in his eyes, she found herself thinking new thoughts. Thoughts about what it would be like to be held, to be kissed by such a man.
It was unsettling. For the first time in her life, she understood why young ladies were cautioned against being alone in such intimacy with someone else.
This was new territory. She had no idea what to say. Thankfully she was spared answering. Over his shoulder, she saw her sisters framed in the doorway. Looking for her.
“I need to go. Please…wait before returning.”
But she could not leave like that — not without acknowledging their time together. “Thank you. I enjoyed our walk very much,” she said quietly and fled back across the grass to the ball and the duty that lay beyond those doors.
Chapter 3
I should not have done that. To have allowed such intimacy with a stranger. I actually blew out the lantern…what was I thinking?
All the way across the grass she scolded herself. She’d acted highly improper, but never had Juliana felt such elation, such delight in the c
ompany of a man. Nor was it likely she would ever again, once he found out who she was. For he hated men who gambled.
And her father lived — notoriously — at the gaming tables.
Heartbroken, she climbed the steps out of breath, knowing she must look a sight, her skirts caught and snagged several times on the roses in passing.
“Juliana! Where have you been? Father wanted to make an announcement at dinner.” Lucinda, the eldest was shrill in her disapproval. “Susanne said she left you here an hour ago!”
Has it only been an hour? Her life had somehow changed so significantly in such a short time. “I pray you forgive me, Luci dearest. I got to walking and started daydreaming. I daresay the time got away from me.”
It was enough truth for them. Indeed, the whole night had the feeling of a dream now, especially in the cold light of the ballroom. Had it always been so overly bright and glaring? She brushed at her skirts, removing the worst of the dirt, and prayed that no one would notice the small tear at the hem. Then she linked her arm through Melanie’s, knowing Lucinda would only shake her off.
Adroitly she changed the subject. “Has it been two weeks since we’ve seen each other? I thought for sure you would be at that concert Thursday last. My how that pale green suits you, Melanie…is that new? You both look so wonderful. Now tell me what Papa is on about. You said an announcement?”
Her disjointed babbling seemed to deflect easily enough any curiosity about her. Melanie blushed under the praises, but then she was always the quiet one of the group, following Lucinda’s lead in all things with a blind devotion that had never left room for Juliana in their midst.
“I think you will find it a pleasant surprise,” Lucinda said and took her other arm so that they could walk into the dining room together. It was such a rare sign of sisterly affection, and Juliana smiled with a true joy she’d not felt in a long time.
Her sisters customarily held themselves somewhat aloof from her, and now here they welcomed her into their circle. Perhaps absence did indeed grow a certain amount of affection. “I was gone only a fortnight,” she teased as they paused in the doorway.
“A lot changes in a fortnight.” She waved to someone unseen. “Father! Here we are!”
Their group was still in the process of finding their seats. Juliana was pleased to discover she had not been gone for as long as she’d feared.
She searched the crowd and wondered where her stranger had gone. Even with his lack of fondness for these affairs, he would have at least come to table. She ran her eyes over those seated, being curious who he was and hoping she would see him again. As it was, she missed the arrival of her father entirely with another gentleman who she knew only too well.
“Good evening, daughter.”
“Papa.” She disliked his companion but nodded to him all the same, cold and polite.
Cecil Huntington eyed her wolfishly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with the exaggerated courtly manner he so often adopted. Juliana would have recoiled entirely had it not been for her sisters holding her in so close. She’d hated Cecil since he’d started coming around. The way he looked at her left her feeling pawed over with his eyes.
And she knew for a fact that he was at the root of the rumors. It could have been only him, for her father gambled at Cecil’s tables, losing heavily on occasion. She suspected he pressured her father into a forced repayment for some sum owed. Such was the problem with rumors; too often they were bounded with truth.
She withdrew her hand, and turned to her father, still curious as to his announcement. He seemed distracted and on edge. Something was amiss.
“Papa?” The excitement of her sisters, the way her father looked at her, at once tragic and triumphant…it all was coming together. A dreadful suspicion formed in her head. This announcement then…
She tried to pull free, suddenly needing to run, to be out of there, but her sisters held her fast, Lucinda delivered a sharp pinch out of sight of the gathering crowd.
“Stay still.” The words came through the gritted teeth of a smile so well-practiced as to seem sincere.
But surely her father wouldn’t — not with her own mother not even in attendance, but still home, ill and hiding from the impending scandal.
It all came together with sharp clarity. Cecil, her father’s look, her sisters’ satisfaction. The cryptic letter from Melanie. The rumors had all been true then, and she was being…sold…to pay her father’s debts. And very likely to fund her sisters’ dowries, that they might snare for themselves a mate with both title and fortune. It was she — the youngest — who could be married to a second son and sacrificed for the family good.
