Chapter Twenty-Four

It was the day of the queen’s ball, and Julia could not bloody wait for it to be over. When the sun rose tomorrow, she’d be in a carriage and bound for the west, headed for Lynton Park, where she could hide herself away from the prying eyes of society. But first, she had to finish with this ridiculous outfit.

“You shall be the most celebrated woman at the ball, Your Grace.” Mrs. Maxwell beamed as she strutted around Julia, deploying one of her assistants to finish adjusting the waistline or the hem just so.

“I shall certainly be the most memorable,” Julia muttered. The modiste had taken the challenge of outfitting the new, modern Cinderella, and she had bolted ahead with that challenge wedged firmly between her teeth. The white satin gown had been lavishly embroidered about the hem with whorls of silver thread, creating patterns of lush roses. Julia couldn’t begin to imagine the expense, but that was her life now. As Duchess of Ashworth, cost meant nothing.

The gown was merely the first step. Julia didn’t know where Mrs. Maxwell had come by or created the pelisse of sheer silver lace, but it created an almost ghostly effect when Julia slipped it on over the gleaming gown. In addition, Julia would wear a lavish collar of diamonds, with a diamond tiara and loose diamonds threaded artfully through her hair as well.

When Mrs. Maxwell had shown Julia the pinnacle of the outfit—a pair of lightly heeled shoes covered in shapes of glittering glass—Julia had almost laughed.

She’d never felt so conspicuous in her life. Though she’d always been considered an attractive and engaging person, even Julia in the first bloom of her youth had never known the excitement, or the terror, of being the most talked-about person in any room. Now she was the focus of every room she entered.

It was the dream she’d nurtured for ten long years when she was trapped in Pennington Hall, the hope that one day she’d find her place in society. But now she had all that, she realized none of the attention mattered a whit if Gregory wasn’t with her.

A brutal irony. The one thing she hadn’t married him for—himself—was now the one thing she didn’t wish to live without.

“Voilà. Beautiful, Your Grace.” Mrs. Maxwell clapped her hands with giddiness as Julia’s gorgeous monstrosity of a costume was finally complete.

“Indeed. You shall eclipse every debutante this Season,” a familiar voice said.

“Lady Weatherford.” Julia could have cried with relief when her friend entered the shop. She needed a kindly face to keep her from brooding over her marriage. “Are you here for your own gown?”

“No, mine was delivered two days ago. Lord Weatherford is less than pleased I’ve chosen Beauty and the Beast as our joint costume.” Laura laughed, though it seemed slightly unnatural. Forced.

“Are you well?”

“Quite well, my dear. In truth, I’m here because Peele informed me that you’d come for your final fitting. I hoped we might find a moment for a private chat.”

“Has something happened?”

“No. Not yet.”

What a mysterious comment. Julia was curious, but Laura didn’t want to speak any further until the women left the shop. The viscountess dismissed her own carriage and rode with Julia through the park. Promenading couples all watched the duchess’s coach with interest as it passed. A couple of gentlemen rode by on their horses and tipped their hats.

“Your popularity continues to grow,” Laura said.

“Bother them all, what’s wrong?” Julia had never developed the well brought up lady’s ability to feign disinterest and wait for the conversation to turn naturally to the subject she desired. Far as she saw it, men could keep their tactfulness. Women needed to get things done.

“Two nights ago, I was at the Leowenes’ house for a concert. I saw Susannah there, and who should I meet but Mrs. Woodhouse with her husband and her cousin in tow.”

Lucas. Julia was now damnably grateful she had gone to the theatre instead.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

“I introduced Susannah, and Mr. Campbell took a decided interest in her. Particularly, I must admit, when I mentioned to Mrs. Woodhouse that the girl was your stepsister.” Laura appeared slightly guilty. “I’m sorry. I should have been more bloody careful.”

“Whatever happened wasn’t your fault,” Julia said at once, taking her friend’s hand. She’d recently told Laura the whole ugly story of her botched elopement, and how Lucas Campbell had managed to reenter Julia’s life and insert a wedge between her and her husband. “Tell me about Campbell. What kind of interest did he show?”

But already Julia’s mind was spinning, concocting plausible scenarios. Ten years ago, Lucas had learned that Susannah, not Julia, was the heiress in the family. Now Susannah was of age, out in society, and Lucas was still in need of funds. Not only was Susannah vastly wealthy, she was also beautiful, agreeable, and if Lucas was of a vindictive nature then taking Julia’s stepsister as his bride would prove an excellent manner of revenge.

“He danced with her twice, and yesterday he called and brought flowers.”

“How do you know this?” Julia’s heart was in her throat. How the hell did she herself not know?

“I dropped round for an afternoon call. Lady Beaumont mentioned it. She seemed pleased; Susannah’s got a bevy of suitors, of course, but Campbell seems unusually keen.”

