Emily Hendrickson (16 page)

What a pity she did not have the comfort of Miss Pritchard and her intelligent advice. When she passed the looking glass in the lower hall, she glanced in it, scolding herself, “You will have to rely on what common sense you have, dear girl.”

Her thoughts dwelt briefly on Alexander, wondering what he found to occupy himself in Salisbury all day, then realized he would not know of her feelings and likely hoped to avoid a tongue lashing.

Well, he would be relieved, she felt certain, once he knew the decision she had made during the night.

* * * *

Alexander relaxed in the dim recesses of the Rose and Crown, wondering when he could return to the manor. Fine thing, a man driven from his own home just because he had teased the woman who pretended to be his wife. All this in aid of avoiding a disagreeable marriage, only to find himself tangled in a plot not of his making. Yet he had adjusted to it, he decided, thinking of Juliet and the charms she’d revealed while in the rosebud nightgown.

He drained his ale, then made to leave the inn, only to duck back into the shade of its door once again.
It couldn’t be.
His eyes must have played tricks on him. There was no possible way in which Camilla Shelford could have tracked him to Salisbury. He inched out once again and could see nothing of the woman he thought he had glimpsed. An overactive imagination, that’s what it was.

However, he prudently decided to head back to Woodbury and say nothing of his suspicions. After all, even if by some remote chance Camilla was in Salisbury, there was nothing and no one to lead her to Woodbury.

When he rode through the village, he noted that the little shop in the village center was overflowing with customers and rightly figured that the main interest of the calls was gossip. Yet, each woman would purchase something while she probed for news. At least he and Juliet had served some purpose—an increase in custom for the village shop!

* * * *

The house smelled deliciously of flowers and baking, beeswax and the heliotrope scent that Juliet preferred. He hunted through the various rooms only to find Mrs. Bassett at work, polishing silver.

“Your wife is in the garden, my lord,” she said, unconsciously echoing the
very
words she had used the day Alexander had arrived at the manor some weeks ago.

* * * *

At the sound of footsteps on the gravel, Juliet looked up from where she contemplated the flowers she intended to use on the morrow. Wiping her hands on the apron she had put over her yellow morning gown, she rose, squared her shoulders, and prepared to say what she must.

She couldn’t blame him for his wary look as he approached. Poor man, the last time he had seen her she had tossed a pillow at him, behaving like a silly goose.

“How does everything proceed?” he asked hesitantly.

“Well, I believe. Although I am pleased you are home so early. I should like the benefit of your experience, for I feel certain you have attended any number of balls, even small ones like this, and I could use a bit of help.”

“Certainly.” He took a step toward her.

She crumpled the apron in her hands, suddenly shy and unsure of what she intended to say. Was she correct? Yet she must clear the air and free him from any feeling of guilt in the matter.

“There is a problem?” he prompted, coming a step closer and removing his hat only to thrust a hand through his hair in what seemed to her a gesture of frustration or possibly annoyance.

“Alexander, there is something I must say, and I beg you not to interrupt until I am finished,” she began, ignoring his startled exclamation of surprise.

“I
must
apologize for my behavior last evening. I was a silly little fool to react so to your words about my gown. Could we be friends again?”

She was staring at the graveled walk, a pity, for she quite missed the sudden gleam that lit his eyes, which had disappeared by the time she looked up to search his face for a reaction to her words.

“Of course,” he said in a manner guaranteed to soothe her nerves. “I am relieved you feel that way, but I must confess my own guilt in the matter. I am sorry that I behaved so when I should have suspected you were not accustomed to such conduct. Forgive me, Juliet?”

“Indeed, I do.” She dropped the badly treated apron, smoothing it down with nervous fingers while trying to think of something else to say. He took another step to her side, looking down at her with kindly regard.

“I went to Salisbury to find something to atone for my behavior.”

“There was no need,” she began to protest, and he silenced her by tossing his hat on the stone bench, then placing a finger across her mouth.

