How to Romance a Rake (3 page)

“Well, you must admit that you are considerably more socially successful than I am,” she defended herself. “Only consider how Miss Snowe and Lady Felicia mocked me. And they are hardly the only members of the
ton
who say such things.”

“Speaking of those two,” Alec said, “whatever have you and your cousins done to incur the wrath of Miss Snowe?”

Juliet stiffened. “I hardly think that we are to blame for Miss Snowe’s incivility,” she said with a frown. “However,” she conceded, “I believe she is currently annoyed with Cecily for stealing the Duke of Winterson from her. Of course, she does not account for the fact that Winterson had no intention of marrying her in the first place, but then Miss Snowe is not known for her ability to perform logical deductions.”

“I do apologize,” Alec said quickly, “I did not mean to imply that you brought on her enmity.” His brows furrowed. “But she did seem particularly harsh about you, I think. Did you perhaps steal one of her beaux as well?”

He meant the last line to be teasing, but Miss Shelby’s laugh was mirthless. “Hardly, my lord.

“I believe,” she went on, “that Miss Snowe singles out my cousins and me because she failed to bring my elder brother up to scratch several years ago in Bath. When Matthew chose to marry someone else, Miss Snowe decided to take out her disappointment on us.”

“Three years is a long time to nurse a grudge,” Alec said, leaning his shoulders against the Adam fireplace.

“Well, I daresay if she had managed to marry someone else in the interim—Winterson, perhaps—she might have given up,” Juliet said. “But since she has as yet been unsuccessful on the marriage mart, she still has anger enough to fuel her spite.”

“It must be unpleasant for you.” Which was an understatement, he knew.

“In truth, it does not bother me,” Juliet assured him. “I am accustomed to being singled out. I dislike it when she vents her spleen on my cousins, however. They are not as skilled at deflecting such venom as I am.”

“That being the case, however,” he said, “I dislike hearing her mock your…”

Juliet looked up, one dark red brow raised in good humor. “My injury, shall we call it?”

At his mute nod, she went on. “I wish you would not let it concern you, my lord. I have been subjected to worse.” She smiled wryly. “And at least in one respect, Amelia is perfectly correct. I cannot dance.”

*   *   *

What the devil was she doing enclosed in an antechamber conversing with Lord Deveril of all people? Juliet wondered.

She’d been pleased to have him rout Miss Snowe and her henchwoman Lady Felicia, but now she needed to make her escape before someone saw them together. But to her dismay, her host showed no signs of allowing her to leave.

“Have you ever tried to dance, Miss Shelby?” he asked, his angelic countenance contorted into a frown. For a moment, Juliet imagined him as an avenging angel rushing to her defense. It was a heady thought.

“Though I imagine her situation is quite different from yours,” Deveril continued, “I know that my great-aunt Augusta, who suffers from a similar problem, found that while she cannot walk without a limp, she was rather good at dancing. Something to do with having a compensatory sense of balance.”

Though she knew he meant well, Juliet rather doubted that Lord Deveril’s Great-aunt Augusta’s ailment was quite as severe as her own. Still, it was kind of him to suggest it.

“I have not tried to dance, my lord,” she said, “but I can assure you that there is little chance of my being able to do so. I’m afraid my—”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Shelby,” he interrupted, “but if you haven’t tried, then how can you possibly know?”

His audacity surprised her. For as long as she’d known him, or more accurately known of him, Lord Alec Deveril had been held up as a pillar of good breeding and elegant manners. He was hardly the sort of man one would expect to interrupt a lady. Still, his question gave her pause.

How could she know without having tried? She thought of the dance card that her cousin Cecily had given to her a week ago.

Earlier that season, when Amelia Snowe had left her reusable ivory and filigree dance card in the ladies’ retiring room at the Bewle ball, Cecily, then Miss Hurston, had snatched it up in hopes of using it herself. After all, it had been signed by the most eligible gentlemen of the
ton
and Amelia had just proven herself once more to be the most unpleasant and hateful young lady of the cousins’ acquaintance. But now that Cecily was happily married, she had passed it on, as a sort of good luck token, to Juliet. She was not bold enough to trick the gentlemen into thinking they had signed up for dancing with her rather than Amelia, as Cecily had done, but she would like to put the dance card to use on her own. Perhaps have the gentlemen of the beau monde scrawl their names on the ivory slats of the dance card in hopes of taking a turn about the room with
her
for a change.