“Yes, because he requires an heiress,” Julia snapped. Leave it to Constance to not have a thought in her head. “Is Susannah happy?”

“Absolutely not. When her mother left the room, she told me that Campbell has made certain to ferret out wherever she’ll be these last few days. She feels as though he’s hunting her.”

“Wretched man.” Julia had made her mistake with Campbell in the past, but only she should have to pay the price. Not her stepsister. “Would you mind terribly if I stopped at Beaumont House?”

“I’d be only too delighted,” Laura replied.

Once there, Julia found Constance alone. Her stepmother looked up from her needlework as Julia was shown into the morning room.

“I’m afraid Susannah is out.”

“I’m here on her behalf,” Julia said. “How could you of all people allow Mr. Campbell anywhere near her?”

“You make everything so very dramatic. There is nothing wrong with Susannah receiving a caller, is there? After all, not every man in London can fling himself at your feet, Julia. Unless this is your wounded pride speaking?”

“Stop these petty little games for one minute and listen to me! I fear Campbell has designs upon Susannah. Serious ones.”

“Come now. I’ve no intention of seeing him as my son-in-law, and Susannah shows no interest in him as a serious prospect. After all, he’s no title and no fortune. But he’s done nothing untoward.”

“You know the kind of behavior he showed me ten years ago. He’s a snake, Constance.”

“He treated you in such a manner, my dear, not your stepsister. The more suitors that flock around Susannah, the better. After all, the more attention she receives, the better the odds that the Duke of Huntington will notice.”

Constance truly lived in a world of titles and fantasy. She didn’t even care if Susannah could fall in love with the duke or not. The woman viewed human relationships as if men and women were dolls to be mashed together, an endless nursery game.

“If you don’t do a better job of protecting Susannah, there could be consequences that she’ll have to live with the rest of her life. From now on, you must not allow Mr. Campbell entry to the house, and you must quietly insist he stop pursuing her.”

“Thank you very much, but she is my family, not yours.” Constance put her nose in the air, challenging Julia to disagree. “All you want is for Susannah to stay in your shadow forever. I know what’s best for my daughter.”

“I won’t see Susannah pay for your thick-headedness,” Julia said hotly.

“You’re not half as clever as you think, Julia. All you really know of the world can be found in some insipid library. Ugh, such a waste of womanhood. Sitting around, endlessly translating boring old Greek in that cursed Aeneid.”

“Virgil wrote the Aeneid in Latin,” Julia said.

“Oh, that is precisely my point! You think you know everything, but it would be best for all of us if you took yourself back to Lynton Park and focused upon becoming a proficient duchess. Leave Susannah to me.”

There would be no reasoning with her, so Julia left and returned Laura home. Back at Carter House, Julia began the long and exasperating process of preparing herself for the queen’s ball. She bathed and spent hours dressing her hair in an elaborate forest of ringlets. All while her maid primped Julia and applied cosmetics, she thought the scenario through.

She couldn’t rely upon Gregory for help, painful as it was to admit. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with their shared life. Besides, she feared he’d take any excuse to challenge Campbell to a duel, and Julia was not ready to become a widow or the wife of a murderer. Not yet.

As the world outside began to darken, Julia dressed in the white satin gown and the shimmering lace pelisse. She slid her feet into the glass slippers and allowed her maid to affix the collar of diamonds around her throat.

She’d have to look after Susannah on her own tonight. Julia was accustomed to managing things on her own.

But she was so bloody tired of it.

…

“Why do monarchs love fancy dress parties so bloody much?” Gregory growled as Tomkins helped him into the embroidered waistcoat. “I look like a stuffed silver peacock.”

“That’s an arresting image, Your Grace.” Tomkins cheerily brushed off the back of Gregory’s coat. As Cinderella’s handsome Prince, he was expected to look the part. He’d been outfitted in trousers of pale dove-gray silk, a silver vest and cravat, and a waistcoat of bright platinum satin that made him wince whenever he glimpsed it in a mirror. He looked like a preening fool.

At least he didn’t have to dance with glass shoes on his feet. He left the hardest part of the night to Julia’s effortless capability.

Gregory waited downstairs for his wife to finish her toilette and join him. Fashionable lateness could be excused in ordinary parts of high society, but Her Majesty would never allow such a snub, especially from arguably the two most important guests.

When his duchess emerged from her chamber and descended the staircase, all Gregory’s irritation evaporated. His ability to breathe halted as well.

The woman had always been a goddess in his eyes, but now he swore the rest of the world would see her that same way. She glided down the staircase, her plethora of diamonds winking in the candlelight. When she lifted her skirt the tiniest bit, he caught the flash of glass slippers. Even if Gregory regretted having to play the part of a handsome prince, he acknowledged that Julia was made for the position of a Cinderella. A true shame he couldn’t crown her an actual princess at the end of the night. She looked like royalty.

