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LOUISA SAT MUSING IN the library, heavy-eyed from lack of sleep, the morning after the masquerade. It was barely eight o’clock, and the party had only returned to the Grosvenor Square address five hours before. It was so early, in fact, that the tentative winter sun barely cast any light into the room. Louisa hadn’t bothered to ring for a fire to be lit, so the room was dim and quite cold.
She didn’t mind the weak light, and she hardly noticed the room’s temperature. She sat in a huddle on her aunt’s swooping Grecian sofa, lost in thought. She had, she realized, a great many things to think about.
First and foremost, she was beginning to see that Julia didn’t need her here, after all. Perhaps she hadn’t given her sister enough credit. Perhaps she’d drawn too much upon her own miserable experience in London and assumed that Julia’s would be the same.
But good heavens, Julia hadn’t needed her help with anything. She’d got the most desirable modiste in town to dress her, without even trying; she’d made friends, even if they were a bit silly; she’d seen more of London already than Louisa had seen in her entire season.
And now, it seemed, she had a kind, handsome, intelligent, dependable, and financially solvent man—a man who was everything she said she wanted—displaying honorable interest in her. It was why Julia had come to London, to find such a man, and the season hadn’t even begun.
So much for Julia. What about James, then? Louisa mused, curling herself into a smaller ball as she considered the other person for whom she had come to London.
Well, what about him? She had told Julia that courtship was a matter of logic, so she might as well be logical about this.
James was unfailingly gentlemanly to her. She saw him often. He liked her family quite a bit, and he certainly gave their aunt tit for tat, which Louisa thought Lady Irving rather enjoyed.
His family had become more polite as well; Louisa even had a standing weekly engagement to take tea with them. The invitation had been extended by his sister, who was thawing out noticeably. Given time, Louisa thought, she and Gloria might come to be friends.
But time—time was the problem. How much time did she have to give? Or want to give, for that matter? How much time would she give herself to feel right about her decision to marry James? Was she ready to give a lifetime?
Families aside—how did she and James really feel about each other?
She tried to curl up even more tightly, but she had reached the limits of how small she could make her tall form. She wasn’t ready to think about the answers to those questions, especially not the last. She might read a lot of novels, but she had always tried to be a sensible girl, and it would hardly be sensible to jeopardize her standing as one of the luckiest girls of last year’s season.
If she wasn’t so tired, maybe everything would make more sense. And so, very sensibly, she went back upstairs to her bedchamber, and did her utmost to fall asleep, until she heard others moving about the house and could get up again.
***
SIR STEPHEN CALLED later that day, bearing a bunch of snowdrops “as fresh and dainty as are you, Miss Herington, if you’ll permit my saying so.”
Julia was willing to permit this statement, although it seemed a bit . . . well, flowery, to be honest. But she couldn’t help being flattered; she’d never had a man give her flowers before.
She had liked talking to Sir Stephen the evening before. He’d been interesting to talk to, unlike Freddie Pellington—who, though he really was as kind as James had promised, couldn’t seem to make anything come out of his mouth that didn’t involve at least two “dash its” and one “old fellow.” But Sir Stephen had talked with Julia about household management and seemed to care what she said and thought. He’d listened, which she knew from long experience with her head-in-the-clouds stepfather Lord Oliver was something that many men didn’t do. James did, but James was unusual.
Anyway, she was glad to see Sir Stephen again, and he was just as interesting to talk to as he had been the evening before. Julia could talk for any length of time about household matters or her family, and she was delighted to be encouraged to do this by a new acquaintance.
True, there was that one hitch in the conversation, when she made a mild joke about her young siblings running her down to within an inch of her life. Sir Stephen had blinked at her in concern, and asked if she were “able to apportion herself sufficient time to recuperate from her charges’ enthusiastic behavior, in order to maintain her good health.”
Then it was Julia’s turn to blink, and reel through the lengthy words to sort out what he had asked her.
“Oh,” she finally replied after she had parsed the sentence. “Yes, it’s fine. I, ah, didn’t mean it literally.”
“Ah,” Sir Stephen said, enlightened. “You were being hyperbolic. I understand.”
Julia nodded, puzzled. Didn’t the man understand a simple figure of speech? Well, he did now—he knew she was being “hyperbolic.” But still, it was odd to be taken so literally. So seriously. A girl appreciated the attention and everything, but there were limits.
