Which made him like her even more.
"Lady Amanda isn't afraid of blood," she informed him. "I should think you'd be pleased to know that, since I expect it's an important attribute for a physician's wife."
"I don't think that really matters," he told her. An affinity for blood wasn't on his list of wifely requirements. Not that he was looking for a wife, anyway. He tightened his grip on Juliana's arm, smiling to himself when she leaned closer to him. Even though it was cold and rainy outside, she seemed to smell of sunshine and flowers.
"I think Lady Amanda would like a fan," she said, guiding him past the glazed mahogany partition that separated the fur and fan departments.
He didn't want to buy Lady Amanda a fan, but he didn't want to disappoint Juliana, either. And he especially didn't want her to give up on their "lessons," because then she'd have more time to spend with stuffy Castleton, who was entirely the wrong man for her. So he bought a fan.
"I think Lady Amanda would like gloves," she said next. And although he didn't want to buy gloves for Lady Amanda—although he didn't want to buy anything for Lady Amanda—he dutifully paid for the lacy pair she picked out.
She thought Lady Amanda would like perfume, so they stopped by the perfumery department. She thought Lady Amanda would like candy, so they visited the confectioners. In no time at all, he was burdened with bags and boxes.
He'd always hated shopping—and he knew very well he'd had a horrible attitude from the beginning—but all in all, Emily and her snake aside, this day wasn't turning out nearly as badly as he'd anticipated. He rather enjoyed being gallant and saving Juliana from stuffy Castleton.
Seeing that man at her house earlier had made him grit his teeth.
They were buying some fancy writing paper when Lady Frances and Emily sought them out. "Lady Juliana," Emily said, "you are taking forever."
Looking startled, Juliana turned from the stationery counter. And the next thing she did was immediately move to put herself between Emily and James. He could have kissed her for that.
Not that he'd actually kiss her, of course—that would be highly improper.
But he wanted to…and that was scary as hell.
More frightening than Emily's snake.
He wasn't ready for this. He didn't think he'd ever be ready. He might be getting used to the idea of remarrying someday, but only to make his mother happy. And because he needed an heir.
Not because he wanted to kiss someone. And certainly not because he'd fallen in love.
Juliana looked between him and Herman. "Goodness, Emily," she said, "you're right. We have taken forever. In fact, we've taken so long that Lord Stafford is going to be late for Parliament. We'll have to take a hackney coach home so he can go there straightaway."
James might have been a coward, but he wasn't a fool. He knew she'd said that to save him from riding with Herman in his carriage.
He could have kissed her for that, too.
SIXTEEN
ALMOND MACAROONS
Beat Whites of Eggs with salt until stiff, then add Almonds ground fine, Sugar and a bit of ground Rice. Put in little mounds and make flat on Paper, then add an Almond in each middle before baking in your oven.
When I wish to see my husband amorous, I feed him these macaroons. They've never failed me yet.
—Katherine, Countess of Greystone, 1763
JULIANA PLACED little mounds of dough on a paper-lined baking tin, spacing them carefully while she hid a yawn. She'd been up since dawn. After spending the morning with Emily—who still refused to relinquish Herman—now she was making almond macaroons with Amanda.
According to Chase family legend, the macaroons were supposed to make men amorous. Juliana planned to give some to James and tell him to eat them tomorrow, hoping they would induce him to act warmly toward Amanda at Lady Partridge's ball later that evening. Since she wasn't certain whether the macaroons needed to be made by the woman seeking attention—her grandmother, who'd penned the recipe, hadn't been clear—she'd decided to ask for Amanda's help just in case.
"Put an almond in the center of each macaroon," she said through another yawn.
"That's the third time you've yawned," Amanda observed, plopping the nuts on top rather haphazardly. "Are you sleepy?"
Juliana's fourth yawn seemed to echo off the basement kitchen's walls. "This week has been exhausting."
She'd been very busy since Monday's visit to the Institute and Tuesday's jaunt to the shops. Not only had she hosted another sewing party and spent every free minute stitching, but the duke had called on her every single day and danced with her twice at Almack's on Wednesday evening. He said the nicest things to her. His attentiveness was encouraging, and she was certain it was only a matter of time before he asked for her hand. A perfect gentleman, he remained careful not to touch her, demonstrating the respect due a lady.
James, on the other hand, touched her so often she was beginning to think the incidents might not all be accidental.
On Wednesday afternoon, when she and James had taken advantage of a few glorious dry hours to go riding in Hyde Park, he'd found excuses to help her on and off her horse on six different occasions—to buy refreshments from a stand, to look at some flowers, to take a stroll by the Serpentine—and his hands had seemed to rest on her waist longer and longer each time.
James had missed attending Almack's again Wednesday night—apparently he'd had another problem at the Institute—but Thursday evening, when they'd attended the theater, he'd set his chair so close to hers in the box that his thigh was against her skirts during much of the performance. In the intermission, he'd brought her a syllabub and then claimed twice that she had white cream on her face and wiped it off with his thumb.
"Did I tell you I
