SHREWSBURY CAKES
Beat half a pound of Butter to a fine cream, and put in the same weight of Flour, one Egg, a measure of grated loaf Sugar, and small spoons of Nutmeg and Cinnamon. Mix them into a paste, roll them thin, and cut them with a small glass or little tins, prick them, lay them on sheets of tin, and bake them in a slow oven. Serve spread with raspberry Jam if you wish.
Should you wish to convince someone of something, these cakes will do the trick.
—Helena, Countess of Greystone, 1784
DESPITE HAVING persuaded her cousins to attend her party, Juliana had no more ladies sewing than last week. Corinna, while present today in the drawing room, was "involved" with her latest painting and refused to pick up a needle. Aunt Frances was at Amanda's house, visiting with Lady Mabel. And Sunday was the one day of the week Emily's father made sure to spend time with her.
Luckily, Rachael's mother had been artistic and had taught her girls to sew. Since Rachael, Claire, and Elizabeth were sewing much faster—not to mention better—than last week's crew, Juliana was able to avoid panicking. And since Aunt Frances and Emily were missing, she took advantage of their absence to explain Amanda's situation to her cousins.
After hearing of Amanda's woes, Rachael sighed. But then her smile made Juliana hopeful she was becoming a little cheerier. "Well, you certainly were last night's Incomparable, Lady Amanda." Her needle flew in and out of the miniature coat she was making. "Were you enthralled by any particular gentleman?"
"Lord Stafford," Juliana answered for Amanda. "He's absolutely perfect."
"I'm not certain." Seated on the drawing room sofa between Juliana and Alexandra, Amanda stitched as slowly and clumsily as ever. Juliana doubted she'd ever progress beyond blankets. Perhaps this blanket. "Lord Stafford is handsome," Amanda admitted.
"He's gorgeous," Corinna corrected from where she was painting by the picture window.
"Quite," Juliana agreed, reaching toward the platter of Shrewsbury cakes. She might not personally prefer James's dark looks, she thought as she spread raspberry jam on one of the sweets, but she couldn't argue with her sister's assessment.
"But I'm not struck by love," Amanda said, her stitches getting shakier.
Fearing her friend might stab herself and bleed, Juliana pulled the needle from her hand and put the cake into it instead. "It might take a while," she said gently.
"Not everyone marries for love," Claire pointed out, her unusual amethyst gaze fastened on her expert handiwork.
Elizabeth reached for a spool of white thread. "Your parents didn't marry for love, did they, Juliana?"
"No," Juliana said. "And that was a big mistake."
"Not this again." Corinna frowned at her painting. "Our family was perfectly happy."
"Not Mama. She loved Father desperately, and he never returned her feelings." As Juliana had grown older and more aware, she'd found her mother's unrequited love painful to watch. "Although he gave her children, he never found any other use for her. Never spent time with her, never truly made her part of his life."
She wouldn't let that happen to her. Until she found a man she loved—a man she knew loved her madly in return—she was determined to remain unwed.
"Mama's life wasn't that tragic," Corinna argued. "Amanda cannot afford to wait to fall deeply in love."
Claire nodded. "Her wedding is quickly approaching."
Perhaps they were right. Unfortunately, Amanda didn't have enough time to get to know Lord Stafford well. Juliana patted her friend's hand. "You might have to find someone you like a lot and marry him, then be struck by love later."
Amanda took a bite of cake and swallowed convulsively. "Grow into love, you mean?"
"Exactly." Juliana spread jam on another cake. "Lord Stafford isn't only handsome, he's also young and well-off."
"What are you looking for in a man?" Alexandra asked Amanda. "Besides appearance and status, that is. Looks fade, after all. Shared values and interests are much more important."
"Very true," Elizabeth said.
They all deferred to Alexandra as the expert among them on marriage.
Amanda seemed to consider that question for a minute. "I would like a man who is interested in Roman antiquities."
Juliana looked up from the cake, startled. "Since when are you intrigued by Roman antiquities?"
"Since my father found the ruins on our property."
"Three years?"
"More or less. It's a fascinating subject."
"Hmm," Juliana said.
While she suspected Amanda's interest had begun as a hopeless attempt to win her father's favor, she supposed it might have transformed into a sincere fascination. After all, the girl had to find something to amuse herself during all those months and years stuck in the countryside.
However, she sincerely doubted James shared an interest in Roman antiquities. When would he have time to pursue it? The man couldn't even find a few minutes to comb his hair.
"What else are you looking for in a husband?" she asked.
Amanda pondered the question a moment more. "I would like for him to play chess. If I'm to live away from Aunt Mabel, I'd like someone with whom to play chess."
Juliana doubted James had time for chess, either. Which was why she was surprised to hear Rachael say, "Lord Stafford definitely plays chess."
"However do you know that?" she asked.
Having finished sewing the coat, Rachael knotted the thread. "When Griffin came out of the card room last night, I overheard him saying he'd lost thirty guineas to Lord Stafford playing chess."
"Thirty guineas!" Although Juliana enjoyed a hand of cards now and then and certainly understood the appeal of a bet, she wasn't sure she approved of wagering significant sums. Surely that sort of money could be better spent elsewhere—donated to the Foundling Hospital, for instance. "I had no idea Griffin gambled such high stakes."
"I don't expect he usually does," Rachael said, looking amused. "He seemed a bit foxed, which isn't usual for him, either. In any case"—she smiled at Amanda—"Lord Stafford does enjoy chess."
