Chapter 5
Juliana had not slept a moment.
The house had been quiet when she returned in the early hours, the corridors dim, the air faintly chilled, and yet she had felt as though she carried a fever within her. Even now, seated at the breakfast table with pale morning light spilling through the windows, that fever had not entirely abated.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw masks.
And him. A stranger who was no stranger at all.
The memory returned with humiliating clarity: the assured warmth of his hands as they circled her arms, guiding rather than compelling; the slow ascent of his touch from her thighs almost to the aching spot between her legs; the bold familiarity with which he traced the curve of her side, as though such liberties were his by right.
No man had ever touched her so.
Juliana clamped her thighs tightly together in a desperate effort to wrest her thoughts away from the Duke of Stonevale.
There were more important matters at hand, and she had seen more than enough at the nondescript mansion to know that whatever Kit was doing certainly involved underhanded means—and a heavy dose of scandal, at the very least.
At the very worst, it just might be illegal.
Juliana shuddered inwardly at the very thought.
“Oh, do try to look a little less glum, my dear!” Her grandmother sighed from across the table. “A melancholy nature does little to captivate suitors.”
Juliana managed a feeble smile as she sipped at her tea. There was even less tea today, and not much milk. If this carried on, would Grandmama also have to pretend that a cup of warm water was tea?
She did not have much time to dwell on that thought, for her brother came strolling into the breakfast room with a grand smile on his face. As if that was not astounding enough, he was also impeccably dressed and groomed. He had even shaved.
“Good morning, family!” he announced cheerfully as he took his place at the head of the table. The one footman they had left, Wiggins, immediately scurried to assist him. He turned toward Juliana and their grandmother. “What do we have for breakfast today, ladies?”
Wonder of all wonders, he even appeared as if he was truly looking forward to the meal—that is, of course, until he took stock of the meager spread before him.
“The usual, brother.” Juliana managed an unaffected shrug. “Toast and eggs, with some butter, if we can manage it.”
“Nonsense!” Kit shook his head. “Such fare is a travesty in this household. Wiggins!”
The footman appeared at his summons. “Yes, my lord?”
“Tell Cook to head off to the market to purchase more food. This is hardly enough for a grown man.”
“But we do not have a—”
Before Juliana could finish, though, Wiggins simply bowed to Kit. “Right away, my lord,” he said politely. Wherever he was going to find a cook, Juliana had not a clue.
As the footman disappeared, Juliana regarded her brother. He did not look as if he was still under the influence of… well, whatever concoction gentlemen liked to drink at such parties as the one she had witnessed the prior evening.
His eyes were clear, his smile bright. For someone who saw him as often as she did, it was hard to believe that just last night he had been so panicked that he had flown out of the house with an improperly tied cravat and hair in dreadful need of a good comb.
“Now,” he turned toward their grandmother. “What were you two ladies up to when I so impolitely disturbed your conversation?”
The adoring gaze that Grandmama turned upon him was enough to nearly make Juliana quit her breakfast. “Why, we were just discussing the coming Season, my precious boy! Dear Juliana is yet to find a good match, so we must put a bit of effort into her wardrobe.”
Juliana smiled thinly. As if a few dresses could magically call suitors to appear at their doorstep. Her grandmother truly was getting on in her age if she thought that was all it took for her to become a success this Season.
“Grandmama, there will be no need for new dresses and such,” she said firmly. “I will not impose such a burden on the—”
“Of course, my dearest sister shall have whatever she requires!” Kit announced, his eyes alight with some strange gleam.
“I will tell you what, Grandmama—you and Juliana take the carriage after breakfast and go shopping. Buy some gloves, hats, and shoes while you are at it. No expense shall be spared for dear Juliana this Season!”
To say that she was astonished would have been an understatement. Even shocked was putting it a little too mildly.
But then, perhaps, Kit truly had such an inadequate understanding of money that he believed a few winnings at the tables would be enough to revive their flagging fortunes and stave off the wagging tongues.
No dressmaker worth their salt would accept the promise of payment from someone whose fortunes had dwindled to such an extent.
“I am afraid that no dressmaker would take our credit,” she told him with a soft sigh. “Really, Kit, it hardly matters. I can sit out this Season. Tell everyone that my constitution has become frail all of a sudden or something of the sort.”
“You will do no such thing!” their grandmother rebuked her sharply. “I have mingled amongst the ton for far longer than you both have, and I know very well that if you wish to sink lower in their estimation, all you will have to do is show the slightest hint of weakness.”
“Grandmama is right, Julie,” Kit added somberly. “You must get new gowns. I insist. And we shall pay for every item in cash, not credit. That should be enough to dissuade the rumors.”
Juliana looked at him in astonishment. “Cash? But how?”
He reached over to pat her hand. A gesture meant to reassure her, she supposed. “Business has been very good lately,” he told her. “My investments have finally paid off.”
“Wonderful!” Grandmama clapped her hands. “Well then, I shall have the carriage ready for our trip after breakfast.”
Kit smiled. “You do that, Grandmama. Make sure our Juliana has only the finest dresses, just in time for the Hamptons’ ball.”
“But that’s in three days!” Juliana cried out in protest.
“Well, you had better get ready then, dear sister,” he laughed. “Things are only going to get better from here on out.”
Juliana, however, could only manage a tight smile. “I certainly hope so.”
It was not the first time her brother had claimed some miraculous windfall, only for a slew of misfortune to follow. This time, she prayed that he was right.
If only she could quell the trepidation that pulsed with every beat of her heart.
