A Lot Like a Lady (13 page)

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In front of the townhouse, Juliet took Grey’s hand and eased out of the carriage, wincing when her first foot touched the cobblestones, and a spike of sharp pain tore through its bottom. “Oh, sweet murdering misery,” she whispered. Putting her full weight on it was sheer agony, and placing her other foot down to join it somehow made things worse. She took a step and nearly swooned when the fiery sensation raced up her legs. She was used to being on her feet long hours but never had she abused them in this manner. However did the noble folk dance so rigorously and not go lame?

Grey dipped his head and peered into her eyes, concern etched into his features. “Is something troubling you?”

But Juliet didn’t want his concern. He’d been so engaging after their first dance and while they’d partaken in refreshment, but he’d all but ignored her during the next. And then he hadn’t spoken with her for the rest of the evening, and seemed not to notice when she’d deliberately danced with Lord Michaels. Not until the young earl had requested a third had Grey paid them any mind. Then he had swooped in like some kind of falcon and announced it was time to leave.

She sighed. Not that she’d minded him swooping. Really, he’d looked quite dashing. By then her feet had been numb and her body aching with exhaustion in any case. But then he’d sat hunched on one end of the carriage seat, peering out into the darkness all the way home, a brooding expression on his face.

“M’lady?”

“Yes… no… that is, nothing troubles me, your grace.” Juliet gritted her teeth and hobbled another ginger step up the walkway toward the townhouse but another searing stab cut her feet, as if she stepped on iron spikes, not ordinary paving. She caught her breath. The front of the townhouse seemed a great distance away and the outline of the building wavered, as though she were seeing it through a pelting rain. She held her palm out.
Nope. No rain.
A giggle escaped but she clamped her mouth shut.

“There is most certainly something amiss.” Grey stood in her path.

But was his concern merely the courtesy he’d show his stepsister? Her heart cried out to him.
I’m Juliet — what about me?

She swallowed. It was the exhaustion toying with her mind. “It really is nothing to concern yourself with, your grace. My feet are a bit sore is all.”
They just feel like I’m walking over the points of hot knives with my every step. Nothing at all for you to trouble with, your grace.
Juliet gave him a smile through gritted teeth.

“Obstinate, pig-headed…” Grey leaned in, suddenly close. Far too close. Her heart stammered and her feet pulsed to the same rhythm. For some reason, her eyes fixed on his full lips. They looked soft. Were they soft? Then he swooped. Her knees lifted, followed by her shoulders, and she lay cradled in his arms.

The instant relief was heaven and she sighed. His arms tightened around her and he stepped forward.
What am I doing allowing him to carry me like this?

“Oh! Please, your grace! I-I can walk.”

Lady Charity clicked her tongue. “If you can get her to our rooms, your grace, I’ll go fetch some cool cloths.” She smiled and patted Juliet’s arm. “We’ll have you right as a fence post come the morning.”

A footman opened the door to reveal Higgins standing just inside. Juliet giggled. Perhaps he’d spent the evening waiting there just so he could see them home. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Thank you, Higgins,” she murmured. She should attempt to maintain some decorum. Difficult as that was while in the duke’s strong arms.

Grey carried Juliet through the foyer and up the stairs as though she weighed no more than one of his books. The maid, Emily, appeared as if from thin air, comforting, normal… dependable. She opened the door and hastened to the fireplace, where she stirred the glowing embers. Grey deposited Juliet on the bed and stepped back. With a gentle smile curving his lips, he crouched in front of her and lifted her right foot. She caught her breath when he slipped off her shoe.

His eyes burned into hers, deep pools of blue that glinted in the firelight. He leaned forward and Juliet wet her lips.

“Here we are.” Lady Charity arrived with some folded cloths. “Thank you, your grace.” She smiled, her tone brisk as she ushered him to the door. “My niece needs only to have some rest.”

The startled expression on Grey’s face was almost too comical, and Juliet stifled another giggle. “Yes, thank you, your grace, for seeing me safely to my bed.”

Charity gasped. “Niece!”

Emily dropped the fireplace poker with a clatter and then silence settled over the room save for the crackle of the fire. No one spoke.

Grey stared at Juliet hard, an inscrutable expression freezing his face into stony lines. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Again she’d angered him with her flippancy. Her mum was always warning her about saying the wrong things to the wrong people. She held her breath and waited for him to say something to her.

But he only drew in a long breath, held it, and expelled it, holding her gaze. Then he turned on his heel and stalked to the door.

