Juliana (45 page)

“Yes, and she’s ill and no doubt sleeping soundly, and her bedroom is way down the hall.” When she planted her feet and stopped their forward progress, he reversed direction and tugged her back into the corridor. “See? That very last door. She won’t hear a thing.”

Juliana wondered just what sort of
thing
he had in mind.

She blushed furiously and took another gulp of port.

It
was
a very long corridor, she had to concede. She’d noticed a door inside James’s bedroom, which probably led to a sitting room or a dressing room. Or both. Doubtless his study was on the other side of those, and then his mother’s dressing room before her bedroom, and maybe a sitting room for her besides. And perhaps some guest rooms in between. Stafford House was enormous.

But all of that was beside the point. “We cannot be alone in this room with your mother sleeping down the hall. Or even if your mother wasn’t home. Not before we’re married. It’s not the thing, James—it’s highly improper.”

“You’ve never worried about being improper before. As you pointed out yourself just recently, we’ve been in private together more than once.” He spoke in a low tone, his voice taking on that chocolatey quality. “At Vauxhall, and the Panorama, and the Physic Garden…”

She blushed again, remembering all those times. Remembering the greenhouse in Chelsea especially, when she’d sat on his lap. Remembering how he’d made her feel. “But we weren’t in your bedroom.”

“Does the fact that it’s a bedroom really make a difference?”

“Well, yes. In those other places we only kissed. In bedrooms…” She flushed even hotter, which was quite vexing—normally this sort of talk didn’t make her bat an eyelash. But something about discussing this in view of James’s gigantic bed made her feel shy.

“Is
that
what you think?” He gave her an odd look. “I do only want to kiss! For goodness’ sake, Juliana, I’m still technically engaged to someone else.”

“Oh. Right.” Now she felt mortified. Apparently, James had a more virtuous mind than she, and
he
had been
married
before. In a small voice she said, “I suppose that’s fine, then.” She took a deep breath and walked into the room.

“I just want us to be alone where we won’t be interrupted,” he said, shutting the door behind them. He joined her where she was admiring a lovely inlaid table.

She smiled up at him. “I want that, too.”

He returned the smile, and, taking her wineglass, set it beside his on the table. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He was edging closer, making her pulse leap. “Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

Why couldn’t he just kiss her? Why did he always have to ask?

He tucked the loose strands of hair away from her face. “I swear, right now I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe. Can I?”

Why did he make it her decision as much as his, make it so she couldn’t claim he’d ever taken advantage, not even to herself?

Why, why,
why
?

But she knew why. It was because he was honorable. Because he was the best person she’d ever known. Because he was everything she’d ever wanted all along, even before she’d known herself enough to know it.

She loved him. She’d loved him since before she’d known what love was. And he was waiting. Waiting to hear she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. And if anyone deserved to know she wanted him with all of her heart, it was James.

“Yes,” she said clearly, meeting his gaze. “Yes, please. Please kiss me.”

And he did. He drew her close and kissed her, a kiss so warm that she submerged herself in it completely, sunk into it like a hot spring. It barely registered when he walked her over to the love seat and they dropped onto it together, she’d plunged so deep. Her senses seemed entangled, so that she knew there was heat and spice and wine and and chocolate but she didn’t know which she was seeing, smelling, touching, tasting. But it didn’t matter—all of it was James. He kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. She was so immersed in him, it felt like hours before she realized there were words floating back and forth across her mind…

I’m still engaged to someone else.

She sprung to her feet and backed up several wobbly, disoriented steps, breathing hard.

“Juliana? ”

“This is wrong. We need to stop.”

“Juliana—”

“James? Are you home?”

It was his mother, out in the corridor. Juliana choked, coughed, covered her mouth.

“James, is that you?”

“Blast it,” he gritted out and climbed to his feet. It was quite a climb, given how tall he was, and how squashy the love seat was.

“James?” His mother knocked on the door.

“I’m coming, Mother.” He tramped to the door and opened it just enough to slip through—so his mother wouldn’t see Juliana inside, thank goodness—and shut it behind him.

And then Juliana sank back down on the squashy, still-warm love seat, catching her breath, listening to their conversation.

“Oh, James, I thought I heard you. How are you feeling, dear?”

“Tired. I was sleeping.”

“In your clothes? Poor dear.” There was a pause, during which Juliana imagined Lady Stafford ruffling James’s hair, even though he was much too old to have his hair ruffled. “I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I so wanted you to marry Juliana.”

“I know.” She heard James sigh. “It may still happen.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Stafford sounded very excited. “What do you mean, it may still happen?”

“I’m very tired, Mother, and I don’t want to explain it now. Can we talk about this in the morning? How are
you
feeling?”

“Better. Much better. I think I’ll be able to attend your wedding tomorrow.”

“I’m hoping there won’t
be
a wedding.” His voice was getting fainter. “Let me take you back to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I really don’t want to wait until morning to hear this, James,” Juliana heard very faintly.

And then she heard nothing. He must have been walking his mother back to bed. It took him a very long time to return, and at first Juliana figured that was because it was a very long corridor, but when he took even longer, she figured he was probably explaining everything to his mother. Lady Stafford was rather persistent, after all. Most mothers were. Juliana figured she’d probably be a rather persistent mother herself.

If she ever got to
be
a mother.

What if everything didn’t work out?

At last James hurried back into the room and shut the door behind him. He headed straight toward her and pulled her up from the love seat.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He wrapped his arms around her. ”Getting back to kissing you.”

“We cannot kiss, James. We especially cannot kiss alone in your bedroom.”