But since it had come into her possession, Juliet had been wondering just how she could make that happen. It was perfectly acceptable for young ladies who were unable to dance to sit out the set with a gentleman. But what if Lord Deveril was right? What if she could actually dance? The very idea was revolutionary. It could change everything.

“I suppose you are right,” she conceded at last. “I cannot know, never having tried. But I would hardly wish to try it in a ballroom full of spectators. If my mama was worried that my playing the pianoforte would create a spectacle, she would have an apoplectic fit if she knew I was considering dancing.”

“Which,” his lordship said with a grin, “is why you should have a select group of people teach you. Perhaps just your cousins and a few other ladies and gentlemen.”

He looked so pleased with himself that Juliet nearly laughed aloud. “And I suppose you would wish to be a member of the party?” she asked.

“Well, it was my idea,” he said guilelessly.

Juliet found herself smiling. “I have no doubt that Cecily will be happy to host such a party at Winterson House.”

“What sort of hostess duties are you committing me to, Juliet?” the Duchess of Winterson demanded from the doorway. “And what on earth are you doing closeted with Lord Deveril? I know you have no care for your reputation, but if your mama were to know she’d have the two of you married before morning.”

Apparently unfazed by the duchess’s warning, Lord Deveril merely grinned, and bowed to her cousin. “I shall leave you to explain your plan to the duchess, Miss Shelby. I enjoyed our conversation very much.”

When he had gone, Cecily looked speculatively at her cousin.

“Yes, Juliet, explain your plan to your cousin,” she said. “And please include the part that involves the gorgeous man who just left the room.”

Cursing the blush she felt rising on her fair skin, Juliet did just that.

Two

Three nights later, Juliet stood nervously as Cecily and Winterson demonstrated the movements of the polonaise, their hands clasped as they stepped and spun. Since Winterson still felt the effects of a war injury to his leg, it was useful for Juliet to see how the steps of the dance might be modified to accommodate him.

“You can see, Juliet,” Cecily said, suiting her actions to her words, “that you take a sliding step, like this, and then bend the knee every third step.”

“You have to follow the steps of the lead couple, of course,” Winterson said, turning with Cecily’s left hand in his right and her right in his left. “It’s more of a promenade than anything else.”

“I’ve attended my share of balls,” Juliet reminded them, “I believe I know the steps. It’s just a matter of performing them.”

“Then let’s get started,” Cecily said with a firm nod. She gestured to Lydia, Deveril’s sister, who was their accompanist for the evening. “Everyone take your partners.”

At her words, Juliet felt her heart pound. It was the moment of reckoning and she suddenly wished that she hadn’t been so firm in her assertion that all she wanted was practice to learn the steps. What if she failed miserably? What if she fell? What if she …

“Shall we, Miss Shelby?” Lord Deveril said, stepping out from behind her as the rest of the couples formed and went to stand in promenade position. “I promise not to lead you astray.”

She’d, of course, fretted over who would be burdened with partnering her, but in her imaginings she had never dreamed that Deveril would be the one. She rather thought that Monteith would be the one. She felt none of the unease with him that she felt with Deveril. Whereas Monteith made her laugh, Deveril made her nervous.

“Well, Miss Shelby?” he repeated. “Shall we?”

And without waiting for her to agree to it, he simply took her hand in his and led her to stand up beside the other couples. Other couples who had stood waiting, watching while she dithered.

“Deep breath,” Deveril said, squeezing her hand. “We are your friends, so there’s no need to be nervous. Besides, if you are nervous, then I am nervous. And you do not wish to see me when I’m nervous.”

“What happens?” Juliet asked, keeping her voice low as they waited for the music to start.

“I bite,” he whispered.

There was no time for Juliet to react, for the music commenced and she spent the next little while trying to maintain her balance and mastering the sliding steps of the dance. It wasn’t particularly vigorous. And because she could not point her right foot, she had to rely more on her partner than she would have liked. Even so, once they’d gone through a few figures, Juliet felt much more confident in her ability not to embarrass herself should she ever attempt to dance in public.