Juliet sighed and used her toe to shove off her other shoe, then she flopped back on the bed. What on earth had come over her? Now she would have to find a way to apologize to the duke. She waited for Lady Charity to chide her.

The aunt sighed and stripped off Juliet’s stockings. When she settled the cool, wet cloths on Juliet’s aching feet, the searing heat began to ease.

“There now, dear,” whispered Charity, her voice filled with kindness. “You’ll feel better soon.” She laid another cool cloth across Juliet’s forehead.

Heaviness tugged at her eyelids. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the drink had taken her. But she’d only had a bit of wine. She hadn’t wanted any but Lady Charity had insisted it would settle her nerves. Juliet sighed. How much had she consumed? Three glasses? Four? In any case, it had seemed her glass was always full no matter how much she drank, though it hardly mattered since the drink had definitely gone to her head. With a sigh, she let her eyelids fall, hoping she’d dream of the wonderful ball.

The room whirled with a dizzying sea of blurred color, smiling faces, and lights. A cacophony of laughter and chatter drowned out the clomping of the dancers’ feet.
Juliet shook herself awake and closed the book. She hadn’t a clue what it was about, in any case. She’d borrowed it from his grace’s library and hidden herself on the window seat of the guest suite to read, but her mind kept wandering to the previous night’s festivities.

She ran a finger over the rose moiré wallpaper, tracing the edges of the watery silk-like pattern at the edge of the windowsill. The silence in the room stifled. No birdsong, no rustle of a spring breeze.

The ball had been magical. All the beautiful women in their glorious gowns of pale silks and satins, the glitter of jewels adorning the guests, and the amazing music had left her giddy. A twinge of guilt poked at her. She had no right attending such a grand party when it should have been Annabella… Then pleasure edged the guilt aside… if she never attended another event like that one for the rest of her life…

The feather-light touch of Grey’s breath against her neck when he’d draped the pearls around her throat had sparked a fire deep inside. Goose flesh rose anew at the memory of his fingers lingering after the beautiful necklace had been fastened.

Juliet’s body tingled. The intimate touch of her body against his when he’d carried her to bed… Fine trembling overtook her and she closed her eyes. If she breathed very lightly, she could smell again the woodsy musky scent that belonged to him alone.

Heat crawled upward from her neck. She could only imagine what the duke had thought of her improper behavior. It had been impossible to face him over breakfast, so she had feigned fatigue and avoided the meal. Sweet Emily, the upstairs maid, had brought her a tray with hot chocolate and toast with jam.

Juliet groaned. If only she hadn’t made such a ninny of herself.

Seated at the small tea table, Harmony glanced up from her embroidery and smiled. “Are you still not feeling well, dear?”

“Er, no, Aunt, I feel fine.” Juliet pretended to be engrossed in her book, hoping the older woman would take it as a hint that she didn’t want to talk.

“Hmm… well, you still look a bit flushed, like you might have a fever.” The needle glinted as Harmony stabbed it into the bit of linen in her lap.

“It is a bit warm in here, don’t you think?” Juliet fanned herself. Maybe they should ask for a window to be opened. “But what of you, Auntie? You were unwell last evening. Have you recovered?”

The pale spidery hand hovered over the linen for a moment before Harmony plunged the needle through the fabric. “Oh, yes.” She stifled a giggle. “I am… quite recovered now. Thank you for your concern, dear.”

Harmony pulled the pale green thread up from the bottom of the linen with a sigh. Raising her eyes, she smiled at Juliet and set the sewing hoop down on the table next to her. Then she stood and laid her hand against Juliet’s forehead. “You don’t appear to be running a fever. Perhaps you’re hungry. You did miss breakfast. I shall have Cook prepare you a snack.”

“Oh, but—” Juliet sat back with a sigh.

Harmony had already turned and started for the door. As she opened it, she let out a sharp gasp and clutched her chest. “Oh, Emily, you gave me a fright.”

The maid curtsied. “I’m very sorry, m’lady. I was sent to tell Lady Annabella his grace wishes to speak with her.”

Harmony glanced back at Juliet. “Did you hear that, dear? The duke would like to see you.”

Juliet’s heart dropped to her stomach. She slid the book to the seat next to her and stood. Her legs wobbled and she feared she wouldn’t be able to walk, so she lingered near the window. He wanted an explanation for her actions, no doubt, and she had none to give.

“Come along, then. Don’t keep his grace waiting.” Harmony stood at the doorway, merriment lighting her face.

Juliet straightened her back and puffed out her chest and then followed Emily to Grey’s study, her mind racing. In no time they stood at the door and Emily tapped.

