Not that he minded that. To the contrary. But as he finished the third macaroon, he glanced across to Lady Frances, thinking she might object to her charge sitting all but on his lap. Fortunately, Lady Frances seemed to be off in another world. Behind her spectacles, her blue gaze looked dazed.
Once again, although it was a rainy, gray day, Juliana smelled like sunshine. And flowers. So good and sweet it took everything he had not to sneak his arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. Which he would never do. At least not with Juliana's chaperone watching, even if her eyes were unfocused.
Maybe Lady Frances would fall asleep. It seemed unlikely, but a man could hope.
For he did want to pull Juliana closer. Ever since that day in Harding, Howell & Company when he'd realized he wanted to kiss her, he'd thought of little else. Although the very idea had seemed appalling at first, it didn't any longer, because in the interim—during the hours he'd spent riding with her and accompanying her to the theater—he'd come to realize something else: He was no longer going on these outings to prevent her from wasting her time with Castleton.
Not that he wanted her to spend time with Castleton. Seeing the flowers the man had sent her had made him grit his teeth, because he knew for a fact that the prig was only courting her for a damned horse. He wished he'd told Juliana as much in the beginning, but news like that could deal a serious blow to a woman's self-regard, and he hadn't wanted to hurt her. He wanted even less to hurt her now. But the man wasn't only a prig—he was an ass.
Yet the fact remained that James was no longer going on these outings to save her from the ass—or at least not only to save her from the ass. He enjoyed being with her. She was bright and enthusiastic, and she cared about other people. She'd cared about him when he'd feared a stupid snake. And, all right, she was attractive. Very attractive. Excessively, utterly attractive. Any man with eyes in his head would be hard put to argue with that. Especially considering she always seemed to wear dresses with tiny bodices.
All of which added up to a simple truth: He desired Juliana Chase.
It had been a long time since James had felt desire. It made him feel more alive, like something in him that had lain dormant for two years was beginning to wake up. And the way he saw it, there was little he could do about it.
He didn't love Juliana—he didn't want to love her or anyone else. But love and desire were two very different and distinct emotions. And simply desiring another woman wasn't a betrayal of Anne. He was a man, after all, and everyone knew a man had little control over his desires. Surely he could kiss Juliana even though he wasn't in love.
Was all of that rationalization? Possibly, he acknowledged with a yawn. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Juliana had baked him macaroons, and that meant he was one step closer to kissing her.
Life wasn't too bad right at the moment.
She followed his yawn with one of her own and tried to cover it with a hand.
"I saw that," he said.
"I'm not bored, I promise."
"I didn't think so," he assured her. "It's a medical fact that yawns are contagious."
She smiled, making him smile, too. He appreciated a woman who appreciated his admittedly weak attempts at humor.
"Are you as short on sleep as I?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I am. I was up half the night finishing the speech I plan to deliver this evening in the House of Lords."
"A speech?" She looked impressed, which he found much more encouraging than he probably ought. "What does it concern?"
"A bill I've put forth to publicly fund smallpox vaccinations and make them compulsory for infants."
"Compulsory?" Her blue-green-hazel eyes widened. "That's a rather radical idea, don't you think?"
"Not at all. England is terribly behind the times. Vaccinations were made compulsory in Bavaria in 1807, Denmark in 1810, Norway in 1811, Bohemia and Russia in 1812, and now this year in Sweden." He hoped he had all those dates right; he'd had to memorize them for the speech. "If we're to wipe this scourge off the face of the earth, everyone must cooperate."
She seemed to mull that over for a minute. "This is very important to you, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's very important."
"Why is that?"
"Must there be a reason? Can't it just be for the good of humanity?"
"I think not," she said. "Not when you're so vehement about the subject."
He mentally added perceptive to the list of her qualities. "My brother died of smallpox."
"Oh," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."
"There was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing I could do but watch him die. It's a terrible, horrible disease. Have you ever seen someone suffering with it?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. At least not in the final stages."
"I hope you never will. The pain is excruciating, and the pocks—well, never mind." He wouldn't sicken her by describing the way they'd proliferated on Philip's body until he'd looked like little more than one huge, oozing pustule. "Suffice it to say that I'm hoping someday no one will ever suffer with it again. And I wish to do my part to make that happen."
Her gaze was full of admiration. "You're a good man, James."
Although the tone of her voice made his heart swell, he shrugged. "This is a unique circumstance. Vaccination has given us an opportunity we've never had before—a chance to destroy something that has afflicted mankind for centuries. We'd be fools not to take advantage of it."
"I hope you can convince Parliament, then," she said and reached to take his hand.
She'd actually reached to take his hand. She was holding it. He was afraid to
