Juliana (34 page)

He raised a dark brow. “This is a card game. It’s not at all the same as trying to deceive someone into a marriage.”

He was right about that. Drat. Right enough to make her feel guilty. Right enough to make her drop
that
argument like a hot poker.

She snatched up the deck and began dealing the next round. “I don’t have any more buttons on my dress.”

“Hmm.” He picked up his new cards and discarded a six. “Then I think you owe me a kiss instead.”

“I do not.” None of her new cards matched anything on the table. She had two aces in her hand and had to risk one if she wanted a chance to win both. She chose one and tossed it down. “It’s your turn.”

“An ace,” he mused, “imagine that.” He swept both it and the six up with a seven. “Two more points! That makes three kisses you owe me.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

All at once, his demeanor changed. He set his cards facedown and propped his chin on one hand, which brought his eye level down to hers. He was still smiling, but it was less teasing, and his eyes searched hers. “Don’t you like kissing me?”

It sounded like he was really asking, like he wanted to hear her answer.

Her skin prickled, even though it was very warm in the greenhouse. “Um…” She had to say something. “I…don’t know.”

“I think you do.” He didn’t sound smug at all anymore; he sounded kind. And his voice was deeper now. He’d grown more serious. “I think you do know. And I think you
do
like kissing me.” He scooted closer and skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “I think you want me to kiss you right now,” he said in that low, chocolatey tone.

Faith. She wanted him to kiss her. And she wanted to kick herself for wanting him to kiss her. Especially after his deception—she knew she was playing right into his hands.

Suddenly she found her own hand reaching out to brush the little V of skin that was visible where he’d unbuttoned his measly two buttons.

His smile returning, he moved even closer. And closer still. He still had his chin propped so their faces were level. For once she wouldn’t have to tilt her head all the way back to kiss him.

“May I kiss you now?” he asked.

Why was he asking? Why didn’t he just go ahead and kiss her? He’d done the same thing at Vauxhall Gardens and in the Panorama, asking her permission, making her agree.

She wished he’d just kiss her instead of asking, because she knew she should refuse, and she felt bad for being too weak to say
no.

“May I?” he pressed. He was so close, there hardly seemed to be enough space to breathe. Or maybe it was just that
she
couldn’t breathe. Nor could she open her mouth to speak. She wanted to say
yes
, but all she could manage was a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

That was good enough for him.

His mouth crossed that last little space and proceeded to kiss her senseless. Her cards fluttered to the floor as he managed to maneuver her onto his lap. She sighed and leaned into him, feeling every part of her that was touching him—which was
many
parts, what with her being cradled in his lap like that—tingling, her nerves thrumming, her senses swirling. Loving it, loving
him
, she hooked an arm around his neck and kissed him and kissed him for she didn’t know how long.

Finally they had to come up for air, and her head slowly cleared, and she began to realize where she was. On James’s lap… in the heated greenhouse… in the garden he was
meant
to be enjoying with Amanda…

Faith, what had she done?

She’d let James kiss her again, that’s what. And pull her onto his lap! The man who was supposed to be marrying her friend—no, the man who
had
to marry her friend, or Aunt Frances would be devastated.

She was appalled at herself. Absolutely, positively appalled.

“Juliana?” James whispered. When she met his gaze, he broke into a smile. ”Your eyes are blue. Deep blue.”

She didn’t want him smiling at her. He needed to be smiling at Amanda. “Obviously it’s getting too dark for you to see,” she snapped. “My eyes are hazel.”

He laughed. And then he kissed her again, and she let him, which made her feel better and worse all at the same time.

“It
is
getting dark,” he finally admitted, sounding reluctant. “We need to go find the others before the garden’s gates are locked.”

She slid off his lap, and he turned her around and buttoned her dress. And tucked in her hair that had slipped from its pins. And buttoned his two buttons, shrugged into his tailcoat, and knotted his neckcloth in place, haphazardly as usual. And she reached to straighten it, unable to help herself, even though she knew she shouldn’t. And she let him kiss her again, a little sweet kiss that made her heart skitter.

But surely his heart, she reminded herself, didn’t skip a beat.

She had to remember he would never love her. No matter how much he liked kissing her, he’d never be more than her friend. He needed to become friends with Amanda instead.

She
really
couldn’t let him kiss her again after this. Or touch her again. Ever.

He gathered the cards from the table and the floor, and then they left the greenhouse and went back to the middle of the garden where everyone else was waiting.

Aunt Frances had obviously been kissing Lord Malmsey; in the dim light of the setting sun, they both looked flushed and happy. Aunt Frances had finished packing up the basket, and Lord Malmsey had folded the blanket. He was holding it over his arm.

Naturally, the duke and Amanda had done nothing to help. The two of them were much too aristocratic to do servants’ work. And of course they hadn’t kissed, either. Neither of them was flushed. No doubt Amanda had gone off with the duke purposely, specifically to avoid any kissing.

So Juliana had been kissed instead. And she very much feared she looked flushed, though she was quite certain she didn’t look happy.

Never again, she reminded herself fiercely.

“Where have you been?” Amanda asked. “David and I have been looking all over for you.”

For a moment, Juliana felt puzzled, but then she remembered the duke’s name was David. How could she have forgotten the name of the man she was planning to marry? And when had Amanda—proper, reserved Amanda—begun calling the duke by his given name? She was planning to marry James, and she was still calling
him
Lord Stafford.

Nothing was right tonight. Nothing. Nothing was going well. Nothing made any sense.

Her stomach hurt.

“We were playing cards,” James explained, pulling the deck out of his pocket to prove it. “All of you went off, so we decided to go in the greenhouse where it was warm and play cards.”

