"Well, you shouldn't."
Maybe Amanda's arguments were valid. After all, James wanted to marry her. And Lord Malmsey certainly didn't. And Aunt Frances—dear, myopic Aunt Frances—would be devastated if Amanda married Lord Malmsey. The only person who would be happy if Amanda didn't trick James was her dratted, conniving father. Surely that would be the greater wrong.
That all sounded well justified, didn't it?
Juliana's sisters often said that justification was one of her many talents.
"Well?" Amanda asked.
"All right. We'll make a plan."
"Gracious me." Amanda lifted her dish and happily scooped up a spoonful of strawberry soup. "I thought you'd never agree."
Wondering if she should have agreed, Juliana began plotting.
TWENTY-FIVE
ORANGE JUMBLES
Mixe a cup of Flower with Almonds ground fine and Sugar, then add two spoones of grated rinde of Oranges and Salt. Rub in some Butter and binde with beaten whites of two Egges. When smooth, make into pieces and roll each out in the shape of an S. Bake on a greased tin until browne and golden.
This receipt has been in our family for a very long time. They are a homely sort of biscuit, good for taking to ailing villagers or anyone you like to make comfortable.
—Lady Diana Caldwell, 1689
JAMES HANDED the hopeful young woman a pencil and slid a piece of paper across the counter. "Write your name here, please, on line fourteen."
She squinted at the page.
"There," he elaborated, indicating the number 14.
She bit her lip and wrote an awkward X beside it.
The eleventh X on the page.
"Thank you," he said, suppressing a sigh, "but I don't believe you will find this position suitable."
Her shoulders slumped as she turned, and he wished he could help. The introduction of new machinery was causing massive unemployment all over England, but his concern about that problem didn't change the fact that he required an assistant who could read and write.
As she plodded out of the New Hope Institute, Juliana danced in, gave a jaunty wave toward the Chase carriage outside, and stuck her umbrella in the stand by the door.
It was Wednesday, and—James checked his pocket watch—precisely one o'clock. Having not seen Juliana since the dinner at Stafford House on Sunday, he'd been wondering if she would actually show up. As she walked toward him, her smile seemed to brighten the entire reception room, some feat considering his current mood.
Though it was raining outside—of course—she was wearing a thin, sunny yellow dress that did nothing to disguise her curves. Which meant it did nothing to help contain his ever-growing lust, either. The bodice was small, as usual, which made him envision her lovely breasts popping right out of it.
Bloody hell.
"Good afternoon," he said. "No Lady Frances?"
"Oh, she'd be bored, and she doesn't care for this neighborhood. Besides, this is hardly a situation that requires a chaperone." She seemed to be staring at the area below his throat. "The carriage will return for me at four o'clock. Why are you out here?" Raising her gaze to his face—with some effort, it appeared—she placed the basket she was carrying on the counter between them. "Shouldn't you be in one of the treatment rooms, giving vaccinations?"
"I'm interviewing for a new assistant." He gestured toward the HELP WANTED sign he'd once again placed in the window. "And playing the part of assistant myself until I find one."
"Did the last one you hired leave, then?"
"Yes. This morning." The pouring rain had kept a queue from forming all the way to Surrey today, but that also meant potential new employees were staying home. Juliana seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so he added, "She found herself with child unexpectedly."
"Unexpectedly? How can it be that a woman does what it takes to get a child without expecting to find herself with one?"
He knew quite a few ways, actually—he was a physician, after all—but he wouldn't explain them to an innocent young lady. Not even one unreserved enough to raise the question while wearing a dress with a tiny bodice and staring at the little bit of skin that was exposed where he'd left his top button undone.
"She has no husband," he said, unfastening a second button to see her reaction. "The father of her child cannot afford to support a wife."
"Oh." She looked a mite scandalized, but he wasn't sure whether to attribute that to his unbuttoning or to the news that his unwed assistant had got herself with child. "She must feel perfectly dreadful."
"Less dreadful, I expect, since I gave her fifty pounds and sent her off to get married."
Her entire face lit up. "Then she won't have to give her child to the Foundling Hospital. That was wonderful, James."
He hadn't been feeling very wonderful until now, but the admiration in her voice made him want to kiss her. Hell, the mere sight of her made him want to kiss her. The tiny bodice didn't help, and neither did her obvious interest in his bare skin. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing they were someplace besides the Institute.
Although it was probably best that they weren't.
"I brought you orange jumbles," she said, lifting the cloth that covered the basket to reveal biscuits that smelled almost as good as she did. "They're supposed to be good for the ailing." She glanced around the crowded reception area. "Though I suppose these people aren't ailing, really, are they?"
"My goal is to keep them from ailing."
"Yes, of course. Well, the jumbles are supposed to help keep one comfortable as well. Try one."
As he took one of the sweets—wondering if it was so apparent that he was uncomfortable—a woman and her newly vaccinated son walked out, the youngster sucking a sugar stick.
"Excuse me," James said and stepped from behind the counter. "Number forty-three!"
Another woman and her two children rose and followed him into the back. Taking the biscuit with him, he showed them to a treatment room. The orange jumble was crisp and tasted sweet and citrusy, but it wasn't comforting.
When he returned, Juliana was behind the
