The older couple jerked apart. A flush rushed up Frances's neck and spread to her cheeks. Not a delicate flush, either—it was more like a bright red flood.
But she kept her composure. "Are your aunts feeling better?" she asked James, folding her hands in her lap.
"Remarkably." He handed Amanda in first, then Juliana before himself. She left space for him in the middle, but it seemed there wasn't enough, because he ended up squished against her. "To the Leicester Square Panorama," he instructed and settled back.
They all rode in silence for a few awkward moments. James felt very warm against Juliana. Her stomach was feeling even more queer. "Lord Stafford was telling us his aunt Bedelia has been married four times," she told Frances.
"Oh, my," Frances said.
After a few more awkward moments, Juliana looked up to James. "Were there no children?"
"None that lived. And Aunt Aurelia's life has been even more tragic."
"How many husbands did she have?" Amanda asked in a tone that Juliana found rather disapproving.
James didn't seem to notice, however. "Only one, the Earl of Avonleigh. But their children failed to bring her happiness. Her eldest daughter eloped with a cousin, prompting her husband to disown the girl. Aurelia never heard from her again and learned she'd died a number of years later. Her middle child, a son, drank too much and accidentally drowned. And her youngest, another daughter, ended her own life soon after marrying. She jumped off the London Bridge, taking her unborn child with her."
"Oh, my," Frances said again.
"Aunt Aurelia's husband died soon thereafter. A 'visitation from God' was the coroner's official verdict, but I expect his spirit was broken."
"I don't doubt that," Lord Malmsey said.
Juliana nodded. "It's a wonder your aunt survived."
"She's a strong lady. They both are. It's a shame they have no children or grandchildren to dote upon."
"They have you," she pointed out.
"I know, and I adore them. I admire their pluck." The carriage came to a halt. "I just wish they had someone else to pluck at once in a while."
The door opened to Leicester Square and a huge round building. Over a rather nondescript entrance, a fancy marquee said PANORAMA. Before it stood the duke.
Juliana was relieved to see he didn't look perturbed. On the other hand, he didn't look happy, either. He looked the way he usually did: reserved and rather bland. His pale blue eyes calm, his expression pleasant.
Everyone clambered out of the carriage. "Good afternoon, my dear," the duke said to her. "I was very pleased to receive your invitation."
After everyone else exchanged greetings, the men bought tickets at the box office and they all proceeded inside. A long, narrow, dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, and it got even darker when the door shut behind them.
Amanda shrieked.
"There now," a voice said, soothing her. "Take my arm."
It was the duke, not James.
James took Juliana's arm instead. Even in the dark she knew it was James, because he smelled like soap and starch instead of eau de cologne. And because her stomach felt even queerer.
"You should be escorting Lady Amanda," she whispered as they all groped their way down the hall, laughing and feeling their way along the walls.
"She'll be fine," he said.
Of course Amanda would be fine. The duke was very kind to soothe her. It was somewhat of a shock going from the busy, open square to the dim, closed-in corridor, but it wasn't really scary. In fact, it was sort of fun. However, James could hardly kiss Amanda while she was with the duke, and that wasn't a good thing.
By the time they reached the end of the corridor, Juliana's eyes had adjusted to the low light and she could see somewhat. A tall staircase spiraled up. And up. And up. The light in the stairwell grew a little brighter as they went.
"My knees hurt," Amanda complained halfway up. "Can we please stop and rest?"
"Of course we can," the duke said.
Propelled by James, Juliana passed them and kept going.
Behind her, Frances giggled. "I cannot remember the last time I turned in so many circles!"
Indeed, Juliana felt like a blindfolded child being spun around as part of a game. It was a bit disorienting. She held tighter to James, noticing he seemed to be limping a little more than usual. Maybe Amanda had been right when she said he shouldn't have been kneeling.
Suddenly the staircase ended, and they emerged to find themselves transported to another time and place. Like magic, they'd gone from Leicester Square to Belgium in a matter of minutes.
Feeling like she was still spinning, Juliana wormed her way through the crowd and gripped the platform's rail. All around her, above and below, a battlefield stretched miles into the distance.
"Amazing," James breathed behind her.
It was overwhelming. She knew the panorama was only a giant painting, but everything in the rotunda was designed to trick the eyes. Indirect illumination, provided by narrow skylights beneath the edge of the domed ceiling, made it look like outdoors at dusk. Far below, a three-dimensional terrain stretched from under the platform up to the walls, filled with lifelike vegetation, objects, and figures that blended into the picture, making everything seem real.
And all around, the Battle of Waterloo raged.
Chaos reigned. Cavalrymen charged on horses with bayoneted infantry at their backs. Officers gave orders, soldiers aided the fallen, smoke rose from cannons in a stand of trees. The ground was low in places, muddy in others, fenced and open, brown and green, flat and rough and everything in between. Fields that should have been smooth were littered with the killed and wounded, the contents of their knapsacks strewn all over. As far as the eye could see, men scrambled and fought, their guns and swords flashing in the glistening haze made by spent artillery.
When Juliana finally felt steady enough to release the rail, she edged sideways around