Juliana jumped on that positive attribute. "See, there's more to him than appearance and status."
"He's also a physician," Claire reminded her.
"That, too. Which means he's intelligent and he cares for people."
"He limps," Amanda pointed out.
"Only slightly. And does it signify?"
"Indeed, it shouldn't." Corinna looked up from her easel. "He sounds like a paragon. Why don't you marry him, Juliana?"
"Don't be a goose. I have a duke courting me."
How quickly her dismal prospects had changed. Was it only yesterday she'd despaired of finding a husband? Not only had the duke danced with her twice at Lady Hammersmithe's ball—making brows rise and tongues wag—but toward the end of the evening he'd very kindly asked if he might pay her a call tomorrow afternoon.
She'd accepted, of course. She wasn't an idiot. There wasn't a man in London more perfect than the duke. Maybe she wasn't in love yet, but she was certain she would be soon.
"By the end of the season, I may be the Duchess of Castleton."
Amanda's mouth dropped open. "You'd marry the Duke of Castleton?"
"Wouldn't you?"
"No!" She looked horrified at the mere idea. "Everyone knows he's a by-blow."
Everyone but Juliana, evidently. During all those seasons she'd missed while in mourning, it seemed she'd also missed some fascinating gossip. "What do you mean?"
"It's an open secret," Rachael explained. "The previous duke was away for a year, looking after his interests on the Continent, when his wife conceived a child here in London. To this day, no one knows who sired the child. It really doesn't signify, though, since the last duke arrived home before the current duke was born and acknowledged him as his son."
"It signifies to me," Amanda disagreed. "Marriage to a known by-blow would taint my family."
"How?" Juliana asked. "He's a duke, for heaven's sake. His parentage hasn't affected his standing in society. He's accepted in the best circles."
"I'd never be certain of my children's true heritage. For all we know, the duke could have been fathered by a footman!"
"I cannot see why that makes a difference," Rachael said, "considering the last duke claimed him for a son."
"I'd never trust him to be true to me."
"Why would he be unfaithful?" Juliana wondered. "I imagine the last thing he'd want would be to subject his own children to the shame he's had to live with."
Amanda raised one of her newly plucked brows. "You know what they say: like father, like son."
"They also say the sins of the father shouldn't be visited on the child." Juliana felt sorry the man had been forced to grow up under this cloud. "The circumstances weren't any fault of his. He was a victim, not to blame. You're being entirely too judgmental."
But facts were facts, and the fact was that straitlaced Amanda would never consent to marry the duke. Of course, that didn't matter, since Juliana wanted him for herself. Amanda belonged with Lord Stafford.
Juliana handed her the second Shrewsbury cake, hoping it would help convince her that James was the right man for her. That was why she'd risen at dawn this morning to bake them, after all—they were supposed to help convince people. "Did you meet a man you liked better than Lord Stafford?"
"No," Amanda said. "But there are many more men to meet."
"Not this season. They seem to be staying home." Juliana smeared jam on a cake for herself. "I wonder if it's because of all the cold and wet."
"Now you're being a goose." Corinna swirled her brush in green paint. "I'm having a marvelous time this season—there are plenty of eligible men."
Of course she was having a marvelous time. It was her first season, and Griffin wasn't pressuring her to marry. Not yet, anyway. Juliana was supposed to wed first. "Don't tell me you've fallen in love."
"I'm not in any hurry." Corinna dabbed at her canvas, creating a grassy field out of nothing.
Juliana would never figure out how she did that. Feeling edgy, she rose and wandered closer to scrutinize the bucolic scene. A man and a woman walked hand in hand over rolling hills. Corinna never used to paint people—only landscapes and still lifes. But this past year she'd been adding people to her paintings more and more often.
And not just any people. Lovers. Maybe she was falling in love. "Are you sure?" Juliana asked.
"I don't have time to fall in love right now." Corinna added a dab of white to the green paint on her palette. "My art is more important. Next year, I plan to submit to the Royal Academy."
Juliana nearly choked on her cake. "No women have been elected to the Royal Academy for years."
"Forty-eight years, to be exact. Not since 1768." Corinna mixed the colors together, creating a lighter shade of green. "But I'm not expecting to be elected immediately. My first step is to submit several paintings for next year's Summer Exhibition, in the hopes that one will be selected."
It was a preposterous plan, but apparently the Shrewsbury cakes were somewhat effective, because Juliana was half convinced it might work. However, the cakes didn't seem to be affecting Amanda's view of James, and Juliana wasn't about to see her own project fail.
Although she knew she should resume sewing, she stepped to the window and gazed out at the unceasing rain. The trouble was, unless the Shrewsbury cakes worked magic, there was only so much she could do herself. James would have to do the rest.
Obviously his good looks weren't enough to do the trick. Maybe she should coach him in the ways of wooing. He was, after all, a man consumed by his avocation—with all the time he spent doctoring, perhaps he hadn't had the opportunity to acquire the sort of aristocratic polish necessary to win a lady like Amanda.
Of course, getting him to agree to such training could prove a delicate matter, since, in her experience, the male of the species was often reluctant to admit to any deficiency. But she would bring along some of the Shrewsbury cakes and hope they'd help convince him.
She turned from the window, returning to her chair and the third of thirty frocks. New Hope Institute was closed on Sundays, but she'd pay James a visit tomorrow.