“There was every need.” He reached into an inside pocket to take out a little packet that he held in his hand, teasing her with its possible contents. “That ivory gown is lovely on you, and if I hadn’t been so desirous of seeing you in green satin, I would have praised it at once. In a way it is your own fault, for I do believe green satin would be most elegant on you. However, as a gown for your first ball ivory moire is most suitable.”

“And?” Juliet urged, curiosity consuming her.

“I found what I think is a finishing touch for your gown tomorrow evening. I trust you will find it an acceptable expression of contrition.” He extended his hand, offering his gift with a watchful gaze.

Juliet accepted the packet with trembling hands, then tore open the wrapping to find an exquisite little pearl brooch, precisely the sort to dress up the neck of her ivory gown without being ostentatious. “It is quite perfect, my lord,” she said, feeling breathless, her heart fluttering. Other than her pearl necklace and ear bobs and the betrothal ring Alexander had loaned her, she had no jewelry. This was quite splendid.

He looked beyond where they stood to note that Marius Winterton was observing the little scene. “Your stepbrother watches us. Perhaps we ought to convince him that we have truly reconciled our differences?” Alexander’s voice was lazy and his manner deceptively casual.

“Just so,” Juliet said at once, before considering what Alexander might deem an acceptable way of convincing Marius.

She discovered immediately as she was swept into Alexander’s arms to be soundly kissed in a manner she had not experienced heretofore, even in the other kisses Alexander had bestowed. This kiss was lingering and most stirring, although it turned her knees to blancmange again and her pulse tripled. She clutched at his fine Bath cloth coat with desperation lest she swoon as virgins in those silly novels were wont to do. Perhaps they weren’t so silly after all, she thought.

Once released, Juliet leaned against him, thankful for the strength of his arms about her, for she was quite unable to support herself. Taking a deep breath, she summoned a voice that proved less shaken than she’d have expected.

“If that did not convince him, he is beyond hope,” she whispered.

“Good,” Alexander said quietly. “Now, perhaps we can go inside, and you can tell me all these things you wish to discuss.”

“Discuss?” she echoed, thinking her brain had turned to fried mush again.

“For the ball?” he said, twinkling a gentle smile down at her while leading her into the house.

“Oh, the ball,” she replied, recalling the event that had totally absorbed her attention only minutes before.

“Decorations?” he prompted. “Perhaps the punch? Or do you worry about the time to serve the supper?”

“All of the mentioned,” Juliet said with a quavering laugh, accepting his company to the morning room, where her plans were spread out for his approval. They spent a most agreeable hour going over the final arrangements, with Alexander soothing Juliet’s nerves considerably on all points.

* * * *

Marius had little to say at dinner. He studied his younger stepsister as though greatly puzzled by her.

Lord Taunton nattered on about the satisfactory sale of his unwanted property and the unexpected charm offered by Miss Lucy Tackley.

“The young lady is not only pretty, but I understand her father has provided a most acceptable dowry,” Alexander tossed out as Juliet closed the dining room door following a pleasant dinner.

She left them to their port and a discussion of the finer points of negotiating a marriage settlement. Would Alexander suggest to Marius that the time had come for Juliet’s funds to be released? She sighed at the complications she envisioned. The money would doubtlessly be handed to Alexander, and she would have to tax him with giving it to her.

Men considered women far too lacking in intelligence to handle money of their own. Never mind that she had done very well in administering the manor before Alexander’s arrival. He most likely would insist upon some arrangement for her whereupon some man controlled the sum of money, doling it out to her in bits and snippets. A banker in Salisbury, no doubt. Unless Alexander decided she could not remain in this house once their charade was over. She hadn’t considered this possibility lately, for he had seemed quite the friend.

She sat down at the harp, plucking out a melody while she wondered where she might go. Perhaps Miss Pritchard might agree to join her in a little village like Woodbury? They could set up a modest household and live quietly. The thought of never seeing Alexander again was so depressing she began to play a melancholy piece of music that had Alexander frowning when he entered the room.

