Why did that cause her heartbeat to race and steal her breath?
“Thank you,” the duke said. “I am elated to be home with all of you.” He bowed again. “And to commemorate my historic return to our beloved London, please accept this token of my appreciation.” He raised the gilded mask he had worn and pretended to toss it into the crowd.
There was a collective squeal of excitement, mostly from the females, though Julia was sure she heard masculine sounds mixed in with the noise.
The duke laughed and, this time, threw the mask. Much to her dismay, he had tossed it so vigorously, it was headed for her head. Without thinking, she snatched it from the air.
Lady Mara gasped at her athleticism. “If it had been me, I would be sprawled out on the floor!”
Feeling her cheeks flush, Julia hid the unique memento behind her back, only to find herself the center of attention from everyone seated around her.
“I say,” a nearby lord said, “what a fine catch.”
“Lucky woman,” a young woman commented.
As if summoned, Willa came to her side. “Well, the duke appears to be genuine after all,” she whispered near her ear.
Yes.A duke and a rake all mixed into the perfect shell of a man. Though that shell had all the right adornments to capture her attention—and to make her shiver with, well, something she had never experienced before—lust?
“Lady Mara,” Julia took the opportunity to change the subject. “This is Lady Willa Bradbury, the daughter of the late Earl of Hemley.”
Willa curtsied and smiled brilliantly at the older woman.
Lady Mara clearly admired Willa and took her hand. “Enough with the formality, my dear. Any friend of Lady Julia’s is a friend of mine. Do you not agree?”
“Of course,” her friend agreed politely.
Willa had again won the heart of another member of theton, even if she and her mother had fallen from grace by keeping shop to support themselves. It would have been better for them to live in obscurity in the country than to buck tradition and live as commoners. But Julia did not care a whit about tradition or the unfair expectations of theton. She believed in live and let live, as did the small circle of intellectuals she spent most of her time with. So if anyone shunned her dearest friend, she would do the same to them.
Refreshments were about to be served, and Julia could do with a glass of champagne. As the women were about to make their way across the drawing room, a velvety baritone bid her stop.
“Lady Julia, do not run off yet.”
The command came from behind her, but Lady Mara was looking in the opposite direction, facing the Duke of Pridegate. Her reaction was predictable, for her face lit up like a lamp, her cheeks blooming with color.
“Your Grace,” she said, giving a half curtsey.
“Lady Mara,” Alonzo said, taking her hand and kissing it. “I was not aware you were acquainted with Lady Julia or Lady Willa.”
How did he know Willa’s name? Had he inquired after her and her friend? Perhaps her family? Reluctant to heap any more attention upon him, lest it break his already burdened back, Julia had no choice but to face him. She of course gave him the respect his title deserved, curtseying in reverence. “Your Grace,” she said.
“Did you enjoy the performance?” he asked, a little too enthusiastically.
“I believe the harpist showed great talent, sir.”
“The harpist?” he asked as if he had not heard her clearly.
“Yes, of course.”
“Mr. Gray is a reliable man and has a good ear for music,” he said.
“Let us not forget the pianist,” she added, looking to Willa for support.
“Lady Julia?” Willa asked. “Are you quite well?”
Unsure how to respond, Julia simply nodded. “I am fine.” But once she gazed at the duke again, finding his manner overly flirtatious and his arrogance on full display, perhaps her stomach did suddenly feel funny. “I am parched.”
Lady Mara placed her hand on her arm. “Stay here and enjoy His Grace’s company while Lady Bradbury and I go for ratafia and perhaps some cake?”
