Chapter 6
Balls were her own personal hell, and the Hamptons’ fête was no different. If anything, the crush of bodies on that particular Thursday night had rendered Juliana close to fainting and in dire need of fresh air.
“Look, darling, there is Lord Stanley, heir to the Marquess of Stafford,” Grandmama spoke in a hushed, but excited whisper, as if she had not forced Juliana to commit her copy of Debrett’s Peerage to heart.
“I have it on good authority that a distant uncle has left him a sizable inheritance and that he is looking for a wife!”
By “good authority”, her grandmama probably meant the last few friends who had not outwardly shunned them.
“Even if that was the case, I doubt he would be looking this way for his Marchioness,” Juliana muttered under her breath, sneaking a quick glance at the supposedly outstanding bachelor that was Lord Stanley.
With his dark brown hair and friendly grin, he possessed enough looks, she supposed, to garner the attention of many of the unmarried misses in this ballroom. If that was not enough, the news of his inheritance and his status as the only heir to an ailing Marquess should more than suffice.
But even as his charming smile caused a wave of hushed giggles and fluttering fans, Juliana found him oddly… lacking.
He was barely two hands taller than she was, and there was nothing in his smile that did funny things to her insides—unlike that of a certain smug grin that had her subconsciously rubbing her thighs at the mere memory of it.
Stop it, Juliana, she admonished herself with a slight pat on her heated cheeks. She had no business thinking about him in a crowded ballroom. She had no business thinking about him at all.
The man was trouble of the highest order, and she would do well to avoid him at all costs.
“Lady Hawthorne, it is a pleasure to see you here tonight.”
Her wayward thoughts were disrupted by a rare, friendly voice, causing Juliana to blink at the unexpected interference. A young gentleman with light brown hair and green eyes smiled politely at her grandmama.
“Lord Manderley!” Her grandmother’s fan began to flutter wildly, even as she managed to elbow Juliana in a not-so-discreet manner. “I do believe that I have yet to introduce you to my granddaughter, Miss Juliana Hawthorne!”
Juliana found herself so indecorously shoved onto the poor gentleman that she felt twice the embarrassment on behalf of her overeager grandmother.
“Forgive me, my lord,” she murmured, casting her eyes to the hem of her skirts.
“No offense taken, Miss Hawthorne,” he smiled at her. “Although if you insist on making amends, then you must allow me to so boorishly force you to the dance floor.”
“D-dance?” she stammered like the complete and utter ninny that she was.
He smiled. “I believe that it is what gentlemen and young ladies occupy themselves with at events such as these.”
Juliana felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”
When he offered Juliana his arm, Grandmama looked as if she would die from happiness. When she gingerly took it, her grandmama appeared to have been ushered to the pearly gates by the archangels themselves.
With Grandmama so ecstatic, how could she refuse? Besides, it had been so long since she allowed herself to enjoy the company of people other than Grandmama, Kit, and their disappearing domestics.
“You must forgive me for my dancing skills, which leave much to be desired, my lord,” she managed with a hesitant smile.
Lord Manderley smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Then you need not fear on that account, Miss Hawthorne, for my own mother still grieves my lack of coordination and grace on the dance floor.”
Juliana finally allowed herself to smile wider. “I find that rather hard to believe, my lord.”
“Then I hope I do not prove to be a disgrace before you.”
Juliana supposed there had never been an odder variation of the quadrille, although they muddled along just fine without drawing the ire of the other couples on the dance floor.
“We survived that one,” the young lord shook his head with a rueful smile. “I hope your opinion of me has not sunk so abysmally that you will not allow me to fetch you some refreshments.”
She looked up at him gratefully. “A glass of lemonade will be much appreciated, thank you.”
Lord Manderley clicked his heels and, with a dramatic bow, excused himself to fetch the lemonade. Left on her own, Juliana managed a soft sigh as she leaned against a pillar, rotating her foot underneath her skirts to relieve the tension that had been building in her ankle throughout the dance.