“Enter,” came Grey’s muffled reply.

Emily gave Juliet a toothy grin and scurried down the hall. Juliet pushed opened the door and stepped inside, praying Grey wasn’t in a foul mood.

Sunlight spilled through the open draperies and brightened the study. Grey sat at his desk, straight-backed, and yet somehow affecting an air of relaxation. His wavy hair appeared tousled as though the wind had been at it, and a lock of light brown fell across his forehead as he leaned over his ledger. The crisp white shirt he wore accentuated the corded muscles of his shoulders and chest. He had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, making him look all the more unperturbed and comfortable, yet serious… not someone to be trifled with.

“You wished to see me, your grace?” Juliet cringed at the quaver in her voice and drew a deep breath to steady herself.

Grey leaned back and his chair and lifted an eyebrow. His lips curled up in a half-smile that reached his eyes and brightened them.
“Good morning, Magpie. I hope you had an enjoyable time last night. Have your feet quite recovered?”

Blistering heat crept into her cheeks and Juliet lowered her eyes, tracing an imaginary line along the angular pattern of the carpet. “Y-yes. Yes, they have. Thank you. I… would like to apologize for my behavior when we returned.”

A child’s laughter filtered through the open window and Juliet lifted her gaze. Grey regarded her from hooded eyes. The chair creaked as he leaned forward again and shuffled through the papers on his desk. “No need to apologize. You were splendid last evening. In fact, an invitation was delivered this morning.”

Juliet kept her gaze locked on Grey as she accepted the folded paper. “I-I beg your pardon, your grace. Did you say invitation?”

His eyebrows shot up and he smiled, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “Yes, Magpie, an invitation. Go on, open it.”

The folded invitation with
Lady Annabella Mary Lysandra Price
written in fine hand across the front wasn’t
for
her. Not really. Juliet made no move to open it.

“Is something wrong? You’ve gone quite pale.”

Nothing was the matter. Except Juliet’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of Annabella’s name. It did every time. She hated the constant reminder that she was deceiving everyone around her. Why had she not considered how hard it would be to pretend she was a lady of noble breeding? What would happen if anyone — if the duke found out?

And find out he would. She was no lady. And she wasn’t Annabella. Funny as it was to be called Magpie, she much preferred that to having him call her Annabella. She had come to think of the name as her own… something special between the two of them. Something not associated with Annabella at all. Just her… just Juliet. She stared at the invitation but the letters wouldn’t rearrange themselves into another name. Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids and she blinked.

Only the ticking of his clock on the mantle cut the thick silence.

Grey gently cleared his throat and angled a bemused glance. “I daresay you might find what’s inside more interesting.”

“Oh, of course.” Juliet’s hand shook as she slid her thumb under the seal to crack the wax and opened the invitation with the soft rustle of fine paper.

Lord and Lady Fenimore request your presence
at their Masquerade Ball.
Friday evening, May 7, 1813
Fenimore Hall

A sour taste rose from the pit of her stomach and pricked at her throat. It took several hard swallows before she tamped down the urge to spit. “I’m very sorry, your grace. I do not think I can attend. I—”

Grey made a cutting motion with his hand. “Nonsense. Lord and Lady Fenimore are dear friends, and I will not have them offended. I have already sent a message advising them we will be in attendance. Have your aunts take you to Madam Giselle for a proper masquerade mask and a new gown.” Grey picked up his pen and started scratching on the letter paper before him.

Oh, how easily he dismissed her. Juliet bit the inside of her lip hard, barely refraining from stomping her foot at the obstinate man. Shouldn’t she have a say in whether or not she wanted to accept an invitation that had been sent to her? Certainly she should, and she’d tell him so, too. She opened her mouth and pulled in a deep breath.

The knock on the door sucked the air from her lungs.

“Excuse me, your grace.”

“Yes, Higgins, what is it?” Grey asked without lifting his head or pausing in his work.

Higgins’ eyes flickered briefly over Juliet and she quailed. “Lord Michaels is here to see Lady Annabella. I’ve shown him to the parlor with Lady Charity.”

Grey’s head snapped up. His eyes took on a dark, almost sinister look as they burrowed into the poor butler. Then his head swiveled in Juliet’s direction, and his gaze intensified.

Juliet's mouth worked but no words would form. She had never been called on before. Should she go visit with the man? Would Grey have him shown to the study? How did one behave when receiving a gentleman caller?

