FIVE

"WHERE IS Amanda?" Juliana said Wednesday afternoon in the drawing room.

Rain pattered outside the windows. "You've asked that more times than Emily's pricked herself," Alexandra observed as she patiently knotted a thread.

Alexandra could afford to be patient, Juliana thought, stitching a tiny frock more frantically than patiently. Alexandra wasn't the one who'd promised to deliver twenty dozen articles of baby clothing in one short month. "Amanda said she'd be here."

"No, she didn't," Emily pointed out, rearranging Herman on her shoulders. Unfortunately, the clerk at Grafton House hadn't fainted. She'd only glared, which had done little toward convincing Emily to part with the dratted snake. "You invited her, but she never actually said she would come."

"Perhaps not in so many words. But she'll come." Amanda had to come. Juliana had devised a plan. An excellent plan, which she couldn't wait to explain—

"Ouch!" Emily exclaimed for the fifth time, sticking her pricked finger in her mouth. She really wasn't very good with a needle. "This blanket is turning out dreadful."

Juliana leaned over to inspect the girl's handiwork. "It isn't that bad." The hem was rather uneven, but it wasn't dreadful. Luckily babies couldn't criticize. "The blanket will keep an infant warm no matter what it looks like."

"But I want it to look good."

"With more practice, it will," Corinna said. "You need to practice to become good at anything." She stopped sewing long enough to gesture toward an easel set up by the large picture window. Even in the dim rainy-day light, the scene on the canvas—a man pushing a laughing lady on a swing by a reflective lake—conveyed movement, vibrancy, a sense of life. "My first painting didn't look like that."

Still patiently working her own needle into the little cap she was making, Alexandra smiled. "If I recall correctly, your first painting was a willow tree that looked more like a haystack."

"We're none of us expert seamstresses, Miss Emily." Aunt Frances squinted at her own handiwork through her spectacles. "We've only ever done samplers and embroidery. After a few more practice blankets—"

"This isn't practice," Juliana interrupted. "Every single item will be used." If she was lucky, today's efforts would produce five or six finished garments. And she needed two hundred and forty! Although it was a bit early to panic, she realized already, less than an hour into her first sewing party, that she was going to have to host many more of them. "Where is Amanda?"

Just then the knocker sounded in the foyer.

"That must be Amanda," she said, the frock falling to the floor as she jumped up and rushed from the room.

Though their butler, Adamson, was nearly as short as Juliana, he always managed to look dignified nonetheless. "Good afternoon, Lady Amanda," he intoned as he opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Adamson," Amanda replied formally.

"Where on earth have you been?" Juliana asked, very informally indeed.

"Playing chess with Aunt Mabel. I couldn't leave in the middle of such an exciting game."

"Exciting?" Juliana could think of little less exciting than chess. She preferred games that were light and relaxing, not so cerebral. Even sewing was more fun. "Come into the library."

Amanda peeked through the open door across the way. "Isn't everyone in the drawing room?"

"Yes. That's exactly the point." Juliana took her in the opposite direction, closing the door behind them and ushering her friend toward two leather wingback chairs. "We must keep your engagement a secret. I've a plan to break it."

Amanda sat and clasped her hands in her lap, suddenly looking nervous. She blew out a breath. "All right. What's the plan?"

Picturing her sisters with their ears to the door—after all, she'd often done so along with them—Juliana lowered her voice. "We shall arrange to get you compromised by—and therefore betrothed to—a man closer to your age than Lord Malmsey. Once the public has seen you and this other man in a compromising position, your father will be forced to agree."

"A compromising position?" Amanda's sudden laugh was shrill enough to make Juliana wince. "Gracious me, I've never even been kissed!"

"I haven't been kissed, either," Juliana said. "Not that men haven't tried, mind you." To the contrary, men tried all the time. But she always managed to duck them, because as much as she wanted to experience her first kiss, she wished for it to be with someone she cared for, at least a little.

"Well, no one's tried with me," Amanda said dourly. "And it will take more than a kiss to force my father's hand. There's not a chance a young, eligible man is going to compromise me. Not willingly, anyway."

"I didn't mean unwillingly." Juliana would never be party to such a devious plot, and furthermore, such a thing wouldn't be necessary. When she was finished with Amanda, men would be falling over themselves trying to compromise her. "Not to worry, my dear." She leaned closer to pat her hand. "Are you free tomorrow and the day after?"

"To be compromised?"

"To be fitted for a few ball gowns. You'll require a new wardrobe, among other things. We'll need to visit a seamstress as well as comb all the shops."

Amanda appeared both dubious and hopeful, if such an expression were possible. "My father did give me leave to assemble a trousseau."

"Excellent." There was little Juliana enjoyed more than transforming an ugly duckling into a lovely swan. "We have a lot of work to do before Lady Hammersmithe's ball on Saturday."

"I cannot attend Lady Hammersmithe's ball."

"Of course you can. I shall summon Madame Bellefleur to trim your hair—"

"My hair has never been cut." Amanda's hands went protectively to her head. "And I cannot attend—"

"Ouuuccch!" The howl was so piercing, it shot from the drawing room, across the foyer, and through the library's closed door.

"That's Emily!" Juliana exclaimed, bolting from her chair. Lifting her skirts, she dashed out the door. "Emily!" she shouted, running through the foyer and bursting into the drawing room. "Emily, what's happened?"

And there she stopped, a sudden sickness in her middle, a disturbing lightness in her head.

Emily was bleeding.

"It hurts," the girl wailed, bent over her hand. Tiny red spots dotted her pink skirts. Although the injury clearly wasn't serious—they were tiny spots, not a stream—Juliana knew she should hurry to help. To comfort. To make everything all better.

