WAFERS
Rub Butter into Flour with some small amount of Salt. To this put Cream and Honey and roll out until very thin. Cut into small rounds and put them in your oven and eat them hot or cold.
A very simple treat, these have a calming effect. My grandmother used to serve them to my grandfather to make him reasonable.
—Anne, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1764
EVEN WITH A flurry of activity, Juliana's afternoon had passed excruciatingly slowly. Despite the heroic efforts of her five guests, her sewing party had added only eight items to her stockpile, well short of the twenty-five she'd been hoping for. But she hadn't been able to prolong the gathering past her usual four o'clock stopping time, knowing the men would be arriving at quarter past six.
She'd shooed everyone out of the house and hurried to the kitchen to make the wafers. When the sweets came out of the oven, she donned her most modest dress—a white one—and applied just enough cosmetics to look fresh and innocent. Then she paced around the drawing room until Corinna grew irritated enough to set down her paintbrush and summon her maid to accompany her for a walk.
She hadn't meant to drive her sister away from the house. But all the same, she couldn't help but be a little pleased that she'd be able to explain her plan to James and the duke without enduring Corinna's usual caustic asides.
James arrived first. She hurried him into the drawing room, giving him the details as they went.
"Then Lady Amanda can marry the duke," she concluded, "which will leave you free to—" She clamped her lips shut. While James had proclaimed his love, he hadn't made an offer of marriage. "Why on earth would Lady Amanda's father refuse?" she added instead.
"I don't know." Sounding hopeful but maybe also a bit hesitant, he glanced toward the open door, then shrugged and drew her into his arms. "But I pray he won't, because Lady Amanda isn't the woman I wish to wed."
She laid her head against his chest, savoring his warmth, hoping she was the woman he wished to wed instead. Wishing he could be hers forever.
He would be hers forever. "Lord Wolverston won't refuse," she said firmly. "He'd be an idiot to reject a duke as a son-in-law."
"My confident Juliana." James tilted her chin up, and she found herself captured in his intense chocolate gaze. Something fluttered in her middle as he lowered his lips to meet hers.
He brushed her mouth with aching tenderness, then settled there, deepening the kiss. His hands skimmed down her sides and found hers, lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight. There was something different about their kisses now that they'd admitted their love, something possessive, something more meaningful.
Something she knew she'd never find with any other man.
"Ahem." They broke apart to find the duke standing in the doorway. "Your note said you have a plan?"
Though she blushed wildly, she kept one of James's hands in hers. "Yes," she said and quickly explained, finishing with "Why on earth would Lady Amanda's father refuse?"
"He shouldn't," the duke said stiffly, his disapproving gaze on their clasped hands. "He won't reject me as a son-in-law. He'd have to be dumber than a box of hair to do that."
JULIANA AND Castleton were both sure Lord Wolverston wasn't stupid enough to reject a duke. And James had silently agreed with them—until they arrived in the man's dining room and he greeted them with all the warmth of an icicle.
"I don't recall issuing dinner invitations."
Lady Amanda set down her fork. "They're not here for dinner, Father."
"Excellent. Then I'm certain they'll have the good manners to leave."
"No, they won't." In all the weeks James had spent in Lady Amanda's company, he'd never seen her look so resolute. "The Duke of Castleton has something to ask you, Father."
"I don't choose to listen." Lord Wolverston leisurely drained his wineglass before setting it down. "Hastings, see these people to the door," he said and began to rise.
"No!" Amanda jumped from her chair and pushed him back down. "You will sit here and listen."
He gazed at his suddenly assertive daughter as though she'd grown an extra head. "Since when—"
"Lord Wolverston," Juliana interrupted, holding forth her basket. "If you're finished with your dinner, would you care for a sweet? I baked wafers this afternoon."
He stared at her as though she had three heads. "Ladies don't stoop to the level of kitchen maids."
An awkward silence filled the room. Even stuffy Castleton seemed discomfited by the man's attitude. But he stepped forward. "My lord," he said formally, "I assure you that my wife—my duchess—will never step foot in a kitchen. I would like to request the honor of your daughter's hand in marriage."
