Chapter 3
Music from the string quartet drifted in the air, filling the rare moments of silence with atmospheric delights. The masked ball had only just begun, and Julian had already regretted his decision to chaperone his mother and sister.
Lords and Ladies of the ton milled about, chatting behind their fans or whispering to people that they knew. The masked faces made it difficult for anyone to recognize others beyond their immediate circle, but Julian found himself enjoying the anonymity the covering provided.
“Did you enjoy your first session of Parliament?” Benedict asked from beside him, drawing his attention back to their conversation. His black mask matched the hue of his mourning coat and tails.
Reaching up, Julian secured his own blue mask in place, feeling more like an intruder with every moment that passed.
His mother had insisted on him getting into the spirit of things.
Which meant a brand new hairstyle that hid his curls, a navy coat accompanied by his war medals, and even new boots and breeches he had insisted he did not need.
“Truth be told, I felt rather like a fish out of water. People talk about how stiff and proper sitting in the House of Lords can be, but the reality is far more boring than that.”
Lifting the glass of brandy to his lips, Benedict took a sip before chuckling. “I do not envy your position. I would have been bored from the first hand I was forced to shake.”
Julian tugged at his white cravat, hoping to afford himself some room to breathe. “Trust me, it is not a position I would wish on anyone, but alas, there is not much I can do to change the matter,” he grumbled. “I am doomed to a life of boredom while old men with titles make important decisions.”
“So, I take that you have resigned yourself to being Lord Barnard?” Benedict asked with one eyebrow raised in question.
Shifting his gaze across the crowded ballroom to where his mother and sister were standing in their deep purple and emerald costumes, Julian smiled.
Or at least, the corner of his mouth hooked into a slight gesture that could have been mistaken for a smile.
“I have. I may as well make the best of the opportunity that has been presented to me.”
Even if it is not for me.
Benedict followed his gaze, watching as a group of suitors approached Juliette with offers to fill in her dance card.
His sister blushed deeply, curtsying when one of the men seemed to have won her favor. It would not be long before someone made him an offer for her hand. Julian’s jaw stiffened as he watched the young man lead his sister into the middle of the dancefloor.
It was all well and good that suitors were taking notice of her, but what would he do when it came time for one of them to come calling? He would have to come up with an excuse as to why it was not at Redding Hall.
“It seems as if your sister will not have any space left on her dance card this evening,” Benedict remarked as the violins switched from a soft melody to the first waltz of the evening.
“No, it does not seem as if she will have a shortage of suitors,” Julian grumbled in response, feeling his chest clench with both pride and fear.
Seeing Juliette manage her new role in society brought home the fact that she was a woman now. Their father had died when Juliette was still very young. Julian had always been her protector, but it seemed almost unfair to him that he had to let her go.
“Have you given any thought to my suggestion of marriage?” Benedict asked when Julian’s eyes lingered on his sister dancing, and his mother watching with tearful hope.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” Julian said while keeping his gaze on his family with his hands behind his back.
“I see no other way out of the mess. I will need to make an advantageous match with a lady of considerable means. Though I do detest the idea, a marriage of convenience is the only plausible answer.” He shifted his focus away from the dancing and back to his friend.
Benedict’s eyes widened with surprise. “Well, I never thought I would see the day, but it seems as if you can be swayed.” He lifted his almost empty glass in salute and toasted before downing the rest of the amber liquid.
Julian was about to reply when a shorter, squatter gentleman with a black mask, round belly, and graying hair approached them. He spoke in a croaky, cheerful voice as he lowered his tone. “Would either of you gentlemen be interested in a game of cards?”
He narrowed his eyes conspiratorially before looking around. “I am afraid that Lady Tremaine would not approve, so we would have to be discreet, but I do not think I could suffer all of these dances and maintain my sanity.”