But she couldn't. Because the sight of those red spots seemed to make it hard to breathe.

Thank goodness everyone else was helping. Well, maybe not helping, precisely, but at least they weren't riveted in place. In the scant seconds Juliana stood there—because that's all the time it was, really—her sisters and Aunt Frances leapt up and surrounded Emily, making all sorts of clucking, compassionate noises.

Thankfully, that hid the sight of Emily's wound. But all that sympathy seemed to do little but make the girl sob harder. "M-my needle s-slipped. It-it didn't just poke me this time, it ripped—"

"Gracious me," Amanda said in a rather disgusted tone, pushing past Juliana and into the little cluster of females. "It's just a little blood. For goodness' sake. Someone take the snake." While Corinna moved to do so, Amanda reached for some linsey and tore off a strip, then drew Emily to her feet. "Let's clean it up and bandage it, shall we?" she said, leading her from the room.

Juliana walked to her chair, her knees feeling shaky. Which was ridiculous, and she knew it. As Corinna seemed to delight in pointing out to her, it was absurd for any female past puberty to find the sight of blood distressing. But her own monthlies never bothered her. A woman's periodic blood was natural; other bleeding wasn't.

She was grateful Corinna hadn't seemed to notice her abysmal lack of action, and neither had anyone else.

"Emily will be fine." Corinna held Herman at arm's length, looking almost as ridiculous as Juliana felt. "Why didn't you bring Amanda straight in here?"

"I wanted to talk to her regarding Lady Hammersmithe's ball on Saturday. Talk her into attending, I mean."

"Why wouldn't she?" Alexandra asked.

Juliana shrugged—casually, she hoped. "She's rather shy around eligible gentlemen. I've offered to help her with a new wardrobe, which I'm hoping will boost her confidence."

"That's kind of you," Alexandra said.

Corinna looked suspicious. Or maybe just wary of the snake. "Whyever did you feel the need to talk privately? We could have helped you convince her—"

"Here she is, all repaired," Amanda announced, walking back in with Emily.

Emily sported a neat little linsey bandage wrapped around her finger. When she reached for Herman, Corinna didn't hesitate to hand him over. Juliana's sister still looked wary, though. Or suspicious.

Drat.

"Shall we get back to work?" Juliana asked cheerfully.

Emily shook her head. "I'm not sewing anymore."

"You can start cutting the clouts," Juliana suggested, handing her a bundle of cotton fabric, a pair of scissors, and a simple pattern. She hoped that when the cut rectangles were folded and sewn, they would turn out the right size to cover a baby's bottom. Refusing to even think about doing that a hundred times, she gave Emily's half-finished blanket to Amanda. "Here. This is almost done."

It wasn't, of course, and Amanda proved to be no handier with a needle than the rest of them. Not only was Juliana going to have to host more sewing parties, she was also going to have to invite more women—with luck including some who had sewn more than samplers. "I hope you'll all help me recruit more ladies at Almack's tonight."

"I'm not attending," Alexandra said, a sparkle in her brandy-brown eyes. "Since Parliament isn't sitting, Tristan wants to stay home, just the two of us."

It wouldn't be just the two of them, of course—a marquess had a bevy of household help. But still, Juliana envied her sister's settled life. Since Almack's was foremost a matrimonial bazaar, Alexandra could afford to skip going and spend a relaxing evening at home instead. At the rate Juliana wasn't finding a husband, she wondered if she'd ever have that luxury for herself.

Corinna looked up from the petticoat she was stitching. Suspiciously. "Amanda, you'll be attending Almack's, won't you?"

"No," Amanda said. Juliana held her breath, half expecting her to blurt out that she had no need to attend given that she was already engaged. To her great relief, Amanda added instead, "Aunt Mabel isn't feeling up to chaperoning me these days."

"Is it the asthma again?" Aunt Frances sighed. "Poor Lady Mabel. I shall have to pay her a call."

"She'd appreciate that very much," Amanda said, hemming the blanket almost as crookedly as Emily.

If anything, Corinna looked even more suspicious. "But Juliana said you're going to Lady Hammersmithe's ball."

"As I tried to explain to her, I don't expect Aunt Mabel will be well enough by Saturday, either. The London air—"

"Aunt Frances can chaperone you along with us," Juliana said.

Amanda's needle slowed, not that she'd been plying it with masterful speed in the first place. "There's no point in going to the ball. No one will ask me to dance anyway."

"Oh, yes, they will." Alexandra smiled down at her handiwork. "Juliana will teach you the look."

Now Amanda's needle stopped. "What look?"

"Allow me to demonstrate." Juliana looked up from her little frock. "First you choose a man you wish to entice—"

"Entice?"

"Enticement is the objective of the look. Trust me, should you do it properly, men are guaranteed to fall at your feet."

"Are they?"

"Positively," Alexandra declared, making Juliana speculate on her sister's life with her new husband.

Jealously speculate.

Amanda looked from one sister to the other. "I'm listening."

"Excellent. First you choose a man and command his gaze." Juliana focused on Amanda, making her eyes blatantly sensuous.

The older girl swallowed hard. "And then?"

"Glance down, bowing your head a little to display your lashes against your cheeks. Then sweep your eyelids up, gaze at the man full on again, and slowly—very slowly—curve your lips in a seductive smile."

Amanda's forehead wrinkled. "Show me again."

"Watch closely." Taking her time, Juliana silently repeated the demonstration.

Corinna snickered, but Amanda and Emily both sighed. "Can I learn, too?" Emily asked.

"It's never too early to begin practicing. Amanda, give it a try."

Amanda stared hard at Juliana, closed her eyes, popped them open, and stretched her mouth into a wide grin.

It was Juliana's turn to sigh. She had her work cut out for her.