Juliana (22 page)

“Lovely!” Lady Stafford set the tart on a marble side table. “We shall serve it after dinner.”

“What a beautiful chess set,” Juliana said, amused by Amanda’s fascination. “Roman gladiators, aren’t they? Do the pieces date back to that time?”

“No, they look much newer,” Amanda said. “And besides, chess isn’t that old. It wasn’t invented until after the Empire fell.”

“My father-in-law commissioned the set to be carved.” Lady Stafford lifted a crystal decanter. “Would you care for some sherry?”

“Just a little, please.” Juliana took the first glass she poured and perched herself on a pale green satin love seat with gilt palm tree legs that had obviously been designed to match the room. “Thank you so much for inviting us to your home.”

“It’s my pleasure, though this is my son’s home, in truth,” Lady Stafford said, handing Amanda another glass.

That son walked into the room with the duke, the two of them deep in conversation. Juliana was thrilled to see they were becoming friends already. She smoothed the skirts of her white dress, which she’d chosen hoping the duke would think it proper and ladylike.

Very virtuous
, as James had said.

Sipping sherry, Amanda sat beside her. “He’s so much taller,” she whispered.

James
was
much taller than the duke. Which was why he and Amanda looked so good together.

“And darker,” Amanda added.

Yes, James was dark. The duke looked pale in comparison. Pale and ashen-haired. But only in comparison. And Juliana preferred lighter hair.

“And
much
more handsome.”

“It isn’t polite to whisper,” Juliana whispered back. She didn’t want to think about James being much more handsome. And it wasn’t true, anyway.

Was it?

“Good evening, ladies,” James said in his low and chocolate-smooth voice.

“Good evening,” the duke said in his perfectly normal voice. He smiled at Juliana. “It’s lovely to see you again, my dear.”

Well, why should a voice matter, anyway? The duke was a
duke
. And it was obvious he cared for her, even if he hadn’t touched her. Yet.

A footman appeared in the doorway and announced dinner. Lord Cavanaugh offered Lady Stafford his arm. “Shall we?”

The rest of them followed the older couple into a large formal dining room. The extra leaves had been removed from the mahogany table to make it an oval for six. While a footman drew back Juliana’s chair, she took a moment to look around. The dining room featured Roman-looking marble columns, a beautiful Turkey carpet, and a carved marble fireplace. But the most impressive thing was the ceiling, a scalloped design with round inset panels representing classical scenes, all decorated in gold.

“The ceiling is exquisite,” she said as she sank onto her forest green velvet seat.

“My late husband’s pride and joy.” Lady Stafford sat, too. “It was based on a ceiling in the Baths of Augustus in Rome.”

Gazing up at it, Amanda sighed. “This is the most magnificent house I’ve ever seen. Everything in it is absolutely splendid.” She turned to James beside her. “You have wonderful taste, Lord Stafford.”

His mother laughed. “The taste was his grandfather’s. The man hired the venerable Henry Holland as his designer. Were it up to my son, he’d probably sell the whole lot and use the money to vaccinate every last soul in England.”

James frowned. “The value of the house and its contents wouldn’t begin to cover—”

“I was jesting,” Lady Stafford broke in with fond exasperation. “I trust you not to sell off the family treasures.”

Juliana saw an opportunity to segue into a matter she’d hoped to discuss. “If others would help with Lord Stafford’s cause,” she said as asparagus soup was served in porcelain bowls with gold Stafford crests on their crimson rims, “there would be no need to sell anything.” Lifting her spoon, which was gold, too, she turned to the duke. “Eradicating smallpox is a worthy goal that all should contribute towards, don’t you think?”

“All?” The duke raised his own gold spoon. “Worthy or not, I don’t expect everyone can afford to donate.”

“Certainly
you
can,” she said sweetly.

She thought she heard choking sounds from James. Or maybe a muffled chortle.

Lord Cavanaugh took a sip of wine. “I’d be pleased to contribute.”