Stifling a chuckle, Benedict whispered back. “I must say that I agree, Lord Tremaine…”
The corners of the older gentleman’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Yes, well, I guess it is difficult for a man to hide his identity with a stature like mine. I blame Lady Tremaine’s impeccable taste in hiring cooks.’ He patted his round belly that bulged over his breeches.
Julian stood admiring the exchange for a moment before bowing. “I think a game of cards would be a perfect distraction, my lord.”
Lord Tremaine nodded and glanced over his shoulder once again before beckoning for them to follow.
None of the other guests seemed to be paying them much attention as they politely pushed their way through the sea of masked faces.
They had just made it to the end of the lavishly decorated hall and turned into a passage when a lady wearing a bright green dress and matching mask stepped in their path.
“My dear!” Lord Tremaine exclaimed, taking a step back. “We were just…”
“You were just about to lure these eligible young men into the parlor for a game of cards! Were you not, Lord Tremaine?” she asked in a thin voice that became shrill as she raised it.
“I would never…” Lord Tremaine began again but quickly shut his mouth when his wife glared at him.
Julian and Benedict were about to turn and leave when they were suddenly addressed.
“And you, my lords, that is, if you are both lords. The heavens know that these masks do not make matters easy. The two of you should be ashamed for allowing yourselves to be talked into playing cards instead of dancing. Now, I will ask both of you to please go and find partners for the next dance. The ballroom is packed with eligible young ladies just waiting to be asked.” She placed her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side
The men remained rooted to the spot, uncertain of how to react after being told off like they were children.
“Well?” She began to tap her foot. “Will the three of you be complying, or will I have to wait here blocking your path all evening?” She pursed her lips before folding her arms over her chest.
“Our apologies, Lady Tremaine. We shall go at once,” Julian apologized along with Benedict and turned.
They had barely made it out of the hallway when the sound of Lady Tremaine scolding her husband drifted to their ears.
“I swear, Harold, I should box your ears. It certainly seems as if your mother and governess never did!”
Benedict suppressed his laughter while Julian frowned. “Is she allowed to talk to us in that manner?” he asked as his frown deepened.
‘It does not matter; we had better listen before our own ears get boxed!” Benedict hissed under his breath amidst a deep chuckle.
It did not take them too long to make their way back into the throng of guests.
Benedict pointed out two lovely young women, one in a green floral print dress, and the other in silver that seemed to encompass her body from head to toe.
Benedict bowed to the first and asked her to dance, while Julian was left with the latter.
“Would you care to dance, my lady?” Benedict bowed respectfully with one arm crossed over his chest.
The beautiful young woman seemed to hesitate at first, but her perfect lips parted after a moment as she curtsied.
Her blonde hair had been smoothed back with a tight bun, while the silver mask covered most of her face.
Yet her perfect lips and stunning blue eyes made Julian’s heart slam against his ribs.
It had been a long time since any woman had made him react so viscerally, but he quickly reminded himself that beauty was only skin deep, and he needed to marry for money. It would not matter what his potential wife looked like, as long as she understood the arrangement.
Placing her silver-gloved hand in his, the elegant young woman allowed herself to be led into the middle of the dance floor. Her lips parted again with a silent gasp when he placed one hand on her waist.
Benedict looked into her eyes, feeling a strange kind of stirring in the pit of his stomach.
She is gorgeous.
He could not help but stare at her perfect lips that formed a cupid’s bow at the top. He had never seen such kissable lips in his life, and even he had to admit that he would have been envious of any other man dancing with such a fine young lady.
The next song began to play, filling the air with a romantic melody as the couples began to sway.
His fingers tightened over hers ever so slightly as he pulled her closer.
Notes of amber and roses mingled with lilacs as he caught the scent of her light perfume. It pulled him in like a soft breeze drifting through the gardens on a summer’s eve.
His pulse raced wildly when she stared back into his eyes, moving gracefully as if she knew his every move. “Are you enjoying the evening, Miss…” He allowed his words to taper off as the question hung in the air.
