Emily Hendrickson (15 page)

Alexander crossed the room to stand by Juliet’s side, placing a possessive hand on her shoulder. The ladies took note of that gesture and exchanged smiles.

The conversation became general until Alexander spoke up. “We have been meaning for some time to invite everyone here for a party.”

“True, we discussed it just this morning,” Juliet added, mindful what he had said earlier. “Quite definitely a party.”

“A ball?” Mary inquired breathlessly.

“Indeed, why not?” Alexander said with another caressing gesture to Juliet’s over-sensitive shoulder. “I cannot recall when last a ball was held here. You are all invited.”

The ladies began to chatter at once while Juliet rose, ostensibly to arrange some cups on the cart. “I wish you would have spoken of this with me first,” she said to Alexander in a mere undertone.

“But you doubtless would have agreed with me, my dear. Smile, or they will think you do not wish the ball, and Mary will be crushed.”

“By all means, Mary must not be crushed.” But Juliet knew what he meant, and she smiled until her jaw ached.

Once the callers had left, full of the news to spread throughout Woodbury, Juliet retreated to her bedroom. What a good thing she had shoved the chest in front of that connecting door. Alexander could not tease her now.

She was wrong.

She had settled at her desk and was drawing up a list of all who must be invited when the door to the hall opened and Alexander walked in. Of course he immediately noticed the chest and gave Juliet a mocking look.

“I insist upon some privacy, my lord,” she said chillingly. “It is not proper for you to come charging in here any time of the day or night without so much as a by-your-leave.”

“Marius was in the hall. I dared not knock.”

“I recall my father knocking on my mother’s door, and they were truly married!”

“That is neither here nor there. Have you a list for our ball?” He bent over her shoulder to examine the names she had put down so far and nodded. “Do not forget the parson. He’s to marry the squire’s daughter, you know.”

“I do, but I’m surprised you know anything about it.”

“Common gossip, my dear.”

Juliet leaned back in her chair, nibbling the end of her pen, a pretty carved bit of wood. At length she said, “I had not expected to find life so busy when I took refuge here. Nor you here, for that matter.”

“Thank Camilla Shelford for that. Had that insufferable chit left me in peace, I’d have remained in London.” Alexander paced to the window, where he stood gazing out across the gardens, hands behind his back. He looked over to where Juliet sat, waiting for her reaction.

She returned that look. “And be none the wiser for my having trespassed in your home.”

“Or used my name,” he added with a curious expression on his face.

“You do feel that we shall muddle through this with no great difficulty, do you not?” Juliet asked anxiously.

“Of course, of course,” he said, leaving the window to contemplate the chest Juliet had tugged before the connecting door. “What if I need to talk with you in private?” he queried.

“Knock,” was the terse reply.

“What if there is another summer storm?” he inquired, a canny expression momentarily crossing his face.

“I shall bury my head beneath the covers, stop my ears with my fingers, and sing to myself,” Juliet said, firmly repressing the desire to add, “so there.”

“What if Marius comes to speak with you? And what of Mrs. Bassett? She is bound to talk.”

Juliet shrugged and gave up the fight. “Very well. Put it back. But I still want my privacy!”

“As much as you please, my dear.” He gave the chest a push. “And now for the ball. You will need a new gown—order one from Salisbury, a green satin, I think. Give Mrs. Bassett the menu as soon as you have one so she can order the foods. And I shall obtain the musicians.”

“I have never given a ball before,” Juliet warned.

“Neither have I, so we shall fumble our way along and hope for the best.” He gave the chest a final shove and opened the connecting door. “This is much better. I prefer coming and going through here rather than the hall.”

“So I gathered,” Juliet said dryly. The man was hopeless. He simply could not get it through his head that she wanted to be left alone.

* * * *

The following days were busy ones. She ordered a gown from the mantua-maker in Salisbury said by Mrs. Ogleby to be the best. Along with Juliet’s measurements and a page torn from a recent copy of
The Lady’s Magazine
went a request for ivory moire to be trimmed with pearl beads. She would pay for the gown herself. Alexander had said green satin, but she was not going to yield on everything. It was quite enough he had his way about the chest.

