Juliana (24 page)

ORANGE JUMBLES

Mixe a cup of Flower with Almonds ground fine and Sugar, then add two spoones of grated rinde of Oranges and Salt. Rub in some Butter and binde with beaten whites of two Egges. When smooth, make into pieces and roll each out in the shape of an S. Bake on a greased tin until browne and golden.

This receipt has been in our family for a very long time. They are a homely sort of biscuit, good for taking to ailing villagers or anyone you like to make comfortable.
—Lady Diana Caldwell, 1689

JAMES HANDED
the hopeful young woman a pencil and slid a piece of paper across the counter. “Write your name here, please, on line fourteen.”

She squinted at the page.

“There,” he elaborated, indicating the number
14
.

She bit her lip and wrote an awkward
X
beside it.

The eleventh
X
on the page.

“Thank you,” he said, suppressing a sigh, “but I don’t believe you will find this position suitable.”

Her shoulders slumped as she turned, and he wished he could help. The introduction of new machinery was causing massive unemployment all over England, but his sympathy didn’t change the fact that he required an assistant who could read and write.

As she plodded out of the New Hope Institute, Juliana danced in, gave a jaunty wave toward the Chase carriage outside, and stuck her umbrella in the stand by the door.

It was Wednesday, and—James checked his pocket watch—precisely one o’clock. Having not seen Juliana since the dinner at Stafford House on Sunday, he’d been wondering if she would actually show up. As she walked toward him, her smile seemed to brighten the whole reception room.

Though it was raining outside—of course—she was wearing a sunny yellow dress. A
thin,
sunny yellow dress.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “No Lady Frances?”

“Oh, she’d be bored, and she doesn’t care for this neighborhood. Besides, this is hardly a situation that requires a chaperone.” She seemed to be peering at the area below his throat. “The carriage will return for me at four o’clock. Why are you out here?” Raising her gaze to his face, she placed the basket she was carrying on the counter between them. “Shouldn’t you be in one of the treatment rooms, giving vaccinations?”

“I’m interviewing for a new assistant.” He gestured toward the
HELP WANTED
sign he’d once again placed in the window. “And playing the part of assistant myself until I find one.”

“I thought you’d already found a girl?”

“She left. This morning.” The pouring rain had kept a queue from forming all the way to Surrey today, but that also meant potential new employees were staying home. Juliana seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so he added, “She found herself with child unexpectedly.” Again. James half-believed there
was
something in the water.

“Unexpectedly? How can it be that a girl does what it takes to get a child without expecting to find herself with one?”

He was not at all interested in answering such an unseemly question. He was much more interested in
her
apparent interest in the bit of his skin that was exposed where he’d left his top button undone.

“She has no husband,” he said, unfastening a second button just to see her reaction. “The father of her child cannot afford to support a wife.”

“Oh.” She looked a mite scandalized, but he wasn’t sure whether it was due to the unbuttoning or to the news of his assistant’s disgrace. “She must feel perfectly dreadful.”

“Less dreadful, I expect, since I gave her fifty pounds and sent her off to get married.”

Her entire face lit up. “Then she won’t have to give her child to the Foundling Hospital. How sensationally kind of you, James!” The admiration in her voice made him want to kiss her.

All right, the mere sight of her made him want to kiss her.

He shifted uncomfortably, wishing they were someplace besides the Institute.

“I brought you orange jumbles,” she said, lifting the cloth that covered the basket to reveal biscuits that smelled almost as good as she did. “They’re supposed to be good for the ailing.” She glanced around the crowded reception area. “Though I suppose these people aren’t ailing, really, are they?”

“My aim is to
keep
them from ailing.”

“Yes, of course. Well, the jumbles are supposed to help keep one comfortable as well. Try one.”

As he took one of the sweets—wondering if it was so obvious that he was uncomfortable—a woman and her newly vaccinated son walked out, the youngster sucking a sugar stick.

“Excuse me,” James said and stepped from behind the counter. “Number forty-three!”

Another woman and her two children rose and followed him into the back. Taking the biscuit with him, he showed them to a treatment room. The orange jumble was crisp and tasted sweet and citrusy, but it wasn’t particularly comforting.

When he returned, Juliana was behind the counter, handing a number to a dripping family of four. “You’re number fifty-seven,” she said loudly and clearly. “Please be seated. Lord Stafford will call you when it’s your turn.”

James watched the family try and fail to find seats, then turned to Juliana. “I prefer to be called Dr. Trevor while I’m here. ‘Lord Stafford’ intimidates the patients.”

“I’ll try to remember that. There’s a young man waiting to interview for the assistant position—I told him to sit until you were ready. Which of the treatment rooms shall I clean?”

“Pardon?”

“I came to clean treatment rooms, remember?” She pulled off her gloves. “I’m wearing my oldest dress.”

He eyed her oldest dress. It looked no more shabby than the one she’d worn to his house for dinner, which meant, of course, that it didn’t look shabby at all.

“What makes you think I would expect a lady to clean anything?” he asked. “The Stafford House maids take turns coming here to clean. Three times a week.”

Her pretty brow creased. “Why did you tell Lady Amanda she could clean, then?”

He shrugged, remembering Lady Amanda’s attitude at dinner. Very ladylike and rather snobbish. “I just wanted to see her reaction.”

“Oh.” Juliana looked thoughtful, or anxious—he wasn’t sure which. “And what did you think of how she reacted?”

“Very much like a lady,” he said, leaving out the word
snobbish
.

Now she looked relieved. “Amanda is very much a lovely lady,” she said. “What shall you have me do if not clean treatment rooms?”

“You seem to make an excellent assistant. Why don’t you keep doing that?”