However, she brushed it aside, and they passed the remainder of a very proper twenty-minute visit under the lax chaperonage of Lady Irving, who kept “forgetting” items that she needed and leaving the room to retrieve them.
Sir Stephen commented that it was a shame to have her ladyship’s industry so often interrupted, and he hoped Julia did not feel uncomfortable to be left alone with him. He even offered to stand outside the door until Lady Irving should return to the drawing room. Julia assured him this wasn’t necessary, after which statement he looked at her with concern and said that he only had her reputation in mind.
“I certainly appreciate that,” Julia replied patiently, “but I assure you, my aunt will return soon.”
After that they fell silent, a bit constrained. When Lady Irving did return, the baronet stood and took his leave of both ladies. He asked if he might call again, and before Julia could even reply, her ladyship jumped in with a dazzling smile.
“Sir Stephen, we’d be simply delighted to have you. Please come anytime.”
And with that reassurance, their male caller left with a smile on his face.
Lady Irving turned at once to Julia and hissed, “Next time, make good use of the opportunity when I leave the room. Wealthy, single gentlemen don’t grow on trees, you know.”
“Yes, I know that, Aunt. There’s no man-tree for husband-grubbing maidens such as myself. I know why I’m here, I promise. But what would you have me do, jump in his lap? Honestly, I think he’d leave in terror.” Not to mention she didn’t really want to jump in his lap.
As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they had been a mistake. Lady Irving always considered even the most outrageous “hyperbolic statements” with the same level of seriousness she gave to the selection of her silk turban each morning. Which was a surprisingly high level of seriousness.
“Jumping into his lap . . . it’s not a bad idea,” the countess now replied thoughtfully. “Mind you, though, I’m not saying that’s right for Saville. He’s keen on propriety, and it might put him off. But if he doesn’t come up to scratch, that would work like a charm with most other young gentlemen.”
“Wouldn’t it make them think I was fast? You know, like a lady bird?” Julia asked doubtfully.
“Don’t say ‘lady bird,’” Lady Irving admonished. “It’s vulgar. Where did you ever learn about lady birds?”
Julia had to think about that. “Maybe I heard you mention them?”
“Hmmph.” Her aunt looked skeptical. “Possible, but it’s unladylike to talk about. For a young miss, that is. I can say whatever I want. Just you keep in mind the difference between an unmarried lady and a widow, my girl—especially a wealthy widow.”
Julia dutifully promised to keep the difference in mind, though she wasn’t exactly sure why there was such a large gulf between what was permitted for a lady unmarried and a lady married. Wasn’t a maiden allowed to have a brain in her head? She was beginning to wonder. Her aunt had certainly told her that any number of her phrases and behaviors were vulgar or unladylike since coming to town. She’d have to watch herself carefully, she was beginning to realize, especially when the ton started streaming back to London in greater numbers to begin the season in earnest.
She sighed. She couldn’t help missing Stonemeadows when she felt London pinching away at her like this. And sure enough—
“It’s unladylike to sigh,” Lady Irving replied automatically. “You’ll be wanting to avoid that type of thing when you’re around Sir Stephen.”
No, actually, she wasn’t sure that she would.
***
SEVERAL WEEKS TRICKLED by, weeks in which James and Sir Stephen were frequent callers at the Grosvenor Square address. Sometimes both of them came at once, squiring her and Louisa around the city. These outings inevitably began with Louisa and James paired, leaving Julia to accompany Sir Stephen.
He was kind enough, but his intense seriousness began to pall on her, and his focused interest in her every word was intimidating. She felt she had to weigh each word with care lest it be misinterpreted, which was an undeniable hardship for a girl used more to speaking in paragraphs than sentences.
Whenever she could, she tried to break the stride of the foursome as they walked out together—by stumbling, staring into a shop window, whatever it took—so that she could try to change their grouping and walk with James. She felt a tiny bit guilty leaving Louisa with the baronet, but Louisa never admonished her for it. And Louisa got to see James all the time, while Julia did not.
In truth, Julia hardly ever saw James anymore, since she was out so much of the time with Lady Charissa or paying the requisite morning calls with her aunt. Between the efforts of those two aristocratic ladies, she was learning more and more about the ins and outs of London society as the wealthy and titled, bit by bit, straggled back to town from their country estates.