“I will not. Father, do you hear me, I will not!”
It was impossible to fight in whispers, but she dared not call attention to the scene. While the rest of the table settled for the first course, their particular grouping had yet to be seated, and curious looks were already cast in their direction. She could see Susanne watching her, a frown of concern on her face. But Susanne’s father knew it was written plainly upon his face. This announcement came with his blessing.
Cornelius rose, and silence fell upon the room. He made the proper noises, the thanks, the compliments. Juliana heard none of it. Everything seemed to be coming from a long distance. She became dimly aware that her father was being bid to speak, for he stepped forward and bowed to the assembly.
Juliana looked wildly from one sister to the other. She recognized their determination in the set of their chins and in the grip that kept her between them. She was going to faint. Or if she were fortunate, expire on the spot, for Cecil was an evil man. She felt the malignancy coming off of him in waves; the satisfaction he felt in obtaining her thusly.
“It is with great pleasure, that I announce the joining of Birks to Huntington. Two houses, nobly appointed, united under one banner. Truly this is an auspicious moment. I hereby announce the betrothal of Miss Juliana Birks of Cobham to —”
“to myself, Martin Huntington, Duke of Brandon.”
It was the stranger, arrived suddenly to take her hand, to draw her from her sisters’ grasp, pulling her into his arms in front of the entire assembly. She lifted her face to his, trying to make sense of it all.
He spoke out of the side of his mouth, smiling and nodding in the sudden, startled applause. “Smile. Do not faint. I have this. That’s right, look pleased for God’s sake if you can manage it.”
Across the room Susanne looked absolutely delighted, clutching at the arm of her betrothed and talking excitedly in his ear. Around her was a sea of faces, with varying looks of surprise, not the least from her own family. Her father seemed dazed, her sisters wavering between furious and flummoxed. She had stolen a march on them, taking the most eligible man there.
Her stranger was the elusive Duke of Brandon?
His arm around her was strong, sure, as he guided her to the table. He approached the lady who had been given the honor of the place at his side, and asked, “I expect that given the circumstance, we could perhaps rearrange your seating chart a little?”
Her hand was still on his sleeve, his arm still around her. She glanced up at him, still fighting tears, still horribly unsure of what had just happened. “You…?”
Her eyes met his and saw only fury there. To all outward appearance, he was the delighted betrothed, but she felt the tremble in the arm that held her.
“We will talk later. Can you get through this without becoming a simpering fool?”
Simpering? Her chin came up and met his gaze square as he seated her. Her smile for him was genuine. Whatever he had done, he had done it for her. She would carry this farce through to the end.
Chapter 4
He had acted impulsively. But as Martin sat next to the girl and saw the way she lifted her chin and accepted the congratulations of those seated near to her, he reluctantly had to admire both her spirit and her grace after all.
This was the girl who had captured his attention in the gard
en. When she blew out the lantern so they might sit and talk in the dark, he had seen rare courage and a certain recklessness, which was refreshing. Far too many aforementioned simpering maidens clung to every convention as though their very lives depended upon it.
No, this young woman was a rare find, both daring and with a questioning mind. She was one he wanted very much to know better.
Martin glanced at her while the first course was served. She ate with grace and quiet manners, taking only a few mouthfuls of the soup before allowing the dish to be taken away. Her face was still a bit pale, though she spoke with her neighbor readily enough. From their conversation, he gathered she previously knew the elderly gentleman.
As they waited for the next course to be served, he leaned toward her, touching her hand lightly to draw her attention. It was perhaps an untoward action, but he was emboldened.
“I take it you know Lord Wilburton well?”
“He is a cousin on my mother’s side of the family.” Juliana smiled with fond reminiscence. “He gave me my first pony.” Martin saw, for the first time a glimmer of light returning to her eyes.
She was recovering admirably from the shock, for indeed it had been plain to see she was by no means expecting the announcement that so nearly happened. He had seen her captured — what else could he call such an action on the part of her sisters — and had been on his way to see if he could assist in a rescue when she was taken thus to the dining room.
It was a small miracle he was standing so close when her father spoke.
“So, you ride then?” Martin asked, wanting to see more of this lovely smile he had seen so briefly before. For that matter, there was not a thing he hadn’t enjoyed about her, though he never could have said he was partial to red hair — until tonight.
Her vibrant locks, arranged so carefully upon her head in gentle curls and cascades captured him now and he had the single daring thought of wondering what it would be like to see it down.
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