Amanda sat and clasped her hands in her lap, suddenly looking nervous. She blew out a breath. "All right. What's the plan?"
Picturing her sisters with their ears to the door—after all, she'd often done so along with them—Juliana lowered her voice. "We shall arrange to get you compromised by—and therefore betrothed to—a man closer to your age than Lord Malmsey. Once the public has seen you and this other man in a compromising position, your father will be forced to agree."
"A compromising position?" Amanda's sudden laugh was shrill enough to make Juliana wince. "Gracious me, I've never even been kissed!"
"I haven't been kissed, either," Juliana said. "Not that men haven't tried, mind you." To the contrary, men tried all the time. But she always managed to duck them, because as much as she wanted to experience her first kiss, she wished for it to be with someone she cared for, at least a little.
"Well, no one's tried with me," Amanda said dourly. "And it will take more than a kiss to force my father's hand. There's not a chance a young, eligible man is going to compromise me. Not willingly, anyway."
"I didn't mean unwillingly." Juliana would never be party to such a devious plot, and furthermore, such a thing wouldn't be necessary. When she was finished with Amanda, men would be falling over themselves trying to compromise her. "Not to worry, my dear." She leaned closer to pat her hand. "Are you free tomorrow and the day after?"
"To be compromised?"
"To be fitted for a few ball gowns. You'll require a new wardrobe, among other things. We'll need to visit a seamstress as well as comb all the shops."
Amanda appeared both dubious and hopeful, if such an expression were possible. "My father did give me leave to assemble a trousseau."
"Excellent." There was little Juliana enjoyed more than transforming an ugly duckling into a lovely swan. "We have a lot of work to do before Lady Hammersmithe's ball on Saturday."
"I cannot attend Lady Hammersmithe's ball."
"Of course you can. I shall summon Madame Bellefleur to trim your hair—"
"My hair has never been cut." Amanda's hands went protectively to her head. "And I cannot attend—"
"Ouuuccch!" The howl was so piercing, it shot from the drawing room, across the foyer, and through the library's closed door.
"That's Emily!" Juliana exclaimed, bolting from her chair. Lifting her skirts, she dashed out the door. "Emily!" she shouted, running through the foyer and bursting into the drawing room. "Emily, what's happened?"
And there she stopped, a sudden sickness in her middle, a disturbing lightness in her head.
Emily was bleeding.
"It hurts," the girl wailed, bent over her hand. Tiny red spots dotted her pink skirts. Although the injury clearly wasn't serious—they were tiny spots, not a stream—Juliana knew she should hurry to help. To comfort. To make everything all better.
But she couldn't. Because the sight of those red spots seemed to make it hard to breathe.
Thank goodness everyone else was helping. Well, maybe not helping, precisely, but at least they weren't riveted in place. In the scant seconds Juliana stood there—because that's all the time it was, really—her sisters and Aunt Frances leapt up and surrounded Emily, making all sorts of clucking, compassionate noises.
Thankfully, that hid the sight of Emily's wound. But all that sympathy seemed to do little but make the girl sob harder. "M-my needle s-slipped. It-it didn't just poke me this time, it ripped—"
"Gracious me," Amanda said in a rather disgusted tone, pushing past Juliana and into the little cluster of females. "It's just a little blood. For goodness' sake. Someone take the snake." While Corinna moved to do so, Amanda reached for some linsey and tore off a strip, then drew Emily to her feet. "Let's clean it up and bandage it, shall we?" she said, leading her from the room.
Juliana walked to her chair, her knees feeling shaky. Which was ridiculous, and she knew it. As Corinna seemed to delight in pointing out to her, it was absurd for any female past puberty to find the sight of blood distressing. But her own monthlies never bothered her. A woman's periodic blood was natural; other bleeding wasn't.
She was grateful Corinna hadn't seemed to notice her abysmal lack of action, and neither had anyone else.
"Emily will be fine." Corinna held Herman at arm's length, looking almost as ridiculous as Juliana felt. "Why didn't you bring Amanda straight in here?"
"I wanted to talk to her regarding Lady Hammersmithe's ball on Saturday. Talk her into attending, I mean."
"Why wouldn't she?" Alexandra asked.
Juliana shrugged—casually, she hoped. "She's rather shy around eligible gentlemen. I've offered to help her with a new wardrobe, which I'm hoping will boost her confidence."
"That's kind of you," Alexandra said.
Corinna looked suspicious. Or maybe just wary of the snake. "Whyever did you feel the need to talk privately? We could have helped you convince her—"
"Here she is, all repaired," Amanda announced, walking back in with Emily.
Emily sported a neat little linsey bandage wrapped around her finger. When she reached for Herman, Corinna didn't hesitate to hand him over. Juliana's sister still looked wary, though. Or suspicious.
Drat.
"Shall we get back to work?" Juliana asked cheerfully.
Emily shook her head. "I'm not sewing anymore."
"You can start cutting the clouts," Juliana suggested, handing her a bundle of cotton fabric, a pair of scissors, and a simple pattern. She hoped that when the cut rectangles were folded and sewn, they would turn out the right size to cover a baby's bottom. Refusing to even think about doing that a hundred times, she gave Emily's half-finished blanket to Amanda. "Here. This is almost done."
It wasn't, of course, and Amanda proved to be no handier with a needle than the rest of them. Not only was Juliana going to have to host more sewing parties, she was also