“Thank you very much,” James said with an expression of startled approval. “That would be greatly appreciated.”

Lady Stafford looked quite delighted.

Amanda turned a smile on James. “I should like to contribute, too,” she said prettily, “but alas, I shall need to ask my father for the funds.”

Knowing Amanda’s father, Juliana suspected he wouldn’t donate a penny. And she was sure Amanda knew that, too. “Time is also valuable,” she said. “You could volunteer your assistance instead of money.”

Amanda blinked and pressed a hand to her pale blue muslin bodice. “Are you suggesting I give smallpox vaccinations?”

“No, of course not. Doctors give the vaccinations. But I imagine there are other tasks you could do that would prove helpful.”

“Certainly,” James put in, setting down his spoon, which Juliana had decided was actually sterling plated in gold, because, really, solid gold spoons were a little much, even for people as rich as the Staffords. “There are always new supplies arriving that need to be unpacked and arranged on the shelves behind the counter, and schedules to be made out in a hand neater than mine, and treatment rooms to be cleaned, and—”

“You’d like me to clean rooms?” Amanda interrupted. She pinned Juliana with a pointed gaze. “Are you going to volunteer, too, then?”

In truth, Juliana hadn’t a clue why she’d suggested Amanda volunteer in the first place. She certainly didn’t expect her to clean treatment rooms—she doubted her friend had cleaned anything in her life, with the possible exception of her own teeth. But something about Amanda’s disingenuous offer of money had rubbed her the wrong way.

And now she’d backed herself into a corner. “I’d be happy to volunteer,” Juliana found herself saying. She lifted her chin. She did like helping people, and while she was quite busy sewing baby clothes, she imagined she could spare a little time. “As I said, it’s a worthy cause.”

“Capital!” James exclaimed so enthusiastically she half expected him to break into applause. “How about Wednesday at one o’clock?”

“She can’t,” Amanda said. “She has a sewing party every Wednesday at one.”

Drat. “I’ll move this week’s party to tomorrow.”

“Sewing party?” Lady Stafford asked.

“Lady Juliana supports many worthy causes,” Amanda said. “She’s making baby clothes for the Foundling Hospital.”

Juliana had a sudden thought. “It might be a good idea,” she suggested to James, “for you to vaccinate the foundlings.”

“I already do,” he said, which made her beam in approval. “I visit there twice every year.”

Lady Stafford looked to Juliana. “Do you need more help sewing the baby clothes, dear? I’d be pleased to attend your party tomorrow.”

“That would be wonderful,” Juliana said.

And it was. But she spent the rest of dinner wondering how it happened that she’d ended up volunteering to help at the Institute when she’d suggested Amanda do so, and Lord Cavanaugh had ended up donating money when she’d asked that of the duke.

Maybe she was losing her touch.

AFTER DINNER,
when the ladies would usually have left the gentlemen alone with their port, Lady Stafford suggested they all adjourn to the Palm Room instead. While the men poured and Lady Stafford busied herself serving the apple and orange tart, Amanda drew Juliana into the alcove at the back of the room.

“Can you
believe
this house?” she whispered, her eyes sparkling at last. “Is it not the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen?”

Juliana’s gaze wandered the gold palm fronds, the gold and crystal chandeliers, the gold-trimmed ceiling. “There’s a lot of gold.”

Smiling, Amanda nodded. “Even the silverware is gold.”

“It’s sterling plated in gold,” Juliana informed her.

“Regardless. What’s truly amazing is all the antiquities. They make the terracotta pots and glass flasks my father’s uncovered look like so much rubbish.” Her whisper dropped even lower. “I want to marry Lord Stafford.”

The words Juliana had been waiting to hear. But her friend’s sudden change of heart was…well, it was very sudden. “You cannot marry for antiquities,” she whispered back, fearing Amanda was making this decision for all the wrong reasons. “I would hope you would like the young man more than his possessions.”

