Chapter Four

After bidding farewell to Lord Pomeroy and their party, Graham climbed into his carriage and directed the driver to White’s. Although not happy with the way the evening had turned out, he grinned at Juliet’s maneuvers. This time he had to give the point to her. She’d managed to rid herself of both him and Applegate with quite a bit of finesse.

After she had settled behind them next to her father, Applegate had spent quite a bit of time fidgeting, looking over his shoulder at her, and glaring at him. Graham was more than happy to have had a part in ruining the man’s evening, and his attempt to curry favor with Juliet.

He scowled when he thought of the man. He was much too possessive of Juliet, and needed to be put in his place very soon. Juliet was his, and no matter how much effort and time it took, he would have her. For his wife. Forever.

The ride to White’s was taken up with him ruminating on his predicament and how to resolve it. If Juliet wouldn’t even speak with him, it would be impossible for him to persuade her to forgive him, and let them move forward with how things had been before the duke had asked him to escort Amy to Paris.

Once again, he cursed the timing on that whole episode, but there hadn’t been any way he could deny the duke’s request. He just owed the man too much to turn him down. The duke had always adored his daughter, despite her deficiencies, and Graham knew the man had to have been devastated to find out she had been taken advantage of.

The time he’d spent with Amy had convinced him, however, that she had not been taken advantage of in the true sense, and indeed, did believe herself to be in love with the babe’s father. Such a conundrum. When he’d left her in Paris, she was still insisting she would return to the babe’s father and marry him, with or without her papa’s blessing,

He’d been only too glad to be gone from that situation and let Amy’s aunt deal with it.

Long-time friend, Lord Beckett, waved at him as he entered White’s. Graham wended through the clusters of club members, past the betting book, and several gentlemen conversing heatedly about some measure in Parliament.

He collapsed into the comfortable chair across from Beckett.

“You’re looking a bit displeased this evening.” Beckett took a sip of brandy from the glass in his hand.

Graham waved at the footman to bring him a drink. “I’m afraid I’ve put myself into a difficult situation that will take some acumen on my part to fix.” He accepted the glass from the footman and took a sip.

“A woman?”

He sighed. “What else?”

Both men pondered the state of relations between men and women for a bit. Then Beckett spoke. “What the devil have you got yourself into, anyway?”

“I was very close to offering for Lady Juliet last Season when I was unexpectedly called out of town. I sent her a note, and then a couple of letters, but it seems she hadn’t received all the correspondence, or chose to ignore it. When I returned this Season, she made it perfectly clear she is finished with me.” He shook his head. He sounded so pathetic he wouldn’t be surprised if Beckett burst out with laughter.

“Somewhat of a pickle, eh?” Instead of laughing, he chose to take him seriously.

“My main problem is trying to spend time with her. Luckily, her sister, Lady Marigold invited me to join the family at the theater tonight. From the look on Lady Juliet’s face, she was not too happy about that. But I did go, and she managed to outflank me.” He grinned. “Smart girl. I was forced to admire her.

“There are many events every evening, and I have no way of knowing where she will be.”

Beckett leaned forward, dangling his glass between his knees. “You know, since I have no intention of ever succumbing to the parson’s noose myself, I am more than happy to see others become besotted. M’sister, Hester, is friendly with Lady Juliet. She will undoubtedly know what events she is attending. I believe they try to meet up at these things occasionally.”

“Ah. Just what I need. A spy in the enemy camp. Will she agree to a bit of espionage in the name of true love?”

“Ha! What woman does not want to see all of us lined up two-by-two like we’re headed up the gangway of Noah’s ark? If Hester thinks she can see another gentleman snagged, she would be thrilled.” He shook his head. “Strange creatures, women are.”

They pondered Beckett’s acumen for a moment, staring off into space. “I’ll have Hester write down the events she intends to visit with the Ladies Juliet and Marigold and send it ‘round with my man. You’ll have it before morning calls tomorrow.”

“Be sure to impress upon Lady Hester that she is to keep her subterfuge to herself. If Lady Juliet knows there is traitor among her circle of friends, she will outwit me again.”

***

The next morning, Graham studied the list of ton events for the next three weeks where Juliet was expected. The note had just arrived from Beckett and was more complete than he had hoped for. Among the various balls and soirees, Lady Hester had also included an accounting of to whom, and on what days, they generally made morning calls. Also catalogued were a dinner party, a garden party, and, best of all, a house party. He and Juliet under the same roof overnight brought interest to his quest and blood racing to his cock.

He checked the list against the pile of correspondence on his desk, and was pleased to see he had been invited to every event. With a quick scrawl, he accepted all the invitations, and sent them off with a messenger. Satisfied with his plan, he leaned back and smiled. The battle lines had been drawn. Today he would start his campaign in earnest.

