How to Romance a Rake (17 page)

“No,” Juliet assured her. “She knows that if she reveals any of Anna’s secrets, Anna and I will reveal hers. I never thought that I’d be in a position where I’d have to blackmail my own mother, but I suppose given who my mother is, this is a small enough price to pay.”

“Is there anyone Anna might have confided in?” Maddie bit into a macaroon. “Someone besides you, I mean?”

“The only person I can think of is her mentor, Signor Boccardo, but he made no mention of it when Alec and I met with him.”

She sighed, staring into the murky depths of her tea. “Between this business with Mrs. Turner and my mother’s championing of Lord Turlington’s suit, I begin to think you and Cecily are the only ladies in my life I can trust. I cannot believe I was so wrong about Anna.”

“Dearest, you mustn’t punish yourself for trusting her. She was your friend, after all. And we do not know yet why she did the things she did. Yes, she did steal your compositions, but what if, as you have suggested, she needed the funds? Who knows what any of us might stoop to given the right circumstances. And she has always supported you in your dislike of Turlington, has she not?”

“Indeed,” Juliet said thoughtfully. “She warned me against him even before my mother began to propose him as a possible suitor. When he practically ran tame in our house—back before she was dismissed—Anna warned me that he was not to be trusted. She even cautioned me to lock my door when he was in the house.”

“You see?” Maddie reassured her. “Mrs. Turner had your best interest at heart. I feel sure that there is some rational explanation for her betrayals. At least I hope so. For your sake. And for little Alice’s sake as well. Surely she would not have left the baby behind without some serious inducement.”

Juliet considered her cousin’s words. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so estranged from her mother, she would not have placed so much faith in Anna. Even so, despite all of her current misgivings, she still feared for Anna’s safety. Maddie was correct. Anna would not have left Alice behind without very good reason.

Alice. It all came back to Alice.

Eight

“Now, my dear,” Lady Shelby said, pulling on her gloves as they rode through the streets of Mayfair in the Shelby carriage, “you must make sure that you speak only when spoken to, and that you pay special attention to anything Lord Turlington or his mother says to you. I want you to make a good impression on the family. And none of that slipping off to brood on your own like you did at the gallery. I mean for you to show them that you are more than capable of being the sort of wife an artist like Turlington needs.”

Perhaps having realized that she’d crossed a line last night, Lady Shelby, while still pushing her into an unwanted match, had been kinder today. Juliet was not so naïve as to think that it had anything to do with her protests of last evening, but suspected that her mother had remembered the old adage about flies and honey. Whatever the case, she was thankful for the softening of her mother’s demands, if only because it would make their time spent together a bit less fraught. With all she’d learned this afternoon, and her decision that she might be forced to ruin her own reputation in an effort to escape marriage to Turlington, she felt a strange sense of calm and empowerment.

“Yes, Mama,” she told her mother, in what she hoped was a meek tone.

“Good girl,” Lady Shelby praised her. “I do like that ensemble on you. It hides your infirmity quite nicely. And the color is pleasing.”

It was a silk gown of cerulean, one of the pieces Deveril had chosen for her from Madame Celeste’s. Juliet had worn it especially for her visit to the Turlington household because knowing she looked particularly well in it—or that Deveril thought she did—made her feel capable, no matter that he’d warned her off thinking of him in a romantic way that afternoon. The gown made her feel strong, and able to handle whatever sort of problems the Turlingtons sent her way. When they arrived at the Turlington residence, they were ushered into a drawing room decorated in dark, bold colors. The walls were draped in a russet-colored fabric and the furniture was a mix of dark woods and intricately patterned upholstery.

“Ah, Lady Shelby,” crooned a woman in a feathered turban from her position perched on the edge of a settee, “I am so glad you were able to attend.”

Juliet followed her mother to the circle of people already gathered around the woman she presumed to be Lady Turlington. The room itself was full to bursting with guests, who were clustered in small groups throughout the chamber. The conversations ranged from heated arguments to desultory chats and everything in between.

When she and her mother reached Lady Turlington’s group, a few of the gentlemen on the edge of the group stepped back so that they might pay their respects to their hostess.

