Disliking the depressing tone of their conversation, Florian decided to make a deliberate effort to change it by attempting to get to know her better. “So aside from your keen attention to medicine these days, what other pursuits hold your interest?”
She folded her hands in her lap and turned to face him more fully. “I have always loved reading. Growing up, books were often my only companions. And with Raphe constantly exchanging them, there were always new ones available. It forced us to read things we never would have considered otherwise, like a discourse on Mediterranean fishing.” Her expression grew pensive and she bit her lip before shaking her head and saying, “I suppose it will prove useful if I ever move to Spain.”
For the second time that evening, Florian realized he was smiling, not out of politeness, but because of genuine amusement. Her effect on him at this point went beyond the carnal. She made him long for the sort of happiness he’d thought was out of his grasp. And he realized he might be able to have it as long as he kept her by his side, which was something of an astounding revelation, one which he would not spend too much time considering at present.
So he pushed the uneasy thought aside and asked, “And of these books, which were your favorites?”
A secretive grin made her eyes light up as if brought aglow by a thousand candles. “Andrew Marvell’sMiscellaneous Poems.”
Florian’s heart stopped, or so it felt. Logic of course denied such a possibility since he knew he was still alive. “Really?” How much more could they possibly have in common?
“I simply adoreTo His Coy Mistress. Have you perchance read it?”
If someone had told him two weeks ago that he would discover he had more in common with Lady Juliette than with anyone else in the world, he would have called that person a fool. And yet, she studied people with his own sharp-eyed calculation, sought knowledge with unforgiving tenacity, fought tooth and nail for what she believed in and apparently had a penchant for Andrew Marvell. Who would have thought?
Unable to resist, he recited from memory. “‘Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, Lady, were no crime.’” His words were hushed beneath the musical sound of the piano, so low they would be lost to everyone else save Lady Juliette.
“‘We would sit down and think which way,’” she continued, “‘to walk and pass our long love’s day.’” Pausing there, she met his gaze and bashfully pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Florian struggled to breathe. It felt as though she’d spoken directly to him instead of merely reciting the words he knew so well. Needing to quell the momentary awkwardness and save her the embarrassment he sensed she was feeling, he said, “It is a beautiful poem filled with vivid imagery and perfect metaphors. I have held a particular fondness for it since the moment I read it during my first year at Eton. In general, I prefer poetry to prose because of the talent it takes to convey a precise thought, concept or emotion within the confines of a predetermined structure. It is more difficult, I think, than writing a novel. At any rate I am rubbish at it myself.”
She grinned. “So you have attempted it?”
He shrugged, not entirely eager to discuss his poetic failings. “I dabbled in my youth but it quickly occurred to me that I was better off concentrating on other pursuits and leaving the poetry to the poets.”
“That has been my experience with watercolors.” She produced a self-aware smile. “I enjoy it because there is something soothing about the experience of painting itself, but I cannot profess to have any talent.”
“Then paint for the joy of it alone and forget the rest. It does not matter how good you are at painting when you have found another vocation at which you excel.”
Lips parted on a stunned intake of breath, she stared at him with bewildered consternation. “You flatter me, sir.”
“I speak the truth. Nothing more.”
Pleasure softened her features while the dimmed light from the oil lamp between them brought a lovely glow to her cheeks. If she were captured on canvas right now the result would be reminiscent of an Adam de Coster painting. Regrettably, only his mind’s eye would preserve her present appearance and not as eternally as she deserved.
She angled her head with a twitch of her lips, the motion animating her expression and destroying the mental painting. “You look trapped in thought,” she told him gently.
An interesting description of his current state of mind.
With a shake of his head he leaned back while glancing sideways in her direction. “I almost did not come this evening. There is much for me to attend to at present, and dining out with friends seemed like an unnecessary distraction.”
“More so than attending balls?”
He winced. “Social events can result in additional sponsors. I never attend them for my amusement.”
“So why make an exception this evening?”
She’d stopped looking at him again, her entire focus on her family across the room, and he wondered how honest he ought to be, how much of himself he dared reveal. To say he was there because of her would probably make her wonder about his intentions. And rightfully so. But with no desire to start a courtship and no plan to marry, he shouldn’t encourage her to do so. Which prompted him to say, “Caution has always guided me, my lady. I worry the truth might set things in motion that are better off left alone.”
“I see.”
Did she? He could not tell. “The hour grows late.” It was time for him to add some distance between them. As it was, he’d already said too much, expressed too many emotions, allowed himself to touch her. Rising, he bowed low before her, then strode over to thank his hosts for a wonderful evening. His only regret as he went was looking back at Lady Juliette, who was watching his departure as if his impending absence would cause her personal pain.
He’d been charming. Wonderfully so. And he’d laughed, if only a very tiny bit. But the action had given her hope and instilled in her a warmth that lingered long after he was gone. Accompanying Raphe and Gabriella home in the Huntley carriage, Juliette settled back against the squabs and allowed their conversation to play back in her mind. A smile touched her lips when she thought of his compliments, and heat warmed her cheeks as she recalled the poem they’d recited. Parts of it were rather daring, like the mention of breasts and lust and the suggestion that it was best to give in to desire before time ran out. So she was glad he hadn’t continued where she had left off since that would most likely have caused her entire face to catch fire.
“You spoke at great length with Florian this evening.” Raphe’s remark scattered Juliette’s thoughts and brought her back to the present with a jolt.
“I enjoy his company.”