Lord Manderley was so polite and so pleasant that she felt a keen sense of remorse for the stab of disappointment in her gut when she realized that she found his eyes the wrong shade of green.
Or that his shoulders were not as broad, his smile not as arrogant a smirk, his hands not as warm and as wicked as the ones that held her in their thrall in that house of sin.
Perhaps she was going mad, after all, and these feral feelings were simply a symptom of the disease. That had to be the only reason as to why she found herself in such a state over a man she had met only twice. She was not even sure she liked him enough to want him!
“Juliana? Oh, Juliana, it truly is you!”
She turned to find Catherine rushing toward her, breathless, her eyes alight. She grasped Juliana’s hands with such fervor, and when she dragged her outside, beyond the open doors, Juliana feared her friend might have rattled her brains against her skull.
“Oh, I am so glad to see you! The ballroom was ever so stifling, I feared I was going to faint and embarrass myself,” Catherine gushed. She looked around and then leaned in to whisper, “It was a bit of a struggle to get away from Aunt Caroline, but here I am now.”
Juliana frowned. “Why would you want to get away from—”
“Hush, my dear!” her friend glanced around frantically. “Aunt Caroline… She does not exactly approve of Lord Thompson, and he and I…”
Juliana bit her lip. “I must admit that I did not exactly expect you to… Get along with Lord Thompson.”
“I admit that I have judged the gentleman unfairly,” Catherine confided, snapping open her fan. “Most unfairly indeed. And now, I require your assistance in this matter.”
“You want me…” Juliana balked when she realized what was being asked of her. “But Catherine, you are tempting scandal and ruination!”
Her Aunt Caroline was only right to disapprove of this match, for what sort of well-meaning gentleman would invite a well-bred young lady for a rendezvous? Her opinion of Lord Thompson was sinking faster by the moment.
“No one will have to know!” Catherine insisted. “Please, Juliana, it is only for a short while in the dark part of the gardens. I shall not tarry long enough to invite undue attention.”
Juliana knew she should not have followed Catherine outside. She should have dragged her back to the ballroom and deposited her into her Aunt Caroline’s care, no matter how much her friend pleaded with her.
But Catherine was her only friend in a sea of strangers, and she feared that if she did not aid her in this matter, then she would seek the assistance of someone less trustworthy.
“Lord Thompson had better be appreciative of the lengths you go for him,” she grumbled finally.
“Oh, Juliana, you are the absolute best!” Catherine hugged her happily. “I shall not be gone long, I promise. I will be back before you know it.”
“You had better,” she warned her friend with a final squeeze of her gloved hand. “Now, go before anyone notices your absence!”
Catherine did not need to be told again.
She slipped into the shadows with the ease of a fish leaping back into a lake, and Juliana suspected this might not be the first time she and Lord Thompson had met in such a clandestine manner.
When next she saw the gentleman in question, she was most certainly going to take him to task on her friend’s behalf!
She sighed, looking up at the night sky as a cool breeze brushed past her heated cheek. Outside, it felt as if she had left the world and all its troubles behind. The crush of bodies, the din of polite laughter and not-so-polite stares—she had almost forgotten how overwhelming everything could be.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the wayward Miss Hawthorne,” a familiar, soft baritone chuckled from behind her. “Pray tell, what mischief are you up to out here on your own?”
It was him. She would know that voice anywhere.
Every instinct within her screamed at her to run.
Instead, with her heart pounding, she whirled around to find arms crossed over a chest broad enough to block out the rest of the building behind him.
That same smug smile, which had haunted her every waking moment, now tilted the corner of his lips, his eyes blazing like emeralds in the flickering torchlight.
His smile turned absolutely feral. “We really should stop meeting this way, should we not?”
She lifted her chin and returned his smile with a frosty one of her own.
This time, she was not going to run. This time, she was going to face him, and maybe, just maybe, she would see him for what he truly was and be rid of the maddening spell he had cast on her.
Or so she hoped.