“I really must thank you for suggesting I try it, my lord,” she told Lord Deveril as they waltzed. He’d proved to be a patient teacher. And despite that provocative remark earlier, he had been the perfect gentleman. “I find that I enjoy dancing a great deal more than I could have guessed.”

If she were completely honest with herself, it wasn’t only the dancing that she enjoyed. Being held in the arms of London’s most eligible bachelor was something to anticipate, no matter how she tried to suppress her reaction.

“I would never have had the audacity to even consider the idea if you hadn’t suggested it,” she continued, trying desperately not to notice how he smelled of cloves and sandalwood.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Shelby.” If Lord Deveril noticed that she was melting in his arms, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he smiled down at her in that agreeable way of his that made her breathless and comfortable all at once.

“I am pleased to see that my suspicions were correct,” he continued. “Otherwise I would have missed the opportunity to dance with such a delightful partner.”

“Can’t say I expected such forward thinking from you, Deveril,” Monteith interrupted, gliding past with Cecily in his arms. “Thought you spent all your time coming up with new ways to tie your cravat. Or new receipts to bring your boots to the brightest shine.”

If they were ladies, Juliet would have described the reaction of the gentlemen to this salvo as giggles. But from her own experiences with her brother, Juliet knew that gentlemen never giggled.

“I fear, Monteith,” Deveril retorted, “you are mistaking my interests with those of my valet. Indeed, if I have any standing as a man of fashion at all, I owe it to him. Perhaps you’ve considered retaining one for yourself? Or perhaps you mean for your neck cloth to look as if it has been crushed by an elephant?”

“He’s got you there, Monteith,” Winterson snorted. “Told you that cravat wouldn’t pass muster with Deveril. Though I don’t think Phillips is going to like having his handiwork disparaged like that.”

“Gentlemen, pray remember that you are supposed to be on your best, most charming behavior!” Cecily chided the men. “One’s partners at a ball do not generally call out to one another across the room.”

“Well, not at
ton
balls anyway,” Lord Fortenbury, who was dancing with Winterson’s cousin Serena, said. “There are certain other entertainments where the social rules are a bit more … flexible.”

“Yes, well, we do not discuss those in mixed company, do we, Fort?” There was a hint of steel in Winterson’s tone.

“Really, darling,” Cecily said. “How are ladies supposed to know anything of the real world if gentlemen are forever protecting them from fast talk? If you treat us like children to be sheltered from every little hint of scandal, how will we deal with real scandal when we run across it?”

“Madam, I pray you, desist from requesting fast talk until you have gone home for the evening,” Monteith objected. “I have no wish to meet your husband over pistols at dawn. He’s a better shot than I am.”

“And what are your feelings on the matter, Miss Shelby?” Deveril asked, diverting Juliet’s attention from the other dancers. “Do you share your cousin’s attitude toward the edification of ladies?”

“I can hardly admit otherwise in her hearing, can I?” Juliet asked with a laugh. “Cecily can be quite persuasive on the matter, so I definitely share some of her more liberal leanings. However, I’m not sure I wish to know precisely what real scandal entails. Or rather, I do not wish to experience it for myself.”

“Ah, you are cautious, then.”

Juliet refused to look up into his face for fear she’d reveal just how captivating she found him. Besides, he was only doing her a kindness. It hardly implied the man was ready to throw himself at her feet.

“Indeed,” she answered primly. “I would not wish to become the subject of talk. Or rather, no moreso than usual.”

“I’m afraid that when you reveal your newfound dancing skills at the next ball you attend you will inevitably become the subject of talk,” Deveril told her, dipping his head a bit to look her in the face.

“But only of the best sort,” he assured her with a warm smile. “Society loves nothing better than a triumph.”

Juliet nodded, unable to voice her appreciation for his kind words.

They danced along in companionable silence while the easy chatter of their friends sounded around them. Juliet reveled in the feel of his hands, one at her waist and the other clasping hers tightly. She had very few moments of this sort, when she could hide away in the deep recesses of her mind, to bring out in times of trouble as a salve to combat loneliness. But she knew, with a certainty born of experience, that she would always remember this waltz.