Not that he had intruded upon her privacy since then. To her surprise, he’d been amazingly good about knocking the few times he had a question for her, or wanted her opinion on something. Otherwise, he left her alone as she preferred. And Juliet insisted she was happy that way. Indeed, she had nearly convinced herself such was the case.

The musicians had been hired, and Mrs. Bassett consulted not only about the menu but opening the rooms to increase the space available for dancing.

“There are sliding doors over here, my lady. A stout footman, such as his lordship has hired for the occasion, will make short work of opening them.”

Juliet was relieved to note that there would be ample space for refreshments, then worried about the decorations, flowers being what they were.

“Temperamental?” Alexander asked in bewilderment. “Flowers have tempers?”

“The weather affects them. Too hot and they fade rapidly. Too cool and the buds delay their opening.”

He shrugged, gave her a strange look, then left the drawing room, where she had spread out her papers.

“His lordship will come through for you, madam,” Mrs. Bassett said comfortably. “Just like his father, he is.”

Which thought intrigued Juliet for hours.

The next crisis came when her gown was delivered. The mantua-maker arrived in her own modest carriage to make a final fitting for so impressive a customer as the Viscountess Hawkswood.

Juliet put on the gown, enormously pleased with the results of her order. It was undoubtedly the loveliest thing she had ever owned. The neckline was probably a trifle low, but she had sufficient bosom to do it justice. She puffed out the tiny sleeves, then turned before her looking glass lo admire the pretty design done in pearl beads around the hem. It was even more elegant than the illustration.

Then Alexander knocked, entering without waiting for her to reply. “Mrs. Bassett said your gown had come.” He halted just inside the door, staring at Juliet as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Ivory? Trimmed with pearls?”

Juliet met his gaze, tilted her chin, then said, “I am a trifle tired of green, my dearest. Do you not agree that this will be a most satisfactory gown for the coming ball?”

“Beautiful, my love.”

But Juliet knew there would be words to follow and wondered if real husbands and wives had these arguments regarding such trifling matters as a dress. Of course she had ordered what she wished; he’d had no right to tell her what she should have, and so she would tell him as soon as might be.

It was not easy.

“See how well the pretty fan you gave me goes with the gown?” she queried once the mantua-maker had made a few adjustments and gone on her way.

“Why did you order ivory moire instead of green satin?” Alexander demanded. He had wanted to see her in green satin. He could well envision the effect of the lush satin combined with her hair and that incredible skin, not to mention her beautiful eyes. Whenever he had made a suggestion to his former mistress, she had complied with eager willingness. But then, he was forced to admit, he paid the bills, and she wore the gown merely to please him.

But why couldn’t Juliet have seen how well she would look in such a gown?

“What is the matter with this gown?” she demanded. “Is the style not the very latest? The fabric lovely? I know what it is— you like to give orders and expected me to obey your wishes instantly. You are a spoiled, pampered boy, my lord. Well, hear this,” she said quietly, “I am not your wife, no matter that everyone thinks I am, nor can you command me as you would a servant. I have paid the bill from my own funds. The dress is mine, and as such I hope you will not be displeased by my appearance in it. But I
will
wear it.”

Alexander watched the flash of her eyes, thinking passion brought out golden lights in them. What a lovely creature she was. He studied the effect of the ivory moire against her skin and hair and decided it looked nice—but not to be compared with green satin. Next time he would go to the mantua-maker himself to order Juliet’s gown, and next time it would definitely be green satin—trimmed in ivory lace.

“There was no need for you to pay the bill,” Alexander remembered to tell her. “When I set up the ball, I intended to pay for your gown. And I am
not
spoiled or pampered,” he finished, for those words had stung badly. True, people were inclined to let him have his way, but after all, he was a very sensible man with sensible proposals.

“Indeed?” she said while crossing to place her lovely fan gently upon her desk. “If you say so.”

Her words made him feel foolish, and he stalked from her room in high dudgeon.

Dinner was an ordeal that evening. Marius and Lord Taunton discussed a horse race they had attended, debating the merits of the horses with Alexander. Juliet sat in self-imposed silence at the foot of the table, biding her time until she might escape.

