For one glorious Season she was one of the finest debutantes there was. The St. John ladies had taken society by storm, securing two of the most eligible gentlemen of the ton right under their upturned noses. Her beloved cousin captured the heart of the notorious Bachelor Duke. No longer did they whisper behind her back. Instead, those same vultures vied for her attention, wishing she would grace them with a simple glance.
Then it was Julia’s turn to marry the always jovial Marquess of Heartford. Henry’s blond curls and boyish good looks had been the subject of many a ballroom. She was his after their first dance, declared her love after their first stroll through Hyde Park, and received her first stolen kiss in her aunt and uncle’s parlor. She loved him greatly. Then his sister’s townhome had caught fire, vaporizing all of her hopes and dreams with it.
Julia’s shoulder was hurriedly bumped, the movement changing the trajectory of her thoughts. She turned to find Pippa Price’s bright hazel eyes on her.
“What?” Julia shifted closer to Pippa, on the settee where they sat against the wall of the Summerset’s ballroom.
“Really, Julia. Are you not paying any attention at all?” Pippa raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Julia was sure her friend’s aunt had to hold the bluestocking down in order to prepare her for the Duke and Duchess of Summerset’s ball. She knew her friend would much prefer to stay at home playing with her chemicals instead of dancing.
“I’m paying attention. I was just woolgathering. It’s the only way I can deal with the stares and whispers,” Julia spat out. Lady Florentia Vaughn stood with one of her many followers across the crowded room, staring at her and Pippa like they were animals on display in an exhibit.
Florentia had come out last Season and had an instant dislike for both Pippa and Julia. Unfortunately for the vile woman, Julia loved to fight and Pippa was an expert at ignoring people. A fact Florentia learned the hard way.
“Yes, well, some people are rather asinine.” Pippa tilted her head to indicate where the Duchess of Karrington stood chattering with a group of older women. “I was saying that your cousin is speaking to the Countess of Jerzy.” Her voice was breathy, causing Julia to pay closer attention to the woman conversing with Livie.
A rare smile spread across Julia’s lips at the sight of her beloved cousin in the center of the small circle of prominent members of society. One gentle woman seemed to outshine them all as she spoke.
Julia searched her mind, trying to recall where she knew the name. Old Julia would know. She could recall everything there was to know about this countess, but now, she was New Julia, and New Julia didn’t remember at all.
“Really, Julia?” Pippa gave her friend a sideways glance of disbelief, her voice mocking. “Even I know who she is, and I spend most of my time in my laboratory.”
Julia fought the urge to tell her friend that what she referred to as a laboratory was only a small, abandoned shed in her aunt’s garden on Arlington Street, but she remained silent. Julia had only three friends, five if she counted her aunt, the Countess of Hempstead, and Mother Di, the stepmother of Livie’s husband. Being a lady of two and twenty, she had to admit that counting the two older ladies would be slightly pathetic on her part. However, she had to admit they were great fun to be around, especially with the amount of sherry they drank.
Julia slouched back in her seat, letting her head lazily fall against the wall. Whispered voices increased at her behavior, but she ignored them. She no longer cared for propriety and decorum, to hell with the lot of them. “Then please enlighten me, oh great doctor of chemistry.”
Miss Pippa Price loved all things chemistry. One could always find her tinkering away in her laboratory or reading a book on science. Society had never held much interest.
“Lady Jerzy is one of the esteemed patronesses of Almack’s, and she is speaking to your cousin,” Pippa announced gallantly, triggering a piece of long-buried information.
“Yes! I remember.” Julia bolted upright, glad that she could recall some of the useless information she had spent months learning about anyone who was anyone in society. Perhaps Old Julia did exist after all. “I do recall the name, and of course, everyone has heard of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, but it is impossibly hard to get into Almack’s, even for a well-connected duchess like Livie.”
“It seems that is changing, which could only mean extraordinary things for you.”
Julia jerked back as if struck. “Me? How could it possibly have an effect on me?”
Pippa turned those crisp hazel eyes to her. “Can’t you comprehend this will open up doors for you in society. Doors that were previously closed because of your…past.”
Julia looked down at her gloved hands, wishing that all of society could see the charcoal under her fingernails, evidence that she finally had something that belonged only to her. Something that they couldn’t take away. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretty up your words to spare my feelings. You can say it. Doors that were previously closed because I was carelessly abandoned eight days before my wedding.” She rushed the sentence out, shaking her head from side to side. She took a deep calming breath, happy that after all this time, tears no longer prickled at the memory of waking up to a three sentence note from Henry. “I no longer care about society,” she whispered.
“Of course, you do, little bird. We all care in some way.” Julia turned toward the deep voice of the Duke of St. Clara, who now stood over her.
She had always loved the nickname he had given her at their first meeting. He said she reminded him of a caged bird wanting to go free. Julia didn’t know if she liked the analogy or not, but she did find the term of endearment rather comforting. St. Clara only gave names to a select few people, mostly those he liked.
St. Clara stood broad and tall, his deep chocolate eyes assessing her and then Pippa. They lingered on the bluestocking a moment longer than appropriate. He was an exceptionally good-looking man with a long aristocratic nose, a square jaw, and chiseled cheekbones. A dark forelock hung unfashionably over his right brow, dancing precariously close to his eye. Practically every woman in the room eyed him as if he were a rather tasty dessert. Every woman that is except Pippa, who purposely ignored him.
“I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be friends with you,” Julia reminded him lightly as he took the empty chair beside her.
His familiar chuckle reminded her of the friendship they’d formed over the last two years. He was a comfort to her when she was unable to find it in anyone other than her family. The first Season after Henry left was filled with cruel whispers and even crueler acts. St. Clara had saved her from one in particular.
It would’ve been the sort of thing romance would’ve blossomed from, if they were not utterly impartial to each other. In truth, Julia had never thought of St. Clara as anything other than a brother, which was rather ironic since both Henry and St. Clara were both half-brothers of the late Lady Amelia Evers.
Despite his thin connection to the man who jilted her, she and St. Clara had become allies. He was the monster who had not acknowledged his late sister, and she was the lady who was abandoned at the altar.
“I wouldn’t really call us friends. I’ve tolerated your company these past two Seasons,” he teased her before bending forward to look at Pippa who found the tapestry beside her quite fascinating.
“Ignoring me today, kitten?” St. Clara asked Pippa, his voice deep and sensual. It was odd that Pippa had one of his famous nicknames since the two of them could hardly stand each other. Not for the first time Julia wondered what the story was between her two friends.