“Oh, I do. I’ve decided you’re right. My wedding is drawing ever closer, and Lord Stafford and I suit well. We’re compatible. He likes chess, and he’s clearly interested in all things Roman. Maybe my father was right—maybe there are more important considerations than love. Besides, you said I will learn to love Lord Stafford, and I believe you.”

Amanda
sounded
sincere, Juliana thought. Perhaps she should put aside her fears and just be relieved her friend was finally choosing an appropriate gentleman. They did share common interests, and they looked excellent together, and Amanda would make a good doctor’s wife. It was unfortunate they hadn’t the luxury to get to know each other leisurely, but the two of them had been destined to fall in love from the first. She’d said so all along, hadn’t she?

She
was
relieved, she decided.

In fact, she was thrilled. How could she not be thrilled? With the possible exception of civilizing young Emily, all of her projects were progressing perfectly!

Lord Malmsey and Aunt Frances were getting along swimmingly. Indeed, at the ball last night, Juliana would swear she’d seen their aging eyes glittering with the fire of new love. Now that Lord Malmsey would no longer be obligated to wed Amanda, they would surely live happily ever after.

The duke seemed to be getting on with James and Amanda, which meant that after Juliana married him, she could remain friends with James. She and the duke would have to fall in love before marrying, of course—but maybe they were in love already! After all, how was a girl with her lack of experience supposed to know? And in any case, love was bound to happen soon. The duke cared for her, and he needed her. On the surface, he was perfect—everything she’d been looking for in a young man—but inside, he was hurt. With her help, he was going to learn to be affectionate and more charitable. And she was going to be a duchess! Her grace, Juliana, the Duchess of Castleton.

The name had a lovely ring to it, did it not?

And on top of all of that good news, it looked as though she’d managed to match Lady Stafford with Lord Cavanaugh, even though she’d only meant for them to enjoy a dance.

Clearly she wasn’t losing her touch, after all.

Lady Stafford came into the alcove and handed Juliana and Amanda each a crested plate with a slice of the tart and a gold fork. “Your great-grandmother’s recipe is delicious,” she gushed. “Thank you so much for making and bringing it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Juliana said, following her back to the main part of the room. Plate in hand, the duke wandered into the alcove and began chatting with Amanda. The tart was promoting new friendships already!

Lady Stafford seated herself on a chair covered in pale green satin with a palm tree design worked into the fabric. Lord Cavanaugh took the chair nearest hers. James was already sitting on the love seat, attacking a slice of tart. There were six more palm tree-decorated chairs and four matching stools, but Juliana sat on the love seat by James, even though she knew that place should be reserved for Amanda.

It would be for but a moment. She had something very important to discuss.

James didn’t seem to find anything amiss with her sitting beside him. In fact, he shifted to face her, which put him rather too close. “This tart is excellent,” he said. “Did you make it?”

“Of course,” she said, trying to scoot a little to the side. Apparently the love seat was too small to share with a person of his size. “Your mother is getting along very well with Lord Cavanaugh, isn’t she?”

“She seems to be, yes.”

“They seem perfect for each other. His title even begins with
C
.”

“
C
?”

“Like her sisters, don’t you see? Aurelia is Lady Avonleigh, Bedelia is Lady Balmforth, and your mother would be—“

“Cornelia, Lady Cavanaugh. Yes, I see.” Looking amused, he swallowed another bite. “But I should think there are more important things for a couple to share than matching names.”

“Of course there are,” she said, pleased to hear he agreed that couples should have things in common. “They should share interests—for example, chess and antiquities. And in your case especially, I should think you would want a wife who isn’t disturbed by the presence of blood.”

“I’m not a surgeon,” he said patiently, “and I don’t believe in bleeding patients. Nor would I expect a wife to assist me with my practice. So there’s virtually no chance she would have to deal with blood.”

That was a relief. For Amanda, of course—no lady should have to endure the sight of gore. “James…”