“Come now, something more lively than that!” he exclaimed. Seating himself at the clavichord, he commenced to play the lively sonata they had worked on the past days, a Mozart piece Juliet thought her favorite.

She joined in at once, and when Marius and Lord Taunton peered in on their way to play a game of billiards, they found a congenial, smiling couple who looked for all the world as though they had been married for ages.

“Lovebirds, bah,” Marius said with a sour expression.

Juliet heard him, but dared not take her eyes from the music. If he but knew the whole of it!

* * * *

The ball, small as it might be, appeared to be accounted a great success right from the start. In Woodbury the notion of arriving fashionably late to a gathering had never taken hold, so that early in the evening all thirty guests had arrived and the musicians were playing a gay tune softly in the background until such time that Juliet and Alexander led the dancers in the minuet.

Juliet had never felt quite so self-assured. Earlier, Alexander had knocked, waiting politely until she invited him inside. He admired her gown, pinned on the brooch in precisely the right place, then escorted her to the ground floor with all evidence of pride in her appearance. Juliet glowed. From that moment on, nothing could or would go wrong.

Nor had it. The punch was just right, neither too sweet nor too sour. The flowers were obligingly lovely, arranged in every vase to be found in the house.

“My dear Lady Hawkswood,” Mrs. Ogleby said with a pleased smile as she inspected the decor of the ground-floor rooms, “you have exceeded all expectations. This ball will be talked about for years to come.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ogleby. Mrs. Bassett has been an enormous help. She showed me how to open up the rooms so we could have a great deal more space. I am most fortunate in my assistance.” Juliet looked about her with an air of contentment; the house had never looked better in her eyes.

“And your husband, if I make no mistake,” Mrs. Ogleby said archly. “We are all pleased you have reconciled with him. A handsome gentleman like his lordship ought not be left on his own for long. There are too many unscrupulous women who will take advantage of such a situation, if you know what I mean.”

Juliet didn’t, but murmured a soft agreement, resolved to ask Alexander about what had been said when she had the chance. What a shock poor Mrs. Ogleby would have if she knew the truth of the situation. Juliet would be sunk far beyond the pale, declared no better than she should be.

As for Lord Hawkswood, Juliet suspected nothing but a touch of scandal—soon to be forgotten—would mar his life. Life was different for men; they had their own standards to live by. In a way Juliet envied his independence, quite forgetting the muddle she had drawn him into, one he declared was difficult to extricate himself from without the greatest difficulty.

Alexander claimed her hand for the minuet, leading her out to be followed by the Oglebys, the squire and his wife, the Tackleys, and the parson with Mary Otterly, then the others of lesser degree as was proper in a minuet.

“You have found excellent musicians, my lord,” Juliet whispered from behind the lovely birthday fan Alexander had given her, a fan that went so perfectly with the ivory gown.

“They are good, aren’t they,” he replied, pleased for her, but also impressed with the talent to be found in such a remote area as Salisbury and its environs.

“I understand they play for the assemblies during the Season. How fortunate they were free this evening.”

“As to that, I have found a title commands a certain edge when obtaining what I want. Usually,” he added, not at all certain where he stood with the elusive Juliet. She might have melted in his arms, but he had not forgotten her claim that she hated him. It was possible to experience both emotions at the same time.

However, he thought while executing a neat turn, then keeping eye contact as dictated during the dance, she showed promise. Her apology was well done, and it revealed a maturity of character he’d not expected. Not that he had been without blame; he’d had no business to be at her about the green satin gown. Even were she his wife in truth, she would have the right to select her clothes as she pleased. That would not prevent him from choosing one for her as a gift, however. And
that
would be green satin.

He held her hand at her shoulder level, taking notice of the graceful line of her arms, the contour of her bodice, where the brooch he had given her sat so nicely. Life with Juliet would have its positive aspect, he was sure.

Juliet sank in a elegant curtsy at the conclusion to the dance, wondering what Alexander was thinking to give him such an expression. He looked enormously satisfied with something. She hoped it was with their modest ball.