She squirmed under the duke’s stare and forced her gaze over his shoulder at the sunlight flashing on the windowsill. He made no move to inform the butler of what to say to Lord Michaels, so that must mean she should go to the parlor.

“Th-thank you, Higgins.” She darted her glance to Grey.

His mouth was drawn in a tight line but he said nothing.

“If you will excuse me, your grace, I will see to our… guest?”

Grey gave a quick jerk of his head and returned his attention to the letter on his desk.

Ask me to stay
, Juliet begged, and then held her breath, praying she hadn’t said the words out loud. But he continued to write, so she followed Higgins out the door, plodding on heavy feet.

Of course he hadn't asked her to stay. He wanted her to have gentleman callers. She’d been sent to London for him to find her a suitable match.

No,
Annabella
is supposed to be seeking a husband.

When she entered the parlor, Lord Michaels stood and hurried to her side, plucking her hand from the air the moment she offered it and pressing a kiss there. “You look divine, Lady Annabella.”

She tried not to jerk her hand away. But his touch made her skin crawl, and he seemed to have no intention of releasing his hold. “That is very kind of you, Lord Michaels—”

“Please, Lady Annabella, I would be honored if you would call me James,” Lord Michaels fairly begged in a baby-soft voice.

The case clock in the corner rang the midday hour and Juliet counted the chimes.
When silence fell again, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. James. I—”

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” His own beady eyes reminded Juliet a bit of a hedgehog staring at her. “And your name is like a sonnet rolling off the tip of my tongue. Ann—a—bell—a.”

The man sang out the name slowly, in a nerve-searing manner. Why did it fall to her to entertain the insufferable fob? It would serve Annabella right if she did succeed in getting her betrothed to such a lackwit. He looked ridiculous in his buttoned coat and plum-colored trousers.

“Do have a care for my niece and let her sit, Lord Michaels,” Charity said in a reprimanding tone. Juliet said a silent prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to be alone with the man.

“I beg your pardon, m’lady.”
He dropped her hand and took her by the elbow, leading her to the small couch where he sat far too closely.

Juliet
gave him a tight smile. “Would you care for some tea? Maybe some hot chocola—”

“Lady Annabella, I would be honored if you would accompany me for a ride through the park.”
She couldn’t shift her gaze from the cravat that bobbed up and down as he spoke.

“Oh, I—”

“I shan’t take no for an answer.” Lord Michaels said, taking her hand in his again and caressing her knuckles with overly warm fingers.

Juliet’s stomach knotted, and she tugged gently but his grip only tightened.
Where was Lord Percy when she needed him?

“Your grace, how nice of you to join us,” Lady Charity said, replacing the scowl that had been on her face with a jaw-splitting grin.

Lord Michaels shot up from the couch, releasing Juliet as he did so. Her hand came away coated with sweat and she wiped it against her dress, hoping no one noticed. In the doorway, Grey stood with his feet slightly apart, his brows drawn together. Juliet swallowed hard. The dark hessians he wore hugged his calves while the skintight brown pantaloons drew attention to his muscular thighs. He’d drawn on his coat but not yet buttoned it. Even slightly rumpled, the man was dashing.
I’ll wager you don’t have sweaty hands.

His sharp gaze fell on her and
her pulse quickened.
Heat rushed to her face. Oh, for one of Charity’s fans!

“Good day, your grace,” the young lord said, bowing.

Grey gave him a curt nod and then turned to Lady Charity. “I have come to collect your niece, Lady Charity. I promised her an outing to see the sights of Town since my afternoon is free.”

An outing? What was he talking about? Juliet furrowed her brow. “You did?”
Be quiet, you ninny, he is about to rescue you from this fop!
What should
she care why he wanted to spend the afternoon with her or where he planned to take her?
As long as it is somewhere far away from Lord Michaels.

Charity’s face lit up and her eyes widened. “Why yes, dear. Do you not recall his grace saying how he would take you to the London Museum? It was all you could talk about when we returned from the ball last evening.” Charity struggled to her feet and then jerked Juliet up by the hands. “Yes, yes. Now, don’t forget your shawl as it might be chilly.” When Michaels made to stand as well, Charity placed her hand to his chest and pushed him back down. “Please do stay and visit with me, Lord Michaels. I insist you join me for some refreshment.”

Michaels blanched and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. “I, um, that is to say—”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Charity shooed Juliet toward Grey. “Now run along, dear. Don’t keep his grace waiting.”

“Please excuse me, Lord Michaels. It was very nice of you to call.” Juliet forced herself to take sedate, ladylike steps as she left the room.