Be aware, Lady Juliet. You are mine, and soon you will know it.

***

Juliet took a sip of her cooling tea in Miss Marshall’s drawing room and nodded at Lady Pentale’s running commentary on the latest gown she’d commissioned the top modiste in London to create for her. She went on and on about the color, the fabric, and how wonderful it would look on her. Juliet stifled a yawn, wondering how soon she and Marigold could make their escape.

“My lady, Lord Hertford,” the butler announced as he stepped aside to let Graham into the room. The cad’s eyes went immediately to her, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had expected to see her there.

Whatever did the man do? Travel up and down the streets of Mayfair until he’d spotted her carriage? Unfortunately, there were empty seats in the drawing room since several people had left, and one of them was right next to her. Without seeming obvious, she eased over and attempted to make it look as though the entire settee was in use.

Graham did not fall for it. He bowed to Miss Marshall to offer his felicitation, and after a few cursory comments, walked directly up to Juliet, bowed over her raised hand—drat her good manners—and with a smirk on his handsome face, eyed the seat where her gown was spread out. “May I join you, my lady?”

She swept her skirts aside. “Of course, Lord Hertford. How nice to see you.” She felt as though she choked on the words, bringing a grin to his face. He settled in alongside her and accepted a cup of tea from a footman.

With shaky hands, Juliet reached for her teacup, cursing herself for slopping the tea over the brim. Once again his nearness affected her in such a frightening way. Her heart pounded, and her breathing sped up. She was finished with him, but her body did not get the message.

“Are you nervous, my lady?” Graham was all solicitations, his demeanor serious, while his eyes sparkled with hilarity. Oh, for a mere shilling she would dump the tea in his lap. The hotter, the better.

“Not at all, sir. I am merely clumsy today.” Well, then. That was even worse than admitting she was nervous. She hated how the man’s mere presence disturbed her.

She’d decided months ago to dismiss Lord Graham Hertford and move on to other considerations. She knew, of course, that when she did marry—whenever that would be, and certainly not to Graham—she would need to explain her lapse in judgment to her would-be betrothed before they made it final, in the event he did not wish to marry a woman no longer a virgin.

No doubt some men would withdraw their offer in that case, but there was nothing to be done for it. Since she never planned to fall in love again, one man as a husband would be as good as another. Providing he was of her class, not too old, reasonably attractive, and kind. She would enjoy a marriage of respect and fondness.

“I hope my presence is not what makes you clumsy.” Graham leaned in so his words were only for her ears.

She raised her chin, but kept her voice low. “Your presence affects me in no way at all, my lord. Please do not trouble yourself that you are the reason for any distress on my part.”

“Ah. Then what is the reason for your distress?”

“I am not distressed. I am very happy. Exceedingly joyful. In fact, I may burst into song at any moment.”

He grinned. “Please, do.”

“I may dance on the table with complete abandon, as well,” she shot back. Despite her words she knew her face looked anything but cheerful. Her muscles were tight, her words sharp, and across from them, Marigold looked at her curiously.

At her last words, Graham choked on his tea and placed his cup on its saucer as he coughed until he brought himself under control. She smiled at his difficulty and took another sip of tea, turning smoothly toward Mr. Hardwick in the chair to her left. “How is your mother, Mr. Hardwick?”

“She is not well, I am afraid, Lady Juliet. She suffers from a weak constitution. It is difficult for her to come and go, and spends a great deal of time having her companion bring her drinks and such, to ease her suffering.”

From what Juliet knew of Mrs. Hardwick, her only suffering she endured came from her daughter, who had gone against her wishes and married the man she loved—a solicitor—and not the titled gentleman her mother had chosen. Word was the woman was now on the prowl for the perfect wife for her son. How she would manage to do that chained to her house was a mystery.

“Please give her my regards,” Juliet offered.

Their twenty minutes were up, so she stood and shook out her skirts, catching Marigold’s eye. “Are you ready to depart, sister? I have a bit of shopping to do before we return home for tea.”

“Ah, Lady Juliet. How fortuitous. I am headed to Bond Street, myself, and would love to treat you and Lady Marigold to an ice at Gunter’s.”

Juliet was about to stamp her foot. Why did she give the man that opening? She never should have said they were headed to the shops. She sighed. With everyone watching, it would be beyond rude to refuse his escort. “How charming of you to take time from your busy day to bother yourself with two silly girls on a shopping adventure, my lord. I am sure there are much more important matters to which you must attend.”

