"Wait here," she said.
"Why?"
"Just wait, will you? I cannot stay long—I have ladies coming to sew at two o'clock." All of her projects were beginning to make her feel a bit frazzled. "It won't take me but a minute to ask one simple question."
"Very well," he said, again shaking his head in that mystified, brotherly way of his. He plopped back onto the seat.
She banged the knocker, and the door was opened by the same crimson-liveried footman who had welcomed her last week. Through the window in the back of the entrance hall, Lady Stafford waved from the courtyard garden. She hurried inside. "How are you, my dear? I didn't expect to see you until your sewing party this afternoon. What do you have there?"
Juliana handed her the platter. "Some Richmond Maids of Honour for Lord Stafford. And for you, too, of course."
"They smell divine."
"I've come to ask Lord Stafford a quick question. Is he at home?"
"He's upstairs in his study, spending this beautiful day going over the Institute's books." Shaking her head in a fond, motherly way, she started toward the staircase. "Follow me, if you will."
It was quite the most elegant staircase Juliana had ever seen. The metal balustrade was painted to look like festooned drapery. Above her head, a segmented barrel ceiling gave the impression of a classical temple interior with garlands swagged between Roman pilasters.
She assumed Lady Stafford was leading her toward the study, but instead she walked her through an impressive library and into a room so splendid it stole Juliana's breath. If she had been a fortune-hunting sort of woman, the very sight of it would have made her want to marry James. It put the gorgeous Palm Room below it to shame.
She'd never seen so much gilt in her life. It dazzled the eye. Fancy gilt columns supported a gilt ceiling. Between all the gleaming gilt, the walls were covered with painted scenes.
"We call this the Painted Room," Lady Stafford said. "Marriage is the theme."
Juliana nearly swooned over the frieze painted on the chimneypiece.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lady Stafford set the platter of cheesecakes on a gilt-legged marble-topped table. "It's a copy of the celebrated Aldobrandini Wedding, a Roman fresco excavated in the early seventeenth century and exhibited in the Vatican."
"It's exquisite," Juliana breathed. The theme of marriage continued all around the room, with some of the scenes executed directly onto the plaster and others painted on gilt-framed canvas panels. Above a pier glass, a circular panel displayed a painting of another Roman wedding. Other panels depicted music, drinking, and dancing. There were paintings of Cupid and Venus. Nymphs danced on the ceiling, lovers courted on the walls, and a frieze of rose wreaths and garlands of flowers went all around the cornice.
The whole mood was festive and carefree.
"Isn't marriage wonderful?" Lady Stafford said. "Please have a seat. I'll send in my son."
Juliana perched herself on one of four green silk sofas with gilt arms carved to look like winged lions. She folded her hands in her lap. She crossed her feet and uncrossed them. She rose and peeked at her sweets.
The winged lion sofas had six matching chairs, and she was heading for one of them when James walked in.
"Here," she said, grabbing the platter. "I brought these cheesecakes for you."
He took them, looking as mystified as Griffin. But not at all brotherly. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that not only was he without a coat or cravat and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck again, but he'd rolled up his cuffs, too. A good six inches of his forearms were bare—muscled forearms, lightly sprinkled with dark hair.
"What are you doing here, Juliana?"
She jerked her gaze up to his face. There was no sense putting it off. "I came to apologize. Won't you have one of the cheesecakes? The recipe is said to have been in my family since Queen Elizabeth's time."
He set down the platter. "Apologize for what?"
He wasn't going to eat any Richmond Maids of Honour. She would have to hope he'd forgive her without their magic. "For plotting with Lady Amanda to trick you into compromising her," she confessed in a rush. "In the library last night. I was hoping you would kiss her, and then I'd bring Lady Billingsgate to witness Lady Amanda's disgrace, so her father would be forced to assent to your marriage." She drew a shaky breath. "Can you forgive me?"
"That's terrible." She'd known he would disapprove, but she hadn't expected he'd look quite so dour. His fists were clenched. "Whyever would you do that? I told you, I can see no reason Lord Wolverston would reject my suit should I decide to ask for his daughter's hand."
"She doesn't believe he'd agree. He isn't a very nice man."
"Surely he isn't stupid." He unclenched his fists, but only to cross his half-bare arms. "I'm excellent husband material."
He had a high opinion of himself, but it wasn't unjustified. There was no doubt he'd make an excellent husband for Amanda. "I'm sorry I went behind your back, but why are you so upset? However terrible the means, the outcome would have been to your benefit. You'd have found yourself married to the woman you love. Unless…"
An awful thought suddenly occurred to her.
She'd assumed that since he was still courting Amanda, he'd fallen in love with her. But what if he hadn't? What if her scheming had resulted in James being forced to marry a woman he didn't love?
"Do you not love Lady Amanda yet?" She held her breath, waiting for the answer.
"No," he said, looking quite sure. Not to mention horrified.
It was the wrong answer, so why did she feel relieved? "Maybe you're in love with her, but you don't know it," she suggested. "Maybe you don't know what love feels like." It was a reasonable question, certainly. She'd asked it of herself several times over the last few weeks.
But now he looked annoyed.