The atelier of Madame DuPont was where ladies’ allowances went to die. A mere pair of gloves was enough to set one back by a month, not to mention a coat.
Or heaven help her, a dress.
“We shall need at least three, Madame DuPont.”
Juliana turned toward her grandmama in sheer horror. “Three? Grandmama!” she hissed.
A dress from the much-vaunted dressmaker could cost up to two hundred pounds. That was almost as much as she had been tearfully allowed to spend for her presentation gown—and that was including her gloves, shoes, stockings, and fan!
Had her grandmama lost her faculties? That was a fortune in fabric that could have been better put to use paying their staff. Or restocking their pantry. Or making sure that they did not all freeze in the winter.
“Why, three is the bare minimum, my dear,” Grandmama brushed her off with a careless flutter of her fingers. “And there is the Hamptons’ ball, mind you. You will need a new dress for that one, too.”
“Of course, Mademoiselle,” Madame DuPont asserted with a brilliant smile. “I heard that His Grace, the Duke of Stonevale, himself will be in attendance.” The modiste paused as if in deep thought, and then added, “Lady Mosley has already chosen the pink silk for her daughter.”
Grandmama smiled and fanned herself. “Pink has never been your color, my dear. Take a look at this.” She gestured at a roll of satin. “Does this not look more festive?”
Good heavens, it was bright enough to rival the sun itself on a summer’s day. Blinding, in the worst possible way.
Fortunately, Madame DuPont must have taken note of the abject horror that was most likely scrawled across Juliana’s visage, for she smiled and reached beneath the pile of fabric to pull out a bolt of deep sapphire.
With a smile that dripped with practiced ease, she casually held it up against Juliana.
“I think this suits Miss Hawthorne better,” she suggested.
“It brings out the fairness of your skin and the blue of your eyes.”
Juliana narrowed those said eyes. “How much will it—”
“Is it not a little too… somber?” Her grandmother did not bother to hide her dismay, as if she thought that a modiste of a reputation as vaunted as Madame DuPont should know better. “I still think the yellow…”
“I think it is perfect!” Juliana exclaimed, before she could stop herself.
Madame DuPont’s smile grew even brighter. “Miss Hawthorne makes an excellent choice, oui?”
“If you insist,” Grandmama conceded with a longing glance at the yellow satin. “And you can have it ready in time for the Hamptons’ ball?”
“Why, of course, my lady,” the modiste all but purred. “But… to expedite in this craft, well…”
Grandmama rapped her cane impatiently. “Can you or can you not do it? Money is not a concern, of course.”
“Of course.” Madame DuPont smiled even more.
In the end, they left the atelier with Grandmama’s purse more than five hundred pounds lighter than when they came in. The French modiste was not running a business, but a robbery in broad daylight. Grandmama, however, would have none of it.
“Nonsense, Juliana. Your refusal to invest in yourself will get you nowhere,” she admonished her recalcitrant granddaughter.
“We made a mistake in your past few Seasons when we were too stingy with your wardrobe. Fortunately, your brother has seen sense and is taking action to rectify those very mistakes. Now, our next stop should be the milliner’s—”
“Juliana? Oh, Miss Juliana Hawthorne, is that really you?”
Juliana froze at the sound of that cheerful, almost breathless voice. Even Grandmama, who never relished being interrupted during one of her sermons, frowned at the most indecorous interruption.
A young woman, dressed in a pale blue concoction heavily laden with ruffles, barreled toward them, nearly knocking her own hat askew in her haste.
Juliana narrowed her eyes in slight recognition. “Miss… Catherine Pembroke?”
Miss Catherine Pembroke was the only daughter of the Viscount of Pembroke and one of the few ladies of the ton who treated Juliana and her family with a modicum of kindness.
She could vaguely recall seeing the young woman’s card on the faded silver tray a week or so ago, but like all other callers, she had to be turned away.
“The one and the same!” the young lady burst out in effervescent laughter.
“I tried calling on you when I heard you were back in London for the Season, but they turned me away and told me you were ill.” She leaned closer and peered up at Juliana.
“You have done convalescing, perhaps? You look like the very picture of health, if you ask me.”
Juliana felt her cheeks warm up at the mention of her self-imposed isolation. After all, she could not tell her friends that she suffered from an even worse malady—destitution.
“Ah… I have newly recovered,” she managed to say with a forced smile.
Miss Catherine Pembroke let out a great sigh, her hand pressed to her heart in the most dramatic way.
“Of course, you poor dear. Although Miss Bambrook said the oddest thing last week, claiming she saw you chasing a goose down Milton Street.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, why would you do that?”
Juliana shot her grandmama a wry glance. “Why, indeed?”
“Very well, it was very nice meeting you again!” Miss Catherine enthused. Then, she blinked. “Did you just come out of Madame DuPont’s?”
“Yes. Yes, we did.”
“Oh my!” Miss Catherine Pembroke grinned.
“Well, Miss Bambrook is going to be even more surprised when you arrive at the Hamptons’ ball in a few days.
She was so certain that your family…” she trailed off, her smile faltering by two notches.
“In any case, all rumors should now be resolved when you walk into the ballroom!”
Juliana gave her a feeble smile, and they soon parted ways. She watched as her friend walked into Madame DuPont’s shop with nary a care in the world.
Catherine was right—she should show up at the ball, if only to put the rumors to rest. Unlike her friend, however, she doubted that her appearance in an expensive new dress alone would sway public opinion.
Not when the ton absolutely delighted in the downfall of one of their own.