"My daughter is marrying Lord Stafford," Wolverston replied stiffly. "This Saturday." He rose again. "Now I expect you all to leave before I have to see that you're thrown out."
"Father!" Tears sprang to Lady Amanda's blue-gray eyes. "The Duke of Castleton is proposing marriage. A duke, Father! Surely you cannot refuse him!"
"I can, and I will." He looked to Castleton. "When next I see you at White's—this evening or another time—we shall pretend this interview never occurred," he said and turned to leave.
"No, we shall not." Castleton strode around the table and stood blocking the man's way to the door. "I wish to wed your daughter, and she wishes to wed me. If you've a valid reason to object, I want to hear it."
Wolverston hesitated a moment while his expression shifted to something resembling stone. "You don't want to hear it," he finally said mildly.
"I demand to hear it," the duke insisted through gritted teeth.
James had to give Castleton credit. In contrast to Wolverston's expressionless expression, the ass had never looked less reserved in his life. In fact, he looked formidable—and rather like he was preparing to strangle the older man.
Until he heard the next words from Wolverston's mouth.
"Very well, then." Calm, emotionless words. "I once had a liaison with your mother. Thirty-three years ago, to be precise. I fear you may be my son."
Juliana's basket dropped from her hand to the floor while the man pushed past Castleton as though the duke were about as substantial as a piece of paper.
"I expect you'll find that to be a valid reason for me to object to your marrying my daughter," Wolverston added as he went out the door.
For the next few moments, silence reigned.
"He didn't eat my wafers," Juliana finally whispered. "They were supposed to make him reasonable."
"They wouldn't have made a difference." James wrapped an arm around her shoulders—an arm that felt heavy as lead.
He glanced from her stunned face to the others. Castleton no longer looked formidable; instead, he looked as though he might crumple like that piece of paper. Lady Amanda had crumpled. In the shocked silence that had followed her father's confession, she'd folded back onto her chair and lowered her head to her lap.
"Gracious me," she breathed now, the words muffled in her skirts. "I cannot marry my brother."
"He said I might be his son," Castleton pointed out. But his voice sounded defeated.
"You and Amanda's father are both blond and blue-eyed," Juliana observed wanly.
There was no need for her to point out that Lady Amanda had blue-gray eyes and blond hair as well. Or that everyone had always known his natural father hadn't been the Duke of Castleton. The expression on his face made it clear he was all too aware of those facts.
He shifted uneasily. "Hair and eye color are hardly proof of paternity," he mumbled, sounding less sure of himself by the moment.
But it was more than coloring. Now that the possibility had been raised, James realized Castleton looked much more like Wolverston than the man's daughter did. It was something in the line of the jaw, something in the tilt of the head, something in the length of the nose. Something about the stiff carriage and the lack of stature.
Something twisted in James's gut.
"The thought of you two marrying now…" Swallowing hard, Juliana put a hand to her middle. "It makes me feel slightly ill."
"It makes me feel very ill," Lady Amanda muttered into her lap. She slowly lifted her head, looking very ill indeed. Avoiding Castleton's eyes, she gazed unfocused at James. "We shall have to marry—"
"There's still Lord Malmsey," Juliana cut in.
She was grasping at straws, and broken ones at that. His gut now sinking as well as twisted, James moved to face her and took both her hands. "Lady Amanda can no longer wed Lord Malmsey, my love. She's been publicly disgraced. Under the circumstances, Lord Malmsey is perfectly within his rights to terminate the engagement, and furthermore, he wishes to wed Lady Frances. You wouldn't want to see him ripped from your aunt's side, would you?"
She shook her head, tears glazing her suddenly green eyes. "No," she whispered.
He gathered her close, knowing it would be for the last time. Much as he hated tears, he wanted to cry with her. He would cry with her if he could.
But he felt dead inside. Sinking and twisted and dead.
There was no way out. He had to marry Lady Amanda.
He had to marry Lady Amanda.
He had to marry Lady Amanda.
No matter how many times he repeated the fact to himself, it seemed impossible to believe.
Impossible to accept.
But he had to.
Slowly he released Juliana, thinking it was the hardest thing he'd ever done…
…but not as hard as it would be to say "I will" to someone else.
"I'm going home," he said. "I'll be back Saturday at noon."