“Most assuredly not. I feigned a headache so you would not be exposed to the very women you often denounce when we are in private. Besides, I did not like the way Lady Amelia was staring at you once she learned the Duke of Pridegate has taken a personal interest in you. Anyone with half a brain could see it.”
“Oh, dear,” Julia said, pacing nervously. “That is the last thing I wished. We have only been here a day, and already we are providing the sort of scandal the gossipmongers thrive on.”
“No, nothing as untoward as that. It’s just… the two of you have an undeniable attraction—something to be envied. And that American, Mr. Garland, seems to have taken a quick interest in you, too.”
Julia shook her head. “Nonsense. He’s an inexperienced traveler who wishes to know anything of import about our country, nothing more.”
“Julia.”
“Yes?”
Julia tried to rally her confidence, to find a way to convincingly explain away the feelings she had for the duke. He lived a life of utter debauchery, indulgent and arrogant, unrepentant and privileged. But so handsome and kind—there was much more to him—layers of complicated feelings and traditions he followed. The most important thing, though, he silently gave to charities, helping those most in need, which made him irresistible to her.
“Tell me again what he said to you in the gardens,” Willa whispered romantically.
“Which part?”
“Theanythingpart…”
She rolled her eyes at her best friend’s amorous notions. “He said I need only ask, that he would give me anything I wanted.”
“I think the duke is in very grave danger.”
Julia threw herself on the palatial bed—the mattress thicker than anything she had ever slept on before. “Of what sort?”
“Do you really not know?” Willa sat next to her and turned so she could look Julia in the eyes.
“Maybe I prefer not knowing at all.”
“What way is that to go along in life? Not knowing what you should.”
“Is it not better for a man to be blissfully ignorant of his fate?”
Willa crossed her arms over her chest. “You are a woman.”
“Who wishes with all her heart that she had been born a son to her father.”
Willa cradled her hand affectionately. “But you weren’t, so you must make the best of it. Hope for a match with the Duke of Pridegate.”
Julia held her breath and looked away. Could she allow herself to marry such a man? Oh, bedding him would be easy enough—he had everything necessary to recommend himself for bed sport. Those eyes—his full lips, his thick, curly hair, broad shoulders, the smirk he regularly wore… She felt so powerless next to him sometimes, intimidated by his superior height and enigmatic character. Would he woo her with songs? She smiled at that thought.
“What is it?” Willa asked.
“Some thoughts are better left unshared, Willa.” Her cheeks heated.
“Ah! You are imagining what it would be like to become his wife ineveryway, aren’t you?”
“Willa! You are incorrigible, a wanton, I think.”
Just as Willa giggled like a girl, someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Julia said, standing.
Willa’s mother opened the door and stepped inside the chamber. “I can see my daughter’s headache has gone.”
“Mama, I only needed a moment away from the rush of guests. It has been so long since I, we, have been invited to this sort of gathering.”
The dowager countess nodded sympathetically as she closed the door and sat in one of the chairs near the hearth. “I understand, my dear.” She gazed at Julia. “We are here for two important reasons. The first, to find you a suitable husband. I promised your father…”
