Juliana (35 page)

Lady Stafford flashed Lord Cavanaugh, who was courting her, a fond smile. “My sisters are older and set in their ways.”

“I think they’re just bored and need something to do. Something to get them out of their house after my sewing project is complete.”

“Perhaps you’re right, dear. They’ve been helping me renovate one of Stafford House’s bedrooms, but that will be finished soon, too. I cannot imagine what else could be found to occupy them afterwards. They won’t hear of redecorating their own house.”

Standing on the temporary stage she’d had erected in her drawing room, Lady Pevensey clapped her hands. “If you’ll all take your seats, we’re ready to begin!”

“I shall think about your sisters,” Juliana promised Lady Stafford before turning to find a seat. “There must be something they could do.”

Aunt Frances and Lord Malmsey had seated themselves in the last row, so she headed toward the front in order to give them some privacy. After this afternoon’s party, she had a hundred and fifty-seven baby items completed, which meant she needed eighty-three more. That hadn’t seemed an impossible task, with four parties remaining—slightly more than twenty items per party. Perfectly reasonable, especially if she made a few by herself in between. But with only three parties…

“We need to talk.” As she slid onto a first-row chair, Amanda grabbed her arm. “We cannot talk up here, right in front of the musicians.”

Juliana didn’t want to talk; she wanted to listen. She normally spent hours on her harp, but lately all her projects had left her scant time for playing. But Amanda looked panicked. “Very well,” Juliana said, walking around to take a chair in a middle row. “What do you need to tell me about your father?”

Amanda took the chair beside her. “I’ve received word that he’ll be arriving in three days. Early Sunday evening.” She clutched her hands together in her lap, perhaps to keep them from shaking. “He’s coming to see to the final details of my wedding.”

Juliana reached over to squeeze her friend’s white-knuckled fingers. “We still have time—”

“No, we don’t! It’s scheduled for a week from Saturday, and—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lady Pevensey announced, “I’m honored to introduce our first guest musicians. Miss Harriet Kent will perform Mozart’s Sonata in C Major on the pianoforte, accompanied by her sister, Miss Hillary Kent, on the violin.”

The room fell silent while the Kent sisters minced their way to the stage.

“A week from Saturday,” Amanda repeated, “and—”

“Shh!” someone hissed behind them.

Juliana folded her hands in her own lap. ”Wait,” she whispered to Amanda.

Her friend waited, as tense as the younger Miss Kent’s bowstrings. When the lively notes of the first movement filled the air, she wasted no time before resuming their conversation in a lower tone. “My wedding is a week from Saturday. My time is running out. I need James to compromise me—I must try again to trick him.”

“You must not!”

“Shh!” someone else hissed.

“You must not,” Juliana repeated in a whisper. “That would be unethical and dishonest. We shouldn’t have tried it the first time, and I won’t try it again.”

“We have no choice!”

“Shh!”

“Shh!”

“Shh!”

Juliana twisted in her chair to glance behind her. Several people were glaring. All women. A couple of the aging men were already nodding off. “Hush,” she murmured, turning back to Amanda. “Of course you have a choice. You can choose to act warmly towards James. Once you become friends, he’ll propose to you and agree to the compromise.”

She was beginning to think it would never happen. Or maybe she was beginning to
hope
it would never happen. Because James would certainly kiss Amanda if he proposed to her, and even though Juliana couldn’t marry him, the thought of James kissing anyone else made her stomach hurt.

She leaned closer. “I have an idea,” she whispered in desperation. She knew her friend wouldn’t like it, but she’d feel much better about abandoning the duke if she could offer a replacement, and Amanda didn’t seem to want to kiss James anyway. “Would you like to marry the duke?”

“No!” Amanda looked horrified. “I told you I would never marry a by-blow!”

Whispers broke out behind them, and a few more people hissed
“Shh!”

Juliana wished Amanda hadn’t said
by-blow
quite so loud. “Whyever do you keep going off with the duke, then?” she pressed. “Why have you begun calling him David?”

“Well, he’s very nice. I think we’re becoming friends. But there’s a big difference between a friend and a husband.”

Didn’t Juliana know it.

She was disappointed but not surprised. She’d known Amanda kept going off with the duke only to avoid kissing James. “Maybe you should choose another man,” she suggested. Plenty of gentlemen were still asking Amanda to dance at every ball. “At the Teddington ball on Saturday—”

“I want Lord Stafford. Besides, there isn’t enough time to choose another man and expect him to propose.”

“We have a little more than a week—”

“No, we don’t. My father will be here Sunday, and knowing him he probably won’t let me out of the house after that.”

Drat. That did rather complicate matters. It seemed Juliana would have to see to it that James kissed Amanda—and not as part of a plot—before Sunday.

She would have to get them alone together. Truly alone. It was the only solution. James seemed more interested in pursuing Juliana’s friendship than Amanda’s, so she couldn’t count on him to take the initiative. And Amanda’s fear of intimacy was obviously making her cling to anyone she instinctively felt would
never
try to kiss her—such as the duke—so she couldn’t be counted on, either. If Juliana wanted James and Amanda to kiss, she would have to make sure there was no one else around for either of them to cling to,
and
she would have to make sure they were alone long enough to become friends.

But if Juliana could manage all that, everything else would work itself out. Once they were friends, James would warm up to Amanda. And once he kissed her, Amanda’s cool exterior would melt—having experienced James’s kisses herself, Juliana was confident of that. After all,
she’d
nearly gotten herself compromised by James on several occasions, and she didn’t even
want
to marry the fellow!

And once all that was taken care of, the rest would fall into place, and everyone would end up married to the right person. Except for Juliana herself.

Her stomach hurt like the very dickens.