She did prove to be an excellent assistant, which allowed him to vaccinate patients between interviewing candidates. Two hours later, the number of people in the reception room had dwindled to something approaching normal. The orange jumbles were all gone, and they’d indeed seemed to comfort some of the patients.

He’d talked to three more people who wanted the job, but none had been suitable.

“The tasks aren’t very difficult,” Juliana said during a rare lull. Her gaze flicked toward his open collar and back up. “Why haven’t you been able to find an acceptable candidate?”

“My assistant must be able to read and write neatly.”

“Is that all?” She handed him the box of sugar sticks he’d asked her to fetch. “I shall screen the applicants for you, then, and let you know if I find someone with those qualifications. You can keep giving vaccinations.”

He wished he could find someone as efficient as Juliana. An hour later, she announced she’d found the perfect replacement, a young woman that Miss Smith, his last morning assistant, had apparently sent and recommended. All the supplies in the treatment rooms were restocked, the storage shelves were organized, Juliana had rewritten his scribbled July schedule in a tidy, legible hand, and—in part thanks to the rain—only five patients were waiting for vaccinations.

Even better, it was now four o’clock, which meant his second-shift assistant had arrived, as well as two fresh physicians. He was free, and it was Wednesday, so Parliament wasn’t in session. Juliana’s carriage was due to return any moment, but she had no chaperone, for once. Her curious gaze still rested where his shirt was unbuttoned whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

Most encouraging.

Maybe he could get her alone someplace where he could kiss her, he thought as he followed her toward the door. Maybe he could talk her into going somewhere besides home.

She pulled on her gloves. “Will I see you at Almack’s tonight?”

Somewhere besides Almack’s.

The door opened, admitting two new patients, a footman in Chase livery, and a messenger boy. “Lord Stafford?” the messenger boy inquired.

“Yes.” James took the note, broke the seal, and scanned the single page. “Blast it.”

“Is it something dreadful?” Juliana asked, splaying a gloved hand over her bodice.

“No. Aunt Bedelia fears some ailment and wishes to see me.”

“I hope she’ll turn out to be well.”

“She will, I assure you. But I’m afraid I won’t make it to Almack’s tonight.”

“It’s only four o’clock. How long can it take to examine her?”

“Very long,” he fibbed. “I fear Aunt Aurelia will wish to be examined, too.”

“How very unfortunate.” She sighed prettily and pulled her umbrella out of the stand. “Shall I see you at the Billingsgate ball on Saturday, then?”

There was no way his mother would accept an excuse for not attending the Billingsgate ball. His aunts would be there, after all, so he could hardly claim that he must examine them again. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

It wasn’t Almack’s. And Juliana would be there, too. In another thin dress.

A pity he wouldn’t be able to leave his top button undone.

THE BILLINGSGATE
ball was in full swing, and music floated through the open door of Lord Billingsgate’s library. “This will be perfect,” Juliana said, glancing around. “It’s close to the ballroom, so as soon as there’s a commotion, plenty of people will come running to witness your disgrace.”

Amanda tugged on the little puffed sleeves of the pale green dress Juliana had chosen for her. “Shall I have to kiss Lord Stafford for long?”

“I shouldn’t think so. As soon as he starts kissing you, I shall fetch Lady Billingsgate to assure your ruin.”

“What if he doesn’t wish to kiss me?”

“Of course he wishes to kiss you! He’s courting you, isn’t he? Young men are always wishing to kiss ladies.”

Except for the duke.

Juliana was beginning to wonder if she’d
ever
be kissed. The duke had been too busy to pay her any calls this week—doing what, she couldn’t imagine—so she had yet to find an opportunity to start showing him how to be more affectionate. She knew he liked her more than ever, though, because he’d sent roses twice. That made three times he’d sent her roses! They were all white roses, of course, since he was proper and reserved. But he’d included notes these last two times—proper notes, very kind and complimentary—so she had high hopes he was falling deeper in love with her. After all, even Aunt Frances had received roses only once.

She turned her thoughts back to Amanda. “Remove your gloves so Lord Stafford can feel the warmth of your skin,” she advised. “Drape yourself elegantly on the sofa. Before you lie down, douse two of the lamps. Low lighting is more romantic.”

“Douse the lamps,” Amanda repeated as though trying to memorize Juliana’s instructions. “And take off my gloves.” She tugged up the edge of her bodice.

“And stop playing with your dress.” Juliana headed back to the ball, Amanda following at her heels. “It makes you look nervous.”

“I
am
nervous.” Entering the ballroom, Amanda paused. “Lord Stafford still isn’t here. What if he doesn’t come?”

“It’s not even ten o’clock yet,” Juliana said soothingly, scanning the glittering crush. James’s mother wasn’t here yet, either. Lord Cavanaugh was pacing like a caged animal waiting for food, looking as anxious to see Lady Stafford as Amanda was to see the lady’s son. For different reasons, of course. “Stop worrying. Lord Stafford assured me he was attending.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Amanda asked for the tenth time. Or maybe the twentieth.

Honestly, Juliana could hardly wait until midnight when James would compromise her friend, because even though tricking him still didn’t sit quite right with her, it would be such a relief to have this whole business over and done with.

“Here comes the duke,” Amanda said.

Juliana turned and smiled. She’d worn her most alluring dress, a pale rose confection with a wide neckline that hung just on the edge of her shoulders.

But he didn’t look allured.

He did return her smile, though. “Good evening, my dear.” His gaze shifted to her friend. “Good evening, Lady Amanda,” he added formally.

“Good evening, your grace,” Amanda replied, sounding every bit as formal.

And that was when Juliana had a sudden bright idea.

She would encourage the duke to dance with Amanda. Seeing how tiresome it was to dance with someone so reserved might help him loosen up a bit. And in the meantime, while Amanda was dancing with him in a tiresome manner, Juliana would dance with other young men in her usual charming, vivacious way.