“Well.” He felt too tongue-tied in her presence, and bowed. “The queen wanted you to outshine every debutante in the city this evening. I’d say you accomplished the feat.”

“I could say the same for you.” Julia’s dimple appeared with her smile. Gregory could have lost himself within her if he had time.

Giving this woman up would be the greatest sacrifice he’d ever make.

The duke and duchess entered their coach and set off toward the palace. Gregory watched Julia in the semi-darkness of their carriage, noting how she clutched a fistful of her skirt in an anxious gesture.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. It was unlike his wife to shiver, or to sit so still. Normally Julia was a maelstrom of energy and opinion.

“Shouldn’t I be? After all, we might be walking into humiliation.” She couldn’t look at him, choosing to stare out the window instead.

“How the devil do you mean?”

“The ton has been gossiping about the state of our marriage. I saw Mrs. Fulbright at the modiste today, and she made a few pointed remarks that I’m sure she believed were subtle.”

“They’re cowards to a man. Or woman. A little effort on our part will dispel the worst sorts of gossips and scolds.”

“What kind of effort?” She finally glanced at him and canted her head to the side, at once teasing and inviting. For the moment, her nerves seemed to have vanished. Well, why not? For one final evening, Gregory could be spellbound by her. He took his place at her side as the carriage rocked its way through the London streets.

“I’m certain you remember all our lessons, my dear.”

“Our library sessions, you mean?” The ghost of a smile traced her lips. “Only too well. Sadly, polite society won’t allow such a public exhibition.”

“Because of mere jealousy. The sight of you in this gown will inspire the envy of every woman present.” Gregory tugged at the fingertips of Julia’s right glove. Slowly, he slid the garment off her arm, allowing the fine, supple leather to caress her skin as it departed. “It will also fire the imagination of every man present, though I’m certain the dress will be a hindrance to their fantasies.”

“Am I so desirable, then?”

“You are coy, madam. You must know your own worth.”

Gregory turned her hand so that the palm was up. Even in the near darkness of the coach, he noticed the pale tracery of veins against the fine skin of her wrist. He bent his head and kissed her there, reveling in the light gasp he wrung from her lips. Julia’s fingertips traced his cheek, leaving lines of heat behind as she explored. Her palm cupped his face, lifting Gregory’s head to meet her own. He laid a kiss upon her neck as Julia leaned back against the velvet interior of the carriage.

“When we arrive,” he whispered against her hair, “you will have such a bloom upon your cheeks that everyone will know precisely what we have done.”

“You forget, Your Grace. We must have a care for public opinion.” But Julia’s voice broke as he took her delicate earlobe between his teeth. When Gregory put his hands upon her body, he found her shaking with anticipation. “If I look so freshly tumbled, it will be a scandal.”

“I don’t mean for you to appear disheveled. When a woman is satisfied, that satisfaction is evident upon every inch of her body. In the way she holds her head. In the health of her color. In the set of her shoulders.”

His hand caressed her silken front, and then disappeared between her legs. Julia moaned as he slid the garment up to her stockinged knee, then cupped her calf. Her legs were gorgeous, as was the rest of her. When they wrapped around his waist in the full throes of passion, he became the luckiest devil in England.

“You shouldn’t,” Julia whispered as his hand trailed up and up, cupping her sex. One finger slid through the delicate curls covering her mound, and his wife exhaled as he parted her silken folds.

“Do you want me to stop, then?”

Gregory loved the power he had over her as she whimpered and rocked her hips back and forth against his hand. He took his time, savoring the feel of her sex, the velvet warmth of her. Julia was a formidable woman, but she gave herself up to him completely with his merest caress. He still possessed her soul and her body.

Both of which he must relinquish.

“Why are you such a tease?” She gasped the words as his thumb traced the perfect spot between her thighs.

“I don’t tease, madam. I simply enjoy myself.”

She clenched around his fingers as he worked her harder, and Gregory felt his manhood stiffen almost painfully as Julia let out a low, breathy moan with her climax. He kissed and nibbled at her jawline while her hands fumbled against his chest, her fingers trembling upon the fall of his trousers. Though he hated to, he held her wrists.

“Unfortunately, we haven’t the time.” Indeed, the palace was drawing ever nearer through the dark. “The moment has come to play our part in this little fairy story.”

“Yes.” Julia leaned back against the seat in seeming resignation. “One last ball to get through, and then the fairy tale ends.”

Too true. Gregory felt bitter regret sitting in his heart as he watched his wife lift her head, preparing her smile for society.

At the stroke of midnight, their spell would be broken.