Season for Temptation

Chapter 19. In Which the Viscount Eventually Dances

The turban was an immediate success.

Lady Alleyneham, Charissa’s mother, stared with covetous eyes at Lady Irving’s dazzling headdress. Lady Irving pretended not to notice, patting her violet monstrosity absently as she made Louisa’s excuses.

“Of course, she’ll call on you at your next at-home to deliver her regrets in person,” Lady Irving said with a feline smile. “As the season’s begun in earnest, I’m sure you’ll have new garments for the occasion, if I know you, my dear. You are always so elegant.”

Next to her aunt, Julia reeled. Lady Irving had spent the entire carriage ride to Alleyneham House nattering about The Affair of the Turban, as Julia now thought of it. Now that her ladyship had triumphed over her foes — or more accurately, her friends — Julia hoped she could be left alone in silence for a few blessed seconds. Just enough time to come to terms with the fact that Louisa wasn’t here.

And James was.

But before Julia could slip away in search of a quiet place to think, her aunt seized her by the elbow and began steering her into the ballroom, hailing a series of friends and acquaintances as she strode.

“Might as well get all the use I can out of this creation,” she muttered, giving her plumed turban another pat as she nodded to an elderly nobleman. “Good evening, Haverley. Am I not looking ravishing this evening?”

The countess turned to James with a dazzling smile. “Well, we’ll see you later on, Matheson. Perhaps at supper. I’m sure you want to find the card room, or whatever it is that unnecessary young gentlemen do during balls when they’re not dancing.”

Julia’s mouth dropped open. James was her lifeline; her aunt couldn’t send him away. James looked taken aback, too, and seemed about to reply, but Lady Irving waved a dismissive hand at him and began to drag Julia away in her talon-like grip.

“He can’t do you any good this evening, my girl, as he’s already taken,” she explained in a voice that was not nearly quiet enough, considering the number of people pressing against Julia and carrying her away from James. Two dozen perfect strangers, at least, could hear Lady Irving barking out orders. “We need to find Sir Stephen for you at once, or perhaps that Pellington fellow. Remember what I told you — rich and titled. You’ve got to keep your eye on the prize.”

This was utter humiliation. Julia’s thoughts were still in a tumble from Louisa’s sudden illness, and now her aunt was telling half of London that she was on the hunt for a husband.

She began glancing at her surroundings, trying to pretend she didn’t know the strange and magnificent woman prodding her in the arm. It was difficult to see much of the ballroom around the crowd of people. Truly, this event would achieve the triumph of being called a mad crush with no exaggeration whatsoever. The size of the room alone was imposing; to Julia’s unaccustomed eyes, there seemed to be hundreds of people milling about within its walls.

Peering through the crowds of hot, jostling, elegantly dressed people, she could catch glimpses of a polished dance floor already occupied by what looked like dozens of couples winding their way through the ball’s opening minuet. A thicker crowd at one end of the long ballroom indicated the probable location of the refreshments.

The nervousness she’d felt earlier in the evening began to twist through her body again. It choked her throat, made her stomach clench, and caused her feet to feel heavy and clumsy as her aunt pulled her around the ballroom in search of someone with a fat bankroll. James had long since vanished in the crowd, and Julia couldn’t spot Charissa either. Without friendly faces around, the crush and the crowd and the scramble for partners lost their magic and excitement.

Simone had been wrong this evening, completely wrong. Julia couldn’t hold her chin high and pretend that she loved it here. She was just one of a surplus of inexperienced girls in fancy dresses, and she was hardly the richest, prettiest, or wittiest of the bunch. Yet here she was in London, tasked with finding a husband, grasp and scuttle though she must.

Just as she was beginning to wish she were back in the Grosvenor Square house with Louisa, she felt a gentle touch at her elbow. The one not currently being wrenched by her aunt.

She twisted