But how to get James and Amanda to go somewhere alone? She couldn’t imagine. Amanda wouldn’t agree to an outing without a chaperone, but perhaps Juliana could plan another group outing and then claim Aunt Frances felt ill. And she felt ill. And the duke felt ill.

Oh, bother, that would never work.

It felt like there was a dagger lodged in her stomach.

She’d figure out something tomorrow. Right after she figured out how she would finish eighty-three more items of baby clothes with only three sewing parties instead of four.

“Are you all right?” Amanda asked.

“Shh!”

Amanda lowered her voice. “Why are you clutching your middle?”

Juliana unfolded her arms and tried to draw a calming breath. She was nearing the end of her rope, she feared. One more tiny hiccup and she’d find herself curled up on Lady Pevensey’s exquisite Turkey carpet.

“I’m fine,” she gritted out, ignoring another chorus of
Shh!
“Just fine.”

But although she normally loved music and the Misses Kent were more than proficient performers, Mozart didn’t give her any enjoyment tonight. And neither did the Handel or Beethoven that came after.

She should have stayed home. She needed to sew. Even more important, she needed to discourage James’s attentions so he’d turn to Amanda instead. And for
that
, she needed a few hours in the kitchen.

It was time to bring out her secret weapon: Miss Rebecca Chase’s lemon slices.

LEMON SLICES

Take a measure of Butter and one of Sugar and mixe them together with the grated rinde of two Lemons. Put in two Eggs and then Flower, a spoon of leavening, and a little Milk. Put in a loaf tin and Bake until it rises and turns golde. Make holes with a skewer and pour in the juice of two Lemons. Leave the cake until colde and then turn from the tin and cut it into slices.

The sour lemons will turn a man sour to your charms. I thwarted my grandmother's matchmaking scheme twice by serving these slices to the dratted suitors.
—Miss Rebecca Chase, 1695

FOR FIVE DAYS
—ever since she’d come to his house and offered to volunteer—James had been thinking about getting Juliana alone in one of the Institute’s treatment rooms.

He’d barely listened to a word of yesterday’s Parliament session. Overnight, his dreams had been full of sunshine and flowers and thin dresses. This morning, as he’d shaved and dressed, he’d let his mind roam free among various fantasy scenarios. In his favorite scenario, after a great deal of kissing, Juliana confessed her love for James, and then they both mounted Velocity and rode him over to Castleton’s house to deliver in person the joyous news of their engagement.

All right, that one wasn’t
entirely
plausible.

Especially since, as it turned out, fate was conspiring against him today.

Juliana rushed in as the clock struck one. Juggling two baskets while she folded her umbrella, she made her way through the crowded reception room. “I’m sorry, but I cannot stay long. I’ve instructed the driver to come back in three hours. I’ve much too much sewing to do.” She paused and blinked. “What are you doing behind the counter?”

“Playing assistant while I interview for a new one,” he said, frowning at her dress. For no good reason he could imagine, she was wearing a rather plain garment made of some sort of thick material—wool?—and had filled in her neckline with a froufrou scarf. Most displeasing.

“Another assistant has left?” She came around to join him and set down her baskets. “Again?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Somehow, another one found herself with child.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it. It’s an epidemic.”

“I suppose you gave her fifty pounds?”

“Yes. She was much relieved, but now I need to find someone new. What did you bring me?” he asked, lifting the doily that covered one of the baskets.

“Fabric.” Laughing at the look on his face, she pulled out a handful of white material and waved it under his nose. “Would you care for some? Appetizing, isn’t it?”

He gave her a wry smile. “I thought maybe you’d made some sweets.”

“I don’t have time to bake. I barely have time to breathe.” She sighed and delved into the second basket. “But I baked anyway. Have a lemon slice.” After he took one, she shooed him toward the back. “Go vaccinate some of these people before even more show up, or else they’ll have to stand out in the rain. I’ll take over here, and I’ll let you know if anyone promising comes in to apply for the position.”

James went, finding the lemon slice delicious but grumbling all the way nonetheless. He’d never resented having too many patients before—the more people who agreed to be immunized, after all, the sooner smallpox would become a thing of the past. But just now, it wasn’t sniffling children he most wanted to see in his treatment rooms. It was Juliana.

Without a stupid scarf covering her up to her chin.

Between sewing baby clothes, Juliana proved a model of efficiency, but he and the other physician could vaccinate only so fast. Nearly three hours passed before the number of patients dwindled enough so that everyone waiting had a seat. When Dr. Payton left and two more doctors arrived for the second shift, James heaved a sigh of relief and joined Juliana behind the counter.

There was a little crease between her brows, and though her gaze flicked to meet his for a moment, it was soon back on the task in her hands. Her shoulders looked stiff and hunched. He stepped behind her to massage them, finding her muscles tense and knotted.

“Come into the back with me,” he murmured. “I’ll make you feel better.”

“I cannot. The carriage will be here any minute, and until then I must keep sewing.” Though her needle stabs seemed frantic and rather random, she was getting the job done. “Besides, we really shouldn’t be alone, James. You know what will happen.”

Of course he knew what would happen. He would kiss her, and she would like it, which would eventually lead to better things. Though he knew it was only a matter of time before she realized that she, not prissy Lady Amanda, belonged with him, he was beginning to get impatient.

He kept rubbing her shoulders, firmly but tenderly, wondering why her taut muscles refused to relax. “Just for a minute,” he wheedled. “Nothing will happen in just a minute.”

In two or three minutes, however…

“Your afternoon assistant has yet to arrive,” she said without looking up. “We cannot leave all these people out here unsupervised.”

She was right about that. He sighed and planted a kiss on the top of her head, not caring if the patients saw. “No luck finding a new assistant?”