Home Again

 

JULIET YAWNED AND OPENED her eyes. She sat in the coach, sandwiched between a large man who smelled like cheese and a frazzled woman travelling with four children—creatures, Juliet now suspected, that had been spawned in hell. Never had she seen a more unruly bunch. Through the coach window, she glimpsed the city of London spread over the horizon. At last. She was almost home.

There had been nothing else to do in the coach but think and, for the most part, she’d thought of little else but the Midnight Ball. She couldn’t forget the tingle of Carrick’s fingers as they’d trailed over her skin, a tantalizing touch she’d relived again and again the entire journey. Truth be told, she’d imagined much, much more, but with London only minutes away, she could no longer indulge in fantasies of those smoky gray eyes. More pressing matters awaited her. The most important being a mother to outwit before the woman again auctioned off her virginity.

Soon enough, the coach rolled over London’s cobblestoned streets and stopped at the King’s Head Inn. Juliet alighted into her mother’s waiting and welcoming arms.

“It’s so good to see you, love.” Her mother hugged her close before holding her at arm’s length. “You have lost weight.”

“I’m fine, Ma,” Juliet laughed, inspecting her mother in turn.

It had only been a year since they’d parted. Her mother looked very much the same as she always had, buxom and pleasing, with a pert nose, green eyes and red hair. Juliet with her dark locks and blue eyes had clearly taken after her father—whoever that might have been. Even her mother wasn’t sure. They interrupted their greetings and stepped aside as an arrogant lady swept past, her maid in tow.

“Hoity-toity.” Her mother rolled her eyes as the young woman swept out of sight. “I’d pity the man wed to that poor soul—if I didn’t know he’d turn up at my door as a good-paying customer.” She laughed.

Juliet offered a wry smile as one of her mother’s hired men shoved her trunk onto the bed of a cart.

“Take the cart on up to the house,” her mother ordered the man. “Juliet and I will walk. We must chat.”

Chat? Juliet thinned her lips. “Ma, must we talk business so soon?”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed into shrewd, calculating slits. “It’s always time to talk business, Juliet. Especially now. I moved the ball up a week. It’s tonight. I feared you wouldn’t make it in time.”

“Tonight?” Juliet repeated in dismay. She was sore, stiff, and tired from the journey, and she desperately needed a bath.

“You have a few hours, yet,” her mother assured with a smile and a fond pat on the cheek. “You’re young. You’ll feel spry enough in no time. I set up your card table in the sitting room and you mustn’t forget to wear your mask.”

Cards. That was a relief. At least her mother hadn’t auctioned her off—yet. “Well, as long as it’s just playing cards, Ma,” she gave in, but, unable to resist, added, “But we really need to talk about my career. Much has transpired since—”

“Come, come, we’ll chat later,” her mother interrupted with a smile.

The smile made Juliet stop in her tracks. Her mother invariably responded to all dressmaking overtures with theatrics—certainly never with a kindly, ‘we’ll chat later.’

“What have you done?” Juliet demanded.

“What have I done?” Her mother snorted, looped her arm through Juliet’s, and pulled her down the street. “I’ve simply welcomed my daughter home. That’s all. Now don’t spare the bath oils, and wear your finest. We have a ball tonight: Lady Aphrodite’s Night of Wonders.”

The last thing Juliet wanted was to attend another ball, but at least she had one consolation. This time, she didn’t have to deal with the disconcerting Duke of Hamilton. With a long, loud sigh, she followed her mother, wondering why that thought didn’t conjure as much relief as it should.

* * *

Juliet gathered her silvery, gossamer silk skirts in one hand and proceeded out her room and down the stairs. Cut in the French fashion of forty years before, the voluminous skirts floated around her ankles, preventing her from seeing where she stepped. She nearly missed the bottom riser before she reached the floor and entered the crowded ballroom.

“Careful now,” her mother called as she arrived.

Lady Aphrodite’s Night of Wonders was well underway. Swirls of colorful silk and glittering glass jewelry met Juliet’s eyes everywhere she looked as Lady Aphrodite’s girls, their assets on full display, mingled with the clientele.

Brenda swooped over, grabbed Juliet’s arm, and pointed toward the sitting room. “Your card table is ready.” She giggled and dropped her gaze to Juliet’s bosom. “But you’re clearly not, love. Pull that gown lower and show more flesh.” Brenda yanked Juliet’s bodice. The edge of the fabric slid dangerously low over her nipples. “There.” The girl nodded in satisfaction as Juliet fitted her mask over her face. “Your first customers have arrived.” She escorted Juliet to the sitting room and urged her inside.

Juliet heaved a sigh. She really wasn’t in the mood to play cards with a gaggle of pawing men. She glanced around the sitting room. Someone had decorated the mantle and tables with elaborate ivy and thistle garlands, elegantly tied in gold ribbon. Cheap, imitation Grecian pedestals bearing baskets of fruit and cheese lined the walls. A fire crackled in the grate behind a card table draped in white velvet. A man already lounged there, and several more waited nearby. Juliet scarcely gave them notice as she woodenly approached her chair and, after fluffing her cushion, took her seat with an unceremonious plop.

“A game of commerce for the gentleman?” she asked. She glanced up—and froze.

Carrick Hamilton’s smoldering gray eyes stared back at her.