She couldn't let him kiss her again after this. Or touch her again. Ever.
He gathered the cards from the table and the floor and slipped the deck back into his pocket, and then they left the greenhouse and went back to the middle of the garden where everyone else was waiting.
Aunt Frances had obviously been kissing Lord Malmsey; in the dim light of the setting sun, they both looked happy and flushed. Aunt Frances had finished packing up the basket, and Lord Malmsey had folded the blanket. He was holding it over his arm.
Naturally, the duke and Amanda had done nothing. The two of them were much too aristocratic to do the work of servants. And of course they hadn't kissed. Neither of them was flushed. No doubt Amanda had gone off with the duke purposely, specifically to avoid being kissed by James.
So Juliana had been kissed instead. And touched instead. And she very much feared she was flushed. She was appalled at herself.
It wouldn't happen again, she reminded herself fiercely. She would never again play cards with James.
"Where have you been?" Amanda asked. "David and I have been looking all over for you."
For a moment, Juliana felt puzzled, but then she remembered the duke's name was David. How could she have forgotten the name of the man she expected to marry? And when had Amanda—proper, reserved Amanda—begun calling the duke by his given name? She expected to marry James, and she was still calling him Lord Stafford.
Nothing was right tonight. Nothing. Nothing was going well; nothing was happening as planned.
Her stomach hurt.
"We were playing cards," James explained, pulling the deck out of his pocket to prove it. "All of you went off, so we decided to go in the greenhouse where it was warm and play cards."
Nobody looked suspicious. Apparently it was a reasonable explanation. Nobody, after all—most especially nobody as innocent as Frances and Amanda—would think playing cards could possibly lead to what had happened tonight.
But although that was a relief, Juliana's stomach still hurt. She had to fix everything. Somehow, some way, she had to get James together with Amanda.
"I'm going to the Pevenseys' tomorrow night," she said as they all started walking toward the Stafford carriage. "For a musical evening. I hope you'll all want to come."
What she would do when they got there, how she would get James together with Amanda, she hadn't a clue. But just getting them there would be a start.
"I would love to attend a musical evening," Aunt Frances said as she climbed in.
"I would love to attend, too," Lord Malmsey agreed, following her.
"So would I," Amanda said and climbed in next, sitting across from them.
Juliana's stomachache began to ease. She climbed in herself, taking the opposite end of the seat from Amanda in order to leave space in the middle for James. She gestured to the duke, indicating the spot across from her. "I hope you'll come, too."
"Much as I would be delighted to spend the evening with you, my dear, I think I should go to Parliament," he said as he took the place by Amanda.
How annoying. How absolutely annoying. He was supposed to sit across from her and leave the space by Amanda for James. "I should think you would prefer to attend a musical evening," she said rather peevishly.
"I abhor musical evenings," he said, not peevishly in the least. And then he smiled down at her apologetically, and she realized he wasn't sitting in the space by Amanda, he was sitting in the space by her. Rather close, as a matter of fact, so she probably shouldn't be so annoyed.
He was falling in love with her. He called her my dear and sent her flowers. He needed her, and this close proximity would allow her to finally start teaching him to be affectionate. She scooted a little closer, so they'd be touching.
And that was when she realized she couldn't marry him.
She wasn't going to be a duchess.
They were touching, but she didn't find it the least bit enjoyable. She couldn't even imagine letting him touch her the way James had in the greenhouse. Now that she knew what love felt like, she knew she would never have those feelings for the duke.
She felt terrible. The duke was so nice, and he was falling in love with her, but she couldn't love him back. He'd suffered hurt and rejection throughout his childhood, and now she was going to reject him again. How could she tell him? How could she cast him aside without destroying him completely?
And what about Griffin? Poor Griffin. He was going to be so disappointed; he was going to have to start looking for a husband for her again. She obviously wouldn't be marrying this season—it would probably be another year at least. How was she going to tell Griffin?
James climbed in. "I abhor musical evenings, too," he said as a footman shut the door. He took the place across from her and settled back, his legs so long his knees touched hers. How annoying when she was immersed in trying to figure out a gentle way to break this distressing news to her brother and the duke.
James smiled at her as though he could tell she was annoyed. As though he enjoyed annoying her. "No man worth his salt would choose a musical evening over Parliament," he informed her.
"A Roman proverb!" Amanda exclaimed.
"It is not!" Juliana snapped.
"It is," Amanda said reasonably, sounding very bookish. "It alludes to the practice of paying Roman soldiers with rations of salt. Our English word salary comes from the Latin word salarium, which means salt money."
"She's right," the duke said. "'A man worth his salt' has been a proverb for centuries."
Obviously he was bookish, too. How absolutely annoying.
THIRTY-SIX
LORD MALMSEY was the youngest