Why do I feel like this?
Julian became acutely aware of every beat of his heart as he searched her face. The little of her skin that he could see was porcelain smooth with a lovely peachy cream color that reminded him of summer.
The lilt in her sweet voice became instantly apparent as she spoke. “Miss Prescott, and I am enjoying the evening, thank you, my lord.”
“You are the American that everyone is talking about,” Julian answered without thinking.
Her body instantly grew stiff in his arms. “That is correct, my lord. My mother and I hail from America; we are visiting my aunt.”
“My apologies, Miss Prescott, I did not mean to offend you. I simply meant that I have heard a great deal of your arrival.” Julian offered her a stiff smile, feeling the shit in the atmosphere between them.
“I am certain that you have, my lord.” Her voice held an unmistakably sharp note.
“And will you be staying in London for the entirety of the season, or will you be returning to America?”
Her brilliant blue eyes flashed with something unreadable as she tilted her chin defiantly. “I am surprised that you do not already know the answer, my lord. You and the rest of the ton seem to be well apprised of my life in all other aspects.”
Julian’s brow creased into a frown as he ran his tongue over his lower lip before drawing it into his mouth.
“But no, I will not be returning to New York anytime soon. Do you have any plans to travel?” She narrowed her eyes while pursing her perfect lips.
Bristling slightly at the tone in her voice, Julian clenched his jaw.
“No, I do not have plans to travel in the near future. I am afraid that my situation demands a great deal of my time here in London. But should I wish to travel one day, I am certain that New York would be a wonderful place to see.”
“I cannot say that I recommend a visit to New York, my lord. There are far too many storms. You may prefer to stay in England.” The smile that curled her lips was anything but friendly.
“I see,” he grumbled, confused by her dismissal. Had she not wanted to dance with him?
His reply only seemed to amuse her as her smile grew even more fierce along with the spark in her gaze.
“Do you, my lord? I must say that I am impressed if that is the case. Most people of the ton do not seem to understand my meaning at all. I can hardly say that I have felt welcome in such a polite society…” She allowed the last two words to linger on her lips and drive her point home.
Bristling again, Julian allowed his frown to deepen. “Miss Prescott, if I have offended you in some way…” He wondered if pointing out that she had been the topic of discussion among the ton had annoyed or offended her.
Unmistakable anger flashed across her face as her lips parted with a reply.
Applause filled the air as the song came to an end. Julian had not even realized how long they had been dancing for until the music stopped. The atmosphere between them had closed in on them like a shield that had drowned out the rest of the noise.
He was about to apologize again for causing offense when she suddenly spoke.
“Thank you for the dance, my lord, I shall be taking my leave now,” she stepped away and lowered her hand from his shoulder.
A loud rip filled the air, causing a few of the couples closest to them to turn.
Her lips parted with indignation this time as she looked down at her wrist. The seam of her silver glove had hooked on one of his medals and ripped the fabric all the way to her wrist, exposing the soft milky skin.
Averting his gaze, Julian cleared his throat. “My apologies, Miss Prescott. I will…”
She snapped in a sharp voice, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You have done quite enough this evening, my lord. Thank you for the dance, but I shall be taking my leave now.” She turned on her heels and marched away from him, leaving Julian stranded and alone in the middle of the floor.
So rude…
He glared at her retreating figure for a moment before realizing that all eyes were on him.
The nearby lords and ladies threw curious glances in his direction until he forced a smile, bowed, and made his way off the floor.
He was seething with anger by the time he reached the table of refreshments and poured himself a glass of punch.
The tangy fruit-flavored drink did little to ease his irritation as she thought of the dance.
He had not wanted to believe it, but Eleanor had been right.
Americans were rude, stubborn, and quite crass.
But so beautiful.
He felt the same strange stirring beneath his ribs as he recalled the deep blue of her eyes and the perfect shape of her lips.