Graham stood. “On the contrary. I find nothing more compelling than sharing an ice with you and your lovely sister.” With a bright smile, he extended his arm toward her. Despite wishing to smack him over the head with her reticule, she managed to dredge up the semblance of a smile and took his arm.

“How very sweet of you, my lord.” The words were bitter on her tongue as she swallowed them.

“As we arrived in a closed carriage, I am sure you realize that you cannot ride with us.”

“No worries, my dear. I rode my horse, and I will follow your carriage.”

She turned as their carriage rolled up. Graham walked with them, opened the door, assisted Marigold in first, then Juliet. His hand lingered on her elbow to the point where she had to tug it free, almost falling onto the seat. She glowered at him. He gave her a bow, and turned to mount his horse.

“Juliet, why are you so mean to Lord Hertford? I thought you liked him.”

She studied her sister, not sure how much to tell her. Certainly, not everything that had happened between them. Her face flamed at the memory. Ignoring her embarrassment, she smoothed her skirts out. “He just annoys me that is all.”

“But last Season you seemed quite enamored of him. Everyone seemed so interested in Elise and St. George that it passed notice, but I thought you favored him, and expected an offer.”

“La, why would you think that?” She shook her head, attempting a carefree demeanor, not sure she carried it off well, since her face still felt heated.

“You were almost rude to him last night, and then again this afternoon.” Marigold grabbed the strap hanging alongside her head as the carriage turned onto Bond Street.

“Nonsense. I was not rude. And since when are you the standard bearer for my behavior?”

Marigold shrugged, ignoring her sister’s tone. “I am not, and don’t pretend to be. I was merely making an observation.”

They both remained silent as the carriage moved in the heavy traffic. Juliet looked out the window and sucked in a breath when Graham rode by. His powerful thighs, straight back, broad shoulders and—she had to admit it—his muscular buttocks did strange things to her insides. Things she no longer wanted to feel, or think about.

The vehicle came to a stop, and the liveried footman stepped off the back and opened the door. Of course, Graham was right there, to assist her. Once she and Marigold had departed the carriage, Graham instructed her footman to see to his horse as well as the carriage.

She took his arm as they made their way to a small table outside the famous shop. He held out chairs for her and Marigold and then settled between them. Marigold seemed completely unaffected by Graham, which confused her. Why did she feel all these things when he was near her?

The soft breeze blew directly toward her the familiar scent of bergamot that always seemed to surround him. Her eyes teared at the memory of him holding her in his arms as they waltzed, and how safe and cared for she’d felt. Well, that was certainly a dream.

They placed their orders and chatted amiably. At least Graham and Marigold chatted. She found it hard to concentrate on anything with him so near. Chastising herself, she attempted to follow the conversation.

“So am I to understand that you do not believe in love at first sight?” Graham smiled indulgently at Marigold.

“No. I do not. It takes time for two people to learn about each other well enough to know if what they feel for each other is not merely a strong physical attraction.”

Graham burst out laughing, causing Marigold to blush, but her eyes snapped.

Juliet’s brows rose. “Marigold! Whatever have you been reading to say such a thing? If Papa heard you he would send you to your room to study the Bible.”

Her younger sister waved her hand around. “Nonsense. I am merely disputing the ‘love at first sight’ of Romeo and Juliet.”

“Ho! Now there’s an unusual thought from a woman. I thought all women were waiting for their own true love.”

“True love is built over time.” Marigold sniffed. “One does not stumble into it.”

Whenever had her sister developed these ideas? Juliet had been so engrossed in her own troubles that somewhere along the line Marigold had grown up. And learned things about men and women of which Papa would surely disapprove.

“Tell me, my lady,” Graham directed his comment to Juliet. “What are your beliefs on love?”

Juliet hesitated. “My thoughts on love are irrelevant, since I have learned one cannot trust love. Or perhaps I should say what one thought was love.”

Graham covered her hand with his, his face losing all trace of humor. “I’m sorry you have learned that. I would like the opportunity to change your mind.”

She cursed the tears that sprang to her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was let Graham know how much he’d hurt her. She never should have answered his question, because the pain and guilt she saw in his eyes started to chip away at the solid, strong wall she’d built around her heart.

“Is something wrong that I am missing?” Marigold accepted a tart from the footman who offered her a tray of delicious looking pastries.

Juliet and Graham broke contact, and Juliet gave a soft laugh. “No, of course not. I am just fine. Those pastries look wonderful. I think I will have an apple tart.” She tried very hard to hide the thickness in her voice.

Graham waved off the footman, and took a sip of his tea, his expression pensive.

Despite the tempting pastry sitting in front of her, Juliet found all she could manage was a sip of tea. Nothing else would get past the lump lodged in her throat.