“May I present my daughter, Miss Shelby?” Lady Shelby asked, pushing Juliet forward to make her curtsy to the other woman.

Up close, Juliet saw that Lady Turlington was older than she had at first seemed. Her hair was an unnatural shade of yellow and the lines around her eyes and mouth had been softened, if Juliet was not mistaken, by a judicious use of cosmetics. She knew that women from earlier generations had not balked at using paints and powders to augment their looks, so it was less surprising than it might have been. But knowing how her mother abhorred the use of such unnatural enhancements, she was reminded once more of just how low her mother had come to push her only daughter into marrying the son of a woman she might otherwise have shunned.

“Lady Turlington,” Juliet said, rising from her obeisance. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Well, child,” the countess said, looking her over with such intensity that Juliet almost offered her teeth for inspection, “you are a pretty enough little thing, aren’t you? I suppose you’ll do.”

As there was no polite way to reply to such an observation, Juliet said nothing.

Seeming disappointed, Lady Turlington shrugged and said, “There are some young ladies over there. I suppose you’d rather go have a chat with them. We’re discussing Elgin’s Marbles, and even I know that’s no fit topic for an unwed chit’s conversation.”

Dismissed, Juliet glanced to her mother, who nodded her acquiescence.

When she approached the circle of younger ladies, Juliet felt her heart sink when she saw that among them was Miss Snowe. What on earth was she doing at an artistic salon? Unable to turn away without causing offense, she stepped forward, her limp feeling more conspicuous than usual.

“So I told Lord Spencer that he could either dance with me or retire to the card room in peace,” Amelia was saying, her china-doll blue eyes alight with merriment. “Of course he chose me.”

“Naturally, my dear Miss Snowe,” said young Lord Lymington. “Any man would prefer you to a game of cards.”

Juliet fought to keep her eyes from rolling at the young baron’s gallantry. Perhaps if she were quiet she could go chat with the circle of young matrons near the doorway.

A hand on her arm diverted her attention from Amelia and her coterie. Her heart sinking at being recognized and therefore unable to slip away on her own, Juliet turned to see Miss Katherine Devenish, Lord Deveril’s younger sister.

“My apologies for intruding,” the blond-haired young lady, who bore a strong resemblance to her brother, said. “I am so pleased to see you here, however. My brother has talked of no one else of late.”

Juliet felt the eyes of everyone in the group on her. “You must have mistaken me for my cousin Lady Madeline Essex,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. Surely Deveril had not been so indiscreet as to mention their kiss last night to his baby sister.

But Katherine shook her head. “No, I am quite sure it was you he spoke of,” she said. “I have met Lady Madeline as well, of course, but I believe it was you he referred to when he spoke of the gifted pianist.”

Since Madeline could barely play scales, it did seem that Lord Deveril had been speaking of Juliet. She was somewhat stunned at the notion though she supposed it was unremarkable enough.

Her eyes narrowed as she listened to this exchange, Amelia spoke up. “I was unaware that you played, Miss Shelby. In fact, I recall you declining to do so once at Lady Lymington’s musicale.”

“But declining to play does not necessarily mean that one cannot play, Miss Snowe. I simply did not care to do so that evening.” Juliet wished that someone would change the topic of conversation. Fervently.

“Ah, well,” Amelia responded, her voice studiously languid. She sometimes affected an air of ennui that Juliet supposed was meant to convey sophistication. What it conveyed to Juliet was pretension. “I suppose I should not be surprised that one so unaccustomed to moving about in society would have a fear of playing before an audience.”

Since Juliet had been out in society longer than Amelia, the insult was clear. Aloud, she said coolly, “Again I must correct you, Miss Snowe. Fear has nothing to do with it. It is more a case of not wishing to be the center of attention.”

“Well, I for one would love to hear Miss Shelby play,” Lymington said nervously. It was clear he was unsure what dark undercurrents passed between the two women, but wished to quiet the waters.

“So would I,” Amelia chimed in. “If, of course, Miss Shelby is willing to break her rule against being the center of attention. Though honestly, I think it is a bit…” She paused, as if searching for just the right word.