She had never expected to be kept so busy, and with such a series of inconsequentialities. Some days she arrived home late, exhausted, and couldn’t think of a single memorable thing she had done. She didn’t mind, since she knew the social whirl was her reason for being in London. But more and more, she understood why Louisa’s spirits had been lowered by the relentless social beating each day brought. Julia liked talking to a lot of people, and still, it was tiring.
So, she and James rarely crossed paths now. No one seemed to think it at all necessary that she should ever get to spend any time in the company of her sister’s betrothed husband. It was much more important that she meet powerful strangers, or undergo yet another dress fitting, or be seen driving out in Hyde Park with someone or other, by someone or other.
And it wasn’t a social necessity that she see James . . . but she missed him all the same. He was a necessity to her. Even though she’d promised to look for a husband, she thought about him more than she cared to tell anyone. It felt like a secret she ought to keep, even though she couldn’t think of the last time she’d kept a secret, especially from Louisa. The knowledge of her hidden feelings preoccupied her, putting a sense of distance between her and Louisa.
So passed the remainder of January, and the grayness of February. The weeks flew quickly, and Julia could recall little of them after they had passed. The delivery of the first batch of Oiseau dresses was, perhaps, Julia’s favorite day of that time. She realized it was probably vain of her to enjoy them so much, but she’d never had such beautiful clothes before in her life. While the thought that they were only beginning the season, after having been in town for two months, was daunting—well, it helped a bit to think of getting to wear her lovely new gowns.
At the end of February, Charissa Bradleigh excitedly called to tell Julia that there would be a ball at Alleyneham House in a few weeks, to begin the intense and unrelenting whirl of gaiety that made up the London season.
“Lord, it’s going to be absolutely amazing!” the young aristocrat exclaimed. “We’ve never had a ball so early in the season, but Papa and Mama are keen on getting us married off this year. They’ve been planning this one almost since the last one was over with.”
She laughed unconcernedly. “What care I why, though? A ball is a ball! Except this one will be grander than any we’ve ever had before. Why, everyone who’s anyone will be there.”
“Really?” Julia replied with interest. She couldn’t help herself; she just had to ask. “You’ll be inviting . . . say . . . Lord Matheson?”
“Oh, good heavens, of course!” Charissa replied cheerfully. “I expect we’ll be inviting about four hundred people; maybe even more. So he’ll be included, I’m certain.” She smiled insinuatingly. “He is a handsome gentleman, isn’t he? I know he’s engaged, but that doesn’t stop a girl from looking!”
Julia realized she’d blundered, and hastened to cover her mistake. “Er—yes, he’s a nice-looking man. I mean, I haven’t really thought about it, but I suppose he is. But, you know, he’s marrying Louisa, and so if we’re to go, then I wanted to make sure he would be there. For her sake. Since, um, she feels better when he’s around.”
And so do I, she thought, but she certainly wasn’t going to say that to her friend. She’d already said more than enough.
Fortunately Charissa wasn’t of a contemplative turn of mind, and she cheerfully agreed that Louisa would like having James with her.
“After all,” she dimpled, “I rather like having him around myself. I know he’s hands-off, no-touching,” she assured Julia, “but he’s nice to look at, and so witty, I declare!” This drove her into a peal of giggles.
Julia tried to share her friend’s laughter, but it felt false. Charissa’s words woke all sorts of feelings that she’d tried to quash over the past weeks. She ached with the desire to talk more about James, and the pain of the knowledge that she shouldn’t.
So instead, she asked Charissa all about the ball, and the earl’s daughter happily prattled about the decorations, the food, the number of extra servants they would have to take on for the evening, the sad crush—also known as a social triumph—that it was sure to be.
As her friend talked on, eventually Julia’s discomfort began to melt away. Charissa’s excitement was so vivid and contagious that she couldn’t help beginning to share it. After all, the ball at Alleyneham House had been a turning point in Louisa’s life less than a year before. Now Julia would have a chance to attend the same type of event, only—if Charissa could be believed—even larger, grander, more exciting, more elaborate. More everything.
Maybe, just maybe, it would be a turning point for her as well. Somehow.