Nobody looked suspicious. Apparently it was a reasonable explanation. Nobody, after all—most especially nobody as innocent as Aunt Frances or Amanda—would think playing cards could possibly lead to kissing.

But although that was a relief, Juliana’s stomach still hurt. She had to fix everything. Somehow, some way, she had to get James together with Amanda.

“I’m going to the Pevenseys’ tomorrow night,” she said as they all started walking toward the Stafford carriage. “For a musical evening. I hope you’ll all want to come.” What she would do when they got there, how she would get James together with Amanda, she hadn’t a clue.

But getting them there would be a start.

“I would love to attend a musical evening,” Aunt Frances said as she climbed in.

“I would love to attend, too,” Lord Malmsey agreed, following her.

“So would I,” Amanda said and climbed in next, sitting across from them.

Juliana climbed in herself, taking the opposite end of the seat from Amanda in order to leave space in the middle for James. She gestured to the duke, indicating the spot across from her. “I hope you’ll come, too.”

“Much as I would be delighted to spend the evening with you, my dear, I think I should go to Parliament,” he said as he took the place by Amanda.

How annoying. How absolutely annoying. He was supposed to sit across from her and leave the space by Amanda for James. “I should think you would prefer to attend a musical evening,” she said rather peevishly.

“I abhor the Pevenseys’ musical evenings,” he said, not peevishly in the least. And then he smiled down at her apologetically, and she realized he wasn’t sitting in the space by Amanda, he was sitting in the space by
her
. Rather close, as a matter of fact, so she probably shouldn’t be so annoyed. Perhaps her warmth was already making him more affectionate. She scooted a little closer, so they’d be touching.

And that was when she realized she wasn’t going to be a duchess.

She couldn’t marry the duke.

They were touching, but she didn’t feel a thing. She wasn’t tingling anywhere. She couldn’t even
imagine
sitting on his lap the way she had with James in the greenhouse. Now that she knew what love felt like, she knew she would never have those feelings for the duke.

She felt terrible. The duke was so nice, and he was falling in love with her, but she couldn’t love him back. He’d suffered hurt and rejection throughout his childhood, and now she was going to reject him again. How could she tell him? How could she cast him aside so heartlessly?

And what about Griffin? Poor Griffin. He was going to be so disappointed; he was going to have to start looking for another husband for her. She obviously wouldn’t be marrying this season—it would probably be another year at least. How was she going to tell Griffin?

James climbed in. “I abhor such musical evenings, too,” he said as a footman shut the door. He took the place across from her and settled back, his legs so long his knees touched hers. How annoying when she was immersed in trying to figure out a gentle way to break this distressing news to her brother and the duke.

James smiled at her as though he could tell she was annoyed. As though he found it amusing. “No man worth his salt would choose a musical evening over Parliament,” he informed her.

“A Roman proverb!” Amanda exclaimed.

“It is not!” Juliana snapped.

“It is,” Amanda said reasonably, sounding very bookish. “It alludes to the practice of paying Roman soldiers with rations of salt. Our English word
salary
comes from the Latin word
salarium
, which means salt money.”

“She’s right,” the duke said. “
A man worth his salt
has been a proverb for centuries.”

It was a very long ride home.

LORD MALMSEY
was the youngest man in attendance at the Pevenseys’ musical evening.

“Where is everyone?” Amanda asked.

Actually, the Pevenseys’ drawing room was teeming with people. But all of them—save Lord Malmsey and a few doddering old men—were female. Remembering the way James and the duke had reacted to her invitation last night, Juliana sighed. “I guess most gentlemen
would
prefer to sit through Parliament than an evening of music.”

“Except for Lord Malmsey,” Amanda said.

“If it weren’t for my aunt, he’d probably be at Parliament, too.” Indeed, Lord Malmsey had made a beeline for Aunt Frances the moment they’d walked in the door. The two of them were off in a corner, whispering, even now.

Whispering endearments, no doubt. Lord Malmsey was looking more and more besotted—and more anxious about his still-intact engagement—every day. Juliana wished more than ever that Lord Malmsey could call off the wedding, but wishing didn’t change facts. It just wasn’t possible, not if he ever wanted to show his face in society again.

Amanda clutched Juliana’s arm. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“My father,” she said, looking even more miserable than Lord Malmsey.

If Aunt Frances knew Lord Malmsey was engaged, she’d look more miserable than both of them put together. Juliana’s projects all seemed to be falling apart. She still hadn’t figured out how to break the news to the duke or her brother. “What about your father?” she asked Amanda.

But before Amanda could answer, Lady Stafford waltzed up. “Good evening, Lady Juliana!” All smiles in contrast to everyone else, James’s mother was accompanied by Lord Cavanaugh, who, while older than Lord Malmsey, at least wasn’t in his dotage. “It’s a pleasure to see you here.”

“I adore music,” Juliana said. “I was thrilled to receive Lady Pevensey’s invitation.”

“This is your first season, isn’t it?” Lord Cavanaugh asked dryly.

“Oh, hush,” Lady Stafford said. “It shall be an enchanting event.” She turned back to Juliana. “Are you attending Lady Hartley’s breakfast on Sunday?”

“I haven’t decided. I’m supposed to have a sewing party.”

“Oh, you must attend—it’s the event of the season. Everyone will be there.”

“Including your sisters?”

“Without a doubt. I must tell you, my sisters are thoroughly enjoying your sewing parties. They haven’t called on my son for an examination in two entire days.”

“I have only four sewing parties left before the baby clothes are due.” Three if she went to Lady Hartley’s breakfast, which she might as well do if no one would be available to sew with her anyway. “I told Lord Stafford his aunts would have less time to ponder their health if they had gentlemen courting them, but he claimed they wouldn’t be interested.”