An inward tug of competition rose in Juliet’s chest. She had long wished for some way to put Amelia in her place. Or to show her that there were other young ladies besides her small fashionable circle in the
ton.
Yes, she had helped Madeline arrange for Cecily to use Miss Snowe’s dance card earlier in the season, but this was a chance to best Amelia all on her own. And, she thought with satisfaction, to show just how superior an instructor Mrs. Turner really was.

“I think it’s a splendid notion,” said Lord Turlington as he strode across the room to Juliet’s side. She had not seen him since that day at the gallery and the time and distance had done nothing to improve her opinion. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as he touched her arm. Cursing her sharp tongue for drawing their group to his attention, she pretended a civility toward him that she did not feel.

“Come, Miss Shelby,” he said, offering her his arm, which she had no choice but to accept, “I will show you and the others to the music room, where you may play and entertain us.”

Her stomach knotted—her desire to put Amelia in her place was at war with her dislike of drawing attention to herself. And what would Mama say when she found out?

Calling upon the reserve of inner strength that she had long used to steel herself to the scorn of her peers, Juliet took Lord Turlington’s arm and allowed him to lead her toward the music room.

*   *   *

Alec arrived at the Turlington town house in Half-Moon Street later than he had planned. As he handed his hat and gloves to the butler, he was informed that the guests had moved to the music room.

Despite his warning to Juliet that afternoon, he had been unable to resist the urge to see her tonight. And to protect her from both her mother and Turlington.

He heard the piano music before he reached the room. If he wasn’t mistaken it was a sonata by Beethoven. The one he and Juliet had discussed at Frampton’s. He’d heard the same piece mangled terribly by a pastel-gowned debutante only last week. But this. This was different. Whereas the debutante’s rendering had made him want to cover his ears in anguish, this pianist prompted another kind of anguish. That sweet, sad feeling that only a well-crafted bit of poetry or music or prose could evoke.

When he entered the music room, the assembled company was quiet, all eyes were on the figure at the piano, whose deft fingers flew over the keyboard.

If her auburn hair, escaping from its tidy chignon, were not clue enough, Alec would have known it was Juliet by the tilt of her head. Could he really have become so attuned to her every mannerism that it took only that to identify her? He shook off the notion, deciding to consider that Pandora’s box later.

Leaning his shoulders against the doorjamb, he watched entranced as she bent low over the keyboard. As if she were coaxing the music from it. If this was the result of her training at Mrs. Turner’s hands then that lady was indeed a gifted instructor. He was not pleased to see that it was Turlington who stood behind her turning the pages as she played. Though it put him in the position of dog in the manger, he would do whatever it took to make sure the man stayed as far away from Juliet as possible. Especially given what he’d learned of the other man that afternoon at White’s. Turlington, it seemed, had a reputation for deep play. So deep in fact that it was a not-so-very-well-kept secret that his estates were mortgaged to the hilt. He had just the other evening lost so much at the tables that he’d been forced to offer up his brand-new curricle as payment for the debt. Which had, doubtless, been bought on credit in the first place.

Though many fashionable gentlemen of the
ton
thought there was no shame in refusing to pay the tradesmen who kept them in fine style, Alec had seen the results of such excess on his father’s estate growing up. The elder Lord Deveril had thought it no great matter to refuse wages to his staff, who had had little choice but to remain in his employ. Most of their families had lived on the estate for generations. While he had tried to right many of his father’s wrongs since his accession to the title, Alec knew that it would take years to repair the damage done to the estate and the village under his father’s tenure.

But the most damning detail he’d unearthed about Turlington that morning had not to do with what that gentleman owed, but what was owed him. Lady Shelby, it would seem, was also addicted to deep play. And Alec had learned—after paying handsomely for the information—that Lady Shelby was deeply indebted to the man. So much in debt that she was willing to pay the fellow with the hand of her daughter? That remained to be seen. But since Lord Shelby was known to have refused to pay his wife’s debts in the past, it was likely that he had also refused to repay Turlington from the Shelby coffers. And so Lady Shelby had come to an agreement with Lord Turlington.