"Of course there are," she said, pleased to hear he agreed that couples should have things in common. "They should share interests—for example, chess and antiquities. And in your case especially, I should think you would want a wife who isn't sickened by the sight of blood."
"I'm not a surgeon," he pointed out, "and I don't believe in bleeding patients. Nor would I expect a wife to assist me with my practice. So there's virtually no chance she would have to deal with blood."
That was a bit of a relief, although there was no reason it should be. "James…"
"You mentioned chess," he said. "Would you care for a game?"
"Lady Amanda adores chess." She really had something she needed to discuss. "I prefer playing cards, especially casino."
"I enjoy whist," he said. "Perhaps someday you can teach me casino. When is our next outing?" He reached for his glass of port, rubbing up against her in the process.
Thinking he should be touching Amanda instead, she suppressed a pleasurable but rather disturbing shiver. She could smell his scent again. Very male soap, with a little starch, maybe, and something else she couldn't identify. She leaned closer, in order to keep their conversation private. "You don't need any more lessons."
"Oh." He took a sip and set down the glass, looking relieved. Or maybe disappointed.
No, relieved. There was no reason for him to be disappointed, after all.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Quite. I've been thinking…"
"Yes?" Grazing her again, he forked up another bite.
Juliana lowered her voice. "We need to plan a way for you to publicly compromise Lady Amanda."
The fork clattered back to the plate. "Compromise Lady Amanda? Whyever would I do that?"
"In order to get her father to agree to your marrying her."
"I would never do such an underhanded thing," he whispered fiercely. Juliana couldn't decide whether he looked more shocked or affronted. "And besides, why should her father not accept my suit, should I choose to marry her? I may be engaged in a profession, but I'm an earl as well. It's not as though I'm a pauper."
That much was clear—a pauper didn't set his table with gold spoons. But if James refused to even entertain the thought of compromising Amanda, what would he do if he found out she was already engaged? What would he do if he realized that in order to marry her, he'd have to trick Lord Wolverston into breaking a contract with another man?
He'd refuse to marry her, that was what. He was entirely too honorable to have anything to do with something as underhanded as what Juliana and Amanda had planned. But their plan wasn't underhanded—it was…what was that word James had used to describe his own willingness to bow to Parliament's opposition to making vaccinations compulsory?
Pragmatic, that was it. Her plan was pragmatic. And justified, under the circumstances.
Lord Wolverston wasn't honorable—he was treating his daughter abominably—which meant dishonorable means were entirely justifiable if necessary to stop him.
But she knew James wouldn't see it that way. He was too good a man. Too good for his own good.
As Amanda and the duke stepped into the room from the alcove, Juliana sighed and moved to a chair so Amanda could sit beside James. But Amanda didn't, choosing another chair to sit upon instead, because, after all, she was a reserved sort of woman, and James didn't leave very much room on the cozy love seat.
Heaven forbid Amanda should sit too close to a man—even a man she was planning to marry.
Juliana shrugged and took a bite of her tart, thinking that if James and Amanda weren't going to share the love seat, she should share it herself with the duke so she could start teaching him to be more affectionate. He'd chosen the chair beside her, unsurprisingly, but that wasn't close enough to show him how good being truly close could feel. Of course, before she could share the love seat with the duke, she'd have to get James to move off of it. But that shouldn't be any problem at all.
"Lord Stafford would like to pass some time playing chess," she told Amanda.
"Another time," James disagreed. "An evening is never long in good company."
"An ancient proverb," Amanda said with a small smile.
Whether it was a proverb or not, Juliana had failed to get James off the love seat. Oh, well, she thought with an internal sigh, she'd have to sit closer to the duke next time. And so she spent the evening being good company…all the while pondering what she could do to help a good man like James win the happiness he deserved.
And failing utterly to come up with anything.
"WHAT A LOVELY girl," Cornelia said after closing the door behind their guests.
James turned to her wearily. Spending time with Juliana—without touching her as he itched to—seemed to wear him out. "Yes, Mother," he said. "Lady Amanda is quite lovely."
"Well, yes, she is, but I was speaking of Lady Juliana." She started up the wide, cantilevered stone staircase that led to the upper floors. "Lady Juliana is lovely inside, don't you think? Not that she isn't pretty, mind you—she's a darling little thing—but I think the way she tries so hard to help is lovely in itself. She really cares about people. She brought us all a sweet she made from her great-grandmother's recipe. She makes clothing for the Foundling Hospital. And she even volunteered to help at the New Hope Institute." Halfway up, she paused and turned to look back at him, her hand on the trompe l'oeil-painted metal balustrade. "A lady of the ton, helping at your Institute!"
James was quite aware that Juliana had mistakenly manipulated herself into that position, but he wouldn't say so to his mother. Because Cornelia was right. Juliana was lovely inside. She wasn't nearly as frivolous as he'd once thought.
"She's a treasure," his mother declared. "I think you should marry her instead of Lady Amanda."
"I