Just before she left the room, Marius spoke up. “If I’d thought you two were not married, this evening has convinced me. The pair of you are acting like an old married couple. Had a tiff, did you?” He guffawed, nudging his friend, who managed a mild chuckle and looked uncomfortable.

“I shan’t bother to answer that remark,” Juliet snapped, “other than to say that if Alexander and I have a difference of opinion, it is not cause for discussion with you.”

Feeling as though she had put her stepbrother nicely in his place, she swept from the room only to come to a halt beyond the closed door when she heard the men break forth in laughter.

Believing herself greatly put upon, she charged up the stairs to her room, slammed the door behind her, shoved the chest back in place before the connecting door, and threw herself on her bed to burst into tears.

“He is a heartless beast,” she sniffed when Pansy entered later to help her from her dinner gown.

“He helped you with your stepbrother, my lady.”

“At the moment I do not wish to hear how good he is. I am angry, most put-upon, and if I wish to have a good cry, I will.”

Pansy, knowing when to make herself scarce, did what she must and hurried away.

Thinking over the evening and that hateful laughter following dinner brought a fresh spate of tears. When a knock came on the door, Juliet muttered, “Who is it?”

“Alexander.”

Wonder of wonders, he didn’t barge in as was his custom. “Go away.”

The door cracked open, and Alexander stuck his head around it to be greeted by a pillow tossed at him.

“I said, go away.”

“I am sorry if your feelings are hurt. I’ll buy you the green satin next time.”

“There won’t be any next time. Just go away!” He went, and Juliet cried all the harder.

Chapter 9

Things always look better in the morning sun, and so Juliet found upon arising. In the small hours of the night she had decided upon her course of action, and all that remained was to see it through, not that she particularly relished the prospect of what she determined necessary.

There was much to be done for the coming ball; she whisked herself from bed with alacrity. This was not the day to be mooning about, regardless of her inner feelings.

She studied a somewhat wan face in her looking glass and decided that with a dusting of rice powder over a hint of rouge she would pass. There was little point in reflecting on what had happened last evening. Most likely Miss Pritchard would tell her she was being a silly goose to fuss so over the green satin gown and to get on with what had to be done.

“Remember, you foolish girl, all this is in aid of freeing you from a man you detest and providing Lord Hawkswood with a haven until that Miss Shelford looks elsewhere,” she scolded the image in her looking glass. Juliet wondered how long it would take. If the girl were truly in love with Alexander, it might take time. Juliet knew that it would take a great deal of time for her to forget the viscount.

When Pansy entered the room, she had a hesitant look on her face, Juliet was amused to see. “Morning, my lady.”

“I suppose the others are up and gone?” Juliet asked with seeming casualness, fiddling with her linen napkin before consuming the dainty breakfast Pansy had brought.

“Indeed. His lordship went off to Salisbury again, and Lord Taunton and your stepbrother took themselves off somewheres,” Pansy said.

“A quiet day, in other words. Good—there is much to be done.”

Pansy gave Juliet a curious look, then took the yellow morning gown from the wardrobe. “The yellow again. You need some new gowns, my lady,” the maid ventured to say.

Juliet was becoming heartily sick of the dress, but she had never owned an extensive wardrobe while at Winterton Hall, and now her lack of suitable clothing was even more vexing.

“Indeed, I do. Perhaps when the ball is over and Lord Hawkswood is off to wherever he intends to go, I can order a few.” Maid and mistress exchanged a look of complete accord.

“Think you your stepbrother will release your funds, then?” Pansy dared to inquire.

“I devoutly hope so.” Juliet tossed her napkin aside after swallowing the last of her morning tea. Then she slipped on the yellow morning gown, tied an apron over the dress, and prepared to go to work.

There was an additional maid and a footman to instruct, Cook to soothe, and Mrs. Bassett to consult. The ball would be held on the morrow, and there was not a moment to lose in preparation, not that the ball would be all that grand. Fifteen couples had accepted her invitation, but they would be a select group of local gentry. Besides, it was Juliet’s first attempt at giving anything so important, and she was terrified she would fail.