THE NEXT DAY, Juliana paced around the drawing room while she waited for her guests to arrive for her one o'clock sewing party.
"I cannot concentrate." Seated at her easel, Corinna dabbed a bit of gray on the underside of a cloud. "I know you're going to make me sew all afternoon, so for now, will you please sit down?"
Juliana sat and stabbed her needle in and out of a little white nightshirt. For about a minute. Then she rose and began moving again, the nightshirt dangling from her clenched fingers. "There must be some way to fix this. It's disastrous for everyone involved."
"Aunt Frances doesn't think it's a disaster," Corinna pointed out.
That much was true. Although Frances had been shocked to learn Lord Malmsey was engaged, he'd managed to talk his way back into her good graces before Juliana even had a chance to help. In fact, last evening she'd returned to the tent in Lady Hartley's garden to find him proposing on bended knee—a proposal Aunt Frances had joyfully accepted.
But the fact that the two of them were thrilled hardly mitigated the disaster that had come of all her plotting.
She and James were devastated. The duke was devastated. No doubt Amanda was devastated, too, although Juliana hadn't seen her since last night. Lord Wolverston had taken his daughter straight home—proclaiming loudly, according to several eyewitnesses, that she wouldn't be seen again in public before she was a wife. Juliana had received an apologetic note from Amanda this morning, explaining that she wouldn't be able to attend any more of her sewing parties and her Aunt Mabel wouldn't be there, either.
Apparently, Lord Wolverston, having been less than impressed with his sister's chaperoning proficiency—or rather, her lack thereof—had given her such a lecture that she'd gone straight to bed with the asthma and expected to remain there for the week.
Out in the foyer, the knocker banged on the door. A few moments later, Adamson came into the drawing room with two letters for Juliana.
"Thank you," she said, breaking the seal on the first one and scanning the short message. "Drat!"
"What is it?" Corinna asked.
"Rachael cannot come today. She has a cold." She opened the second letter, her eyes widening as she read the words. "Double drat!"
"What now?"
"James's aunts are ill, too. And his mother. How in heaven's name am I going to make twenty-five items of baby clothes today with only you and Alexandra, Claire and Elizabeth, and Aunt Frances?"
Working feverishly in every free moment, Juliana had managed to complete seven garments on her own between her last sewing party and today, but she still needed to collect seventy-six pieces of baby clothes during just three more parties. That was more than twenty-five per party, and today she would have six fewer women contributing.
"In the scheme of things," Corinna said, "I should think those baby clothes are the least of your troubles."
"You're right." Ordering herself to stay composed and keep things in perspective, Juliana plopped down on the sofa and resumed sewing. Her gaze went to the bedraggled red roses sitting in a vase on the mantel. They looked nearly as droopy as she felt. "James's forced betrothal to Amanda is much more distressing."
"Perhaps Lord Wolverston has calmed down by now," Corinna suggested. "Maybe if Amanda explains that it was all a misunderstanding, he'll reconsider."
"I don't think so. For all his bluster, it was clear he was well satisfied to see her catch an earl in place of a lowly baron." Juliana's needle dropped from her fingers. "That's it!"
"What's it?" Corinna tilted her head, perusing her work in progress.
"If the Duke of Castleton offers to marry Amanda instead of James—"
"Her father would refuse, wouldn't he?" She dabbed at the cloud some more. "Isn't that why you plotted her compromise in the first place?"
"But everything's different now. Lord Wolverston wouldn't be breaking his word or breaching a contract. At this point, he only wants to see his ruined daughter wed and off his hands, and after all, if an earl is better than a baron, surely a duke is better still." It was so simple, Juliana wanted to kick herself for not thinking of it on the spot. All this worry could have been avoided. "Why on earth would he refuse?"
Corinna shrugged and dipped her brush. "Your logic seems sound, but Amanda thinks her father is unreasonable."
"I'll bake some wafers, then, just in case." According to the recipe in the family cookbook, wafers were reputed to have a calming effect and help make one reasonable. "But I cannot imagine why he would refuse."
"Well, then, I'm certain he won't. You always know best, after all."
Since Juliana obviously didn't always know best—as proven by last night's disaster—she found her sister's sarcasm somewhat annoying. But she was sure Lord Wolverston wouldn't refuse. The man would have to be an idiot to reject a duke as a son-in-law.
Five minutes later, Juliana was on Amanda's doorstep, explaining her new plan. "Why on earth would your father refuse?" she concluded.
"I cannot imagine." Amanda's eyes had been dull with despair, but now they shone with hope. "I wish he were home so we could ask him right now."
"The duke must be with us, in any case. Your father is a stickler, after all, so the duke will need to formally request your hand. And Lord Stafford should be in attendance as well, to confirm he agrees with the proposed solution. When will Lord Wolverston be home?"
"I'm not privy to his schedule. But I heard him instruct the cook to prepare roasted duck for his dinner, and he always insists on dining at precisely six o'clock."
"Perfect. I'll send a footman with notes to summon Lord Stafford and the duke, and we'll all be here at half past six."
"He won't take callers in the middle of dinner."
"Do you know for certain he'll stay home afterwards?"
Amanda shook her head.
"Then inform your butler beforehand that we're expected. That way he won't go to your father to ask his permission." Juliana started down the steps, then turned. "Oh, bother. I'm sure Lord Stafford is at the Institute, but I have no idea where to send a note that will reach the duke."
"He'll be at his club," Amanda said, "playing cards."
"Which club?"
"White's, of course."
"Of course," Juliana echoed. She wasn't surprised to learn the duke belonged to a Tory establishment—he was the embodiment of the word conservative. What was surprising, however, was that Amanda knew where to find the man, while she didn't.
Despite expecting to marry him, it seemed she'd never really known him at all.
"Are you sure you're not upset that David loves me?" Amanda asked suddenly and rather warily. "I know you wanted to be the duchess."
While she wasn't sure the duke actually loved Amanda, Juliana shrugged. "No, I'm not upset. I believe the two of you belong together." Truer words were never spoken. "Um…if I told you I'm the woman Lord Stafford loves, would you be upset about that?"
"Gracious me," Amanda said, "you can have him. The man's chilly as a Gunter's ice."