People.
So very many of them.
Too many of them.
Miss Julianna Abigail Drake strangled her fan between her clenched fists until the polished steel guard sticks bit through her gloves into her palms. The fan should be held open in her left hand, while she used a delicate wrist motion to wave it gently, allowing the mother-of-pearl to catch the candlelight and sparkle like jewels.
An open fan in a lady’s left hand signified she desired a man to come and converse with her. At least that was so according to the rules of subtle flirting, her aunt, Lady Roxburrow, had drilled into her every day since her uncle, Viscount Roxburrow, had declared Julianna must either come out this season or be cut off.
In no uncertain terms, he had made it very clear his charity toward his younger brother's only child had reached its end. Julianna needed to either find a husband or...
Well, she much preferred not to think of the alternative.
Which was why she stood at the edge of Lady Devonford’s ballroom, wishing she were back in her room in front of an easel with paint splattered over her hands and arms up to her elbows.
But wishing and hoping never changed anything.
She released her grip on her fan and forced her stiff arms to her sides. Currents of nervous energy relentlessly flowed through her limbs, making her want to move, walk, run, or do something—anything—other than stand about waiting for a man to look past the sea of beautiful young women and notice her. She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her dress, grazed her pinned, thick midnight curls, then touched the silk covering her throat.
Lady Roxburrow leaned in until her lips nearly touched Julianna’s ear and hissed, “Touch your fichu one more time, and I swear I will yank it from around your neck. No man wants a woman who fidgets so much.”
“Yes, Aunt,” she replied softly, removing her hand from the kerchief wrapped around her shoulders and tucked into the front of her bodice.
Over the years, Juliana had learned it was best to keep her responses short whenever whispering was necessary. Because of her hearing impairment, she struggled to gauge her volume. Especially when she only wanted her conversation partner to hear, and not the over-eager aristocrats who would happily ruin her to elevate themselves.
“I’m horrified that the viscount even allowed you to wear it,” Lady Roxburrow continued. “It’s covering your entire neck and cleavage. Soceity affords us women few tools of the physical variety with which to capture a man’s attention, and you are hiding your most valuable one.”
If she weren’t on the edge of crumbling under the stress of attending this ball, Juliana might have laughed at the vehement offense in her aunt’s voice. As if Juliana’s choice to wear a fichu was an affront to the lady herself.
Why did it matter if she chose to show a little less skin than what was considered fashionable? The more skin she showed, the more self-conscious she became. The more self-conscious she became, the more awkward and clumsy she became.
Juliana resumed her vise-grip on her fan, silently praying for an escape from her aunt’s presence. To her great relief, the answer came shortly thereafter in the form of Lady Eleanor Phillips. She’d had the pleasure of meeting the lovely young woman at whichever ball she’d been forced to attend several nights ago.
“Good evening, Miss Drake and Lady Roxburrow,” Eleanor said, dipping into an elegant curtsy Juliana could only dream of executing. “I hope the two of you are well this evening.”
“I am, thank you,” Lady Roxburrow replied first.
Juliana shifted her position to read Eleanor’s lips better. A trick her father had taught her, in case she ever missed hearing a portion of a conversation. It had saved her many times from embarrassing herself in noisy, crowded places such as this.
“I am very well, Lady Eleanor.” Juliana performed a curtsy with considerably less success. “Thank you for inquiring. I hope you are, as well.”
Eleanor placed a feather-light hand on Juliana’s forearm and smiled. Perfectly gracious. Perfectly... perfect.
“As I told you before, it’s Eleanor, please.”
“Very well. Eleanor.”
“Excellent.” She turned her smile on Lady Roxburrow. “With your permission, I would like to take a stroll about the room with Juliana.”
“Yes. Goodness, please do,” Lady Roxburrow blurted, hardly able to contain her excitement.
Juliana didn’t doubt that her aunt wished some of Eleanor’s charm would rub off on her. Or at the very least, elevate her prestige by association.
Eleanor looped her arm through Juliana’s. “Thank you. We shall return shortly.”
Lady Roxburrow vehemently shook her head. “No, no. Take your time.”
“My lady.” Eleanor dipped her chin in farewell, then led Juliana away from her aunt. A kindness she would be forever grateful for.
Juliana bowed her head ever so slightly so she could steal glances at Eleanor’s lips. Luckily, their closeness and the way Eleanor annunciated every word helped her hear most of the conversation without needing much assistance.
“Thank you. I don’t know if our acquaintance has been long enough for me to say this, but you rescued me from a rather unpleasant diatribe about the many ways I am lacking. All of which my aunt thinks will lead to my eventual descent into the disgrace of spinsterhood.”
“Spinsterhood.” Eleanor groaned dramatically. “The fate all young women of breeding dread above all else.”
Juliana grinned. “Not I. If I could, I’d remain unmarried. I’d travel the world and deepen my studies of art and painting.”
“You consider yourself a painter? Are you a good one? I can’t say that I am. I never cared to achieve that particular accomplishment.”
