A very simple treat, these have a calming effect. My grandmother used to serve them to my grandfather to make him reasonable.
—Anne, Marchioness of Cainewood, 1764
EVEN WITH A flurry of activity, Juliana's afternoon had passed excruciatingly slowly. Despite the heroic efforts of her five guests, her sewing party had added only eight items to her stockpile, well short of the twenty-five she'd been hoping for. But she hadn't been able to prolong the gathering past her usual four o'clock stopping time, knowing the men would be arriving at quarter past six.
She'd shooed everyone out of the house and hurried to the kitchen to make the wafers. When the sweets came out of the oven, she donned her most modest dress—a white one—and applied just enough cosmetics to look fresh and innocent. Then she paced around the drawing room until Corinna grew irritated enough to set down her paintbrush and summon her maid to accompany her for a walk.
She hadn't meant to drive her sister away from the house. But all the same, she couldn't help but be a little pleased that she'd be able to explain her plan to James and the duke without enduring Corinna's usual caustic asides.
James arrived first. She hurried him into the drawing room, giving him the details as they went.
"Then Lady Amanda can marry the duke," she concluded, "which will leave you free to—" She clamped her lips shut. While James had proclaimed his love, he hadn't made an offer of marriage. "Why on earth would Lady Amanda's father refuse?" she added instead.
"I don't know." Sounding hopeful but maybe also a bit hesitant, he glanced toward the open door, then shrugged and drew her into his arms. "But I pray he won't, because Lady Amanda isn't the woman I wish to wed."
She laid her head against his chest, savoring his warmth, hoping she was the woman he wished to wed instead. Wishing he could be hers forever.
He would be hers forever. "Lord Wolverston won't refuse," she said firmly. "He'd be an idiot to reject a duke as a son-in-law."
"My confident Juliana." James tilted her chin up, and she found herself captured in his intense chocolate gaze. Something fluttered in her middle as he lowered his lips to meet hers.
He brushed her mouth with aching tenderness, then settled there, deepening the kiss. His hands skimmed down her sides and found hers, lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight. There was something different about their kisses now that they'd admitted their love, something possessive, something more meaningful.
Something she knew she'd never find with any other man.
"Ahem." They broke apart to find the duke standing in the doorway. "Your note said you have a plan?"
Though she blushed wildly, she kept one of James's hands in hers. "Yes," she said and quickly explained, finishing with "Why on earth would Lady Amanda's father refuse?"
"He shouldn't," the duke said stiffly, his disapproving gaze on their clasped hands. "He won't reject me as a son-in-law. He'd have to be dumber than a box of hair to do that."
JULIANA AND Castleton were both sure Lord Wolverston wasn't stupid enough to reject a duke. And James had silently agreed with them—until they arrived in the man's dining room and he greeted them with all the warmth of an icicle.
"I don't recall issuing dinner invitations."
Lady Amanda set down her fork. "They're not here for dinner, Father."
"Excellent. Then I'm certain they'll have the good manners to leave."
"No, they won't." In all the weeks James had spent in Lady Amanda's company, he'd never seen her look so resolute. "The Duke of Castleton has something to ask you, Father."
"I don't choose to listen." Lord Wolverston leisurely drained his wineglass before setting it down. "Hastings, see these people to the door," he said and began to rise.
"No!" Amanda jumped from her chair and pushed him back down. "You will sit here and listen."
He gazed at his suddenly assertive daughter as though she'd grown an extra head. "Since when—"
"Lord Wolverston," Juliana interrupted, holding forth her basket. "If you're finished with your dinner, would you care for a sweet? I baked wafers this afternoon."
He stared at her as though she had three heads. "Ladies don't stoop to the level of kitchen maids."
An awkward silence filled the room. Even stuffy Castleton seemed discomfited by the man's attitude. But he stepped forward. "My lord," he said formally, "I assure you that my wife—my duchess—will never step foot in a kitchen. I would like to request the honor of your daughter's hand in marriage."
"My daughter is marrying Lord Stafford," Wolverston replied stiffly. "This Saturday." He rose again. "Now I expect you all to leave before I have to see that you're thrown out."
"Father!" Tears sprang to Lady Amanda's blue-gray eyes. "The Duke of Castleton is proposing marriage. A duke, Father! Surely you cannot refuse him!"
"I can, and I will." He looked to Castleton. "When next I see you at White's—this evening or another time—we shall pretend this interview never occurred," he said and turned to leave.
"No, we shall not." Castleton strode around the table and stood blocking the man's way to the door. "I wish to wed your daughter, and she wishes to wed me. If you've a valid reason to object, I want to hear it."
Wolverston hesitated a moment while his expression shifted to something resembling stone. "You don't want to hear it," he finally said mildly.
"I demand to hear it," the duke insisted through gritted teeth.
James had to give Castleton credit. In contrast to Wolverston's expressionless expression, the ass had never looked less reserved in his life. In fact, he looked formidable—and rather like he was preparing to strangle the older man.
Until he heard the next words from Wolverston's mouth.
"Very well, then." Calm, emotionless words. "I once had a liaison with your mother. Thirty-three years ago, to be precise. I fear you may be my son."
Juliana's basket dropped from her