“What?”
He pulled back and stared at her. “Whyever not? I thought you wanted—”

“What if everything doesn’t work out?”

“What do you mean, what if everything doesn’t work out?”

“I heard you tell your mother it
may
still happen. And you’re
hoping
there won’t be a wedding tomorrow.”

His hands dropped, then rose again to take her by the shoulders. “I was just trying to get her back to bed. I didn’t want to stop and explain everything. I didn’t want to have a
discussion
. I wanted to get back to you.”

She shook her head stubbornly. ”What if everything doesn’t work out? We shouldn’t be kissing in your bedroom if you’re going to marry Amanda.”

Now his hands rose to cup her cheeks. “I’m not going to marry Lady Amanda. You read Castleton’s note. Everyone is in agreement.”

“Her father isn’t.”

“He isn’t even her father!”

“That doesn’t signify. He’s legally her guardian. He might have another objection.”

Looking defeated, James let go of her and plopped down on a chair. “What could he possibly come up with now? Who could he possibly claim slept with whom in order to make Lady Amanda and Castleton’s marriage impossible?”

“I don’t know. All I know is we all thought he couldn’t possibly have a valid objection before, and it turned out he did. So it could happen again. Or someone else could have an objection. We don’t know, James. We have to wait.”

He let out an exasperated groan. “As soon as we straighten everything out, we’ll be wed tomorrow. I was planning to get married tomorrow, anyway.”

Despite her frustration, despite everything, she couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous. We cannot get married tomorrow.”

“Why not? It was simple to get the special license to wed Lady Amanda—all it took was money. I can get another license with your name on it tomorrow with no trouble at all.”

“We need more than a license, James. I need a wedding dress. And we have to deal with the whole mess regarding Amanda’s parentage tomorrow, and I have to deliver the baby clothes. The Governors are expecting me at the Foundling Hospital tomorrow afternoon, with two hundred and forty items.”

Thank heavens they were finished. The women James had hired had only needed to make twelve more. Everything was going to work out.

In that quarter, at least.

“All right,” he said dourly. “We’ll get married the Saturday after that. If we go out in the corridor, can I kiss you one more time?”

She shouldn’t allow it, not even in the corridor. But she couldn’t deny him, and after all, they’d certainly kissed already. ”Yes,” she said, “you can kiss me in the corridor. And then we need to go let Amanda know what’s happening.”

He opened the door and drew her into the empty corridor and kissed her, and all the while, all the time she had her arms around his neck and was kissing him, she was crossing her fingers and hoping everything would work out.

AND SO IT WAS
that James arrived at Lady Amanda’s house on the day Lord Wolverston had commanded, but a full twelve hours before the man expected him. Also not according to plan, he didn’t arrive by the front door.

“I think her bedroom is right there,” Juliana whispered, peering up from the back garden. “That window with the pale blue drapes.”

It was on the second floor. James eyed the wall, which was plain stucco with no footholds in sight. He bent down to gather some pebbles.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting Lady Amanda’s attention.” He tossed one, and the little
clink
sounded like it carried for miles.

She winced. “You’re going to wake someone.”

“Mmm-hmm. That’s the whole idea.”
Clink.

“I thought you would scale the building.”

Clink.
“Sorry to disappoint you”—
clink
—“but you’re marrying a physician, not a sportsman.”
Clink, clink
. “I already have one bad knee.”

“I’m marrying a physician,” Juliana echoed as though she couldn’t quite believe it.

James also thought it was too amazing to quite believe. Especially since several people involved didn’t know what was happening yet. Especially because someone might make an objection. That was the reason she’d insisted they couldn’t kiss in his bedroom, wasn’t it? And she hadn’t been exactly wrong.

Not that he was happy about the situation.

“James.”

“Hmm?”
Clink.

Before he could toss another pebble, she caught his hand. “I love you.”

He turned and smiled down at her. The rain had stopped, and the sky had cleared, and the low light of the full moon gleamed off all her beautiful, straight hair that had slipped from its pins while they’d kissed in his bedroom. Her hair that was a million different colors of blond and brown. She reached her free hand to touch his cheek—she was probably feeling the slight roughness, late as it was—and as he bent his head, her lips parted slightly—

“Whatever is happening out there?”

James and Juliana jerked apart.

Lady Amanda had opened her window. “Lord Stafford? What are you doing with Lady Juliana?” She sounded reproachful.

And he could hardly blame her. They were still technically engaged, after all.

“We came to wake you,” he said.

They quickly explained their discovery, while Lady Amanda’s eyes got wider and wider. At the end, Juliana sighed sympathetically. “I do hope you’re not terribly distressed to learn you’re…well…”

“A by-blow?” Lady Amanda supplied shakily. “I shouldn’t be distressed, should I? After all, the man I love is a by-blow, too.”

“Faith,” Juliana exclaimed with a soft laugh. “You’ve surely had a change of heart. Meet us at my house at ten o’clock. The duke will be waiting, and we’ll all go next door to Lord Neville and verify the truth.”

“My father won’t let me out of the house at ten. He’s expecting me to marry at noon.”

“He’s not your father,” Juliana reminded her. “You have no obligation to obey him. I’m sure you can find a way out.”

“I cannot—”

“Tell Lord Wolverston you’re dressing for the wedding,” she said out loud, and then softly under her breath, “Honestly, do I have to plan everything?” She sighed and raised her voice again. “I’ll make sure there’s a ladder from your window down to here. I’ll have one of my brother’s footmen deliver it.”