“If it doesn’t sound too arrogant, I like to think I am a good painter. It is one of my favorite pastimes. If I could I’d spend most of the day in front of my easel I might become the happiest person in the world.”
Eleanor patted her arm and gave her an understanding smile. “Since arrogance is a trait only men are allowed to partake in, I’d never assign it to another woman, especially a friend, even if it were true. But if you have a talent, there is no shame in refusing to belittle it.”
“Thank you.” Juliana’s cheeks warmed. Praise, no matter how small, was something she’d never fully known how to accept. “If I could trade my skill for your grace and amiability, I would. As much as I wish it were otherwise, life as a self-sufficient painter is not a possibility. I possess none of the talents necessary to acquire a husband and run a household, yet it is the only realistic future available to me.”
“Practice is the key, my dear. For years, my mother made my governess force me to curtsy in front of a mirror until my knees practically gave out.”
“How dreadful.” Juliana shuddered, imagining such a childhood.
“Very.” A shadow flickered across Eleanor’s face, dampening her cheerful disposition. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. “I am grateful to her, though. I wouldn’t be the favorite of the season otherwise.”
“I can not argue with that.”
Nearly every man in attendance had clamored to claim a spot on Eleanor’s dance card as soon as she’d arrived. While Juliana’s dance card still had many available spots left, Eleanor’s had filled within minutes.
Perhaps if her parents had provided a stricter foundation in social decorum, she’d have a better chance at finding a suitable husband. Then again, nothing about her parents, or the way they raised her, had been traditional. Her British father, the second son of the former Viscount Roxburrow, had fallen in love with her mother, a free woman of color on the Island of Jamaica. He’d never once thought twice about marrying her and bringing her home to England. His family's displeasure meant next to nothing compared to his unending love for her mother, who had loved him just as fiercely.
Their love had spilled over onto Juliana, who had adored them just as much. Losing them was the hardest thing she’d ever endured.
Shaking off the memories of the past, Juliana refocused on Eleanor, hoping she hadn’t missed something requiring a response. “If you don’t mind...” the rest of the words dried up on Juliana’s tongue.
Her head snapped up. She searched the surrounding crowd for the source of the voice she thought she’d never hear again. The one she never had trouble picking out, even in the loudest room.
She stilled when she spotted him.
Colin. The Duke of Herstshire.
The man she’d foolishly loved with the fervor of a hopelessly naive girl.
It was him. Standing with a group of his peers, captivating them with every word he spoke, as he’d once done to her.
Her heart rattled in her chest, searching for the protection of a dark hole to dive into.
She’d been concentrating so hard on Eleanor’s lips and listening to their conversation that she hadn’t noticed the direction Eleanor had been leading her.
Straight to him.
He watched them approach in that intense way that had always made her feel like he wanted to devour her very soul. Like he could see into her heart and pluck out her deepest secrets. While it used to excite her to be known so fully, now it terrified her.
Being known by him had left her vulnerable to him.
Being vulnerable to him had left her crushed by him.
As they came closer, he excused himself from his group and turned his full attention on them. Or more so, on Juliana.
“Good evening, my lord,” Eleanor greeted him, dipping into another impeccable curtsy.
Juliana remained frozen, every muscle in her body drawn taught. Instinct screamed for her to run across the ballroom, out the front door, and not stop until she was safely nestled in her carriage, headed home.
“Good evening, Lady Eleanor,” Colin responded to Eleanor, although his eyes never left Juliana. “Miss Drake.”
The deepening of his voice and the way his posture relaxed when he said her name, raised the hairs on the nape of Juliana’s neck. It was as if he were remembering the easy, uninhibited relationship they’d once shared. And moreover, thoroughly enjoying the memories.
Eleanor’s questioning gaze volleyed between Juliana and Colin. Their familiarity couldn’t be missed by anyone paying a modicum of attention. How much of their history should she tell her new friend?
“I hope you are well, Your Grace,” Eleanor continued, cutting through the tension surrounding their small circle.
Colin tore his eyes away from Juliana. “I am. Are you?” As soon as the polite platitude fell from his lips, his rapt attention centered on Juliana once again.
While the sting of being ignored had lost its bite for Juliana, it was probably a new, highly unpleasant experience for Eleanor. Juliana wanted to feel contrite, but truthfully, she didn’t. It was nice being the object of a man’s desire once again—even if it was Colin’s.
Eleanor’s smile tightened. “Yes, I am very well, Your Grace.”
“And you, Ju...” Colin peered at Eleanor. The corners of his mouth turned down. “Miss Drake. Are you well this evening?”
Could it be he wished they had a private moment? She must be going mad because, for a moment, Juliana wanted to be alone with him as well.
What would he say to her?
What could he say?
There weren’t enough apologies in all of London to rectify the way he’d treated her.
“I...” She couldn’t do this—pretend as if a painful history didn’t exist between them. It did. And so did the tears, broken promises, and shattered dreams. Juliana moved to walk away, but Eleanor’s arm tightened around hers, holding her in place.
She studied the other woman, her brow creased in confusion. Eleanor stared straight ahead at Colin, as if purposely avoiding eye contact with her. What was she up to?
“If I may be so bold as to speak on her behalf.” Eleanor beamed, her visage overly sweet. She patted Juliana’s arm a little too forcefully to be friendly. “Miss Drake was informing me of how grateful she was that I rescued her from the stern attention of her aunt. Lady Roxburrow doesn’t understand Juliana’s shyness and how it contributes to her desire to remain on the outskirts of fashion. Some women aren’t as confident in their appearance as others, and that is perfectly acceptable. Plenty of gentlemen love a more homely woman. Wouldn’t you agree, my lord?” Eleanor finally looked at Juliana. “Did I speak up enough for you, my dear? I’ve been informed you have a slight problem with your hearing.”
Eleanor’s voice was so loud that not only did Juliana hear her clearly, so did everyone around them. Juliana snatched her arm back, breaking Eleanor’s hold. The betraying remarks bludgeoned the little confidence she’d managed to muster at the start of the evening. So much for her hopes of having a friend with which to brave the perils of the season.
Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she kept them at bay.
“Though the duplicity of your words is not lost on me, I shall address you as if it were,” Colin growled, low and dangerous. “You are correct. I do think Miss Drake is a stinkingly beautiful woman, and I’m sure plenty of other gentlemen do as well. Now, if you will remove yourself from my presence, I would be much obliged.”
Eleanor’s mouth fell open, then closed after several stunned seconds. If being ignored was a new concept for her, being put so thoroughly in her place was not something she’d ever conceived as a possibility. She thrust her chin in the air, spun on her heels, and stormed off without another word.
The urge to bolt and never show her face in public rode Juliana so hard she couldn’t enjoy Colin’s expertly executed rebuff. She moved to flee in the opposite direction than Eleanor, but Colin’s warm hand clasped onto her wrist, halting her retreat.
“Are you well?” he asked quietly, making sure to move his lips slowly for her to read them. Not that she needed him to. Juliana had long ago memorized every movement and shape his lips could form.
She didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply to him. He was her enemy. The man who had encouraged her affections, then trampled them beneath the hooves of his horse the day he’d ridden away from her. She loathed him for having the audacity to show concern for her now. And was ashamed of herself for wanting to leap into his arms and take the solace she hoped still awaited her in them.
Misunderstanding her silence, Colin held up a hand and discreetly made the sign they’d made up a long time ago to ask how she was feeling.
“Don’t do that,” Juliana hissed. “I heard your question. Release me at once. People are beginning to stare.”
Damn him.
Using their secret language. He had no right!
Colin obeyed her command and dropped his hands to his side. His voice gentled. “Pay no attention to what Lady Eleanor said. And never think you have to emulate her and her ilk. Their friendship is as false as their words are flattering.”
Juliana hugged her middle in a feeble attempt to protect herself from the emotional bruising she didn’t have the strength to take. A new wave of anger flared within her. At Eleanor, at society, at him, and at herself for longing to have his touch soothing her once again.
“You would know a lot about the falseness that can be found in flattering words.”
“Do not let our past keep you from heeding my warning. She is not to be trusted. I heard her gossiping with her friends about you the other night at the theater.”
“Why would I be important enough to be the topic of conversation for Lady Eleanor and her friends? What did she say?”
Colin uncomfortably shifted his stance and slid a hand beneath the lapel of his coat. “She called you her ordinary ball companion. Someone she can keep nearby at social functions to make herself look better in comparison. She said you were her ‘infallible plan to gain a husband this season’.”
Juliana inhaled a sharp breath. The depths of human cruelty would never cease to shock and appall her.
“Thank you for your honesty, Your Grace.” She hated the tremble in her voice as she spoke. “And for your lie about my beauty.”
“I did not lie.”
“Call it what you will. I see my reflection every day. I have no delusions about my appearance. I know my current odds of securing a committed proposal from a gentleman are as unlikely as they were years ago.”
“Juliana—” He reached for her again. His hand stopped, suspended in the space between them, when her withering glare sliced through him.
“Don’t waste your concern on me. If you truly are capable of feeling such an emotion on my behalf. Our last encounter left me very doubtful of that.”
“I’m very sorry,” he said so low that Juliana didn’t hear it, only saw the shape of his lips issuing the apology.
His pained expression almost made her want to accept it.
“Don’t be, my lord. You have taught me to be much more judicious when assessing the character of those with whom I chose to associate. You know, with your reckless disregard for the feelings of others, you and Lady Eleanor are made for one another. If you will excuse me, I must be going.”
Juliana hurried off, giving him no chance to respond or see her tears fall.
Colin’s heart shattered a little more with each step Juliana took away from him. He’d hurt her yet again. As if the first time didn’t haunt him enough.
How could he make this right? Should he even try?
He was supposed to be finding a wife, not hammering more nails into the coffin of a dead love.
He needed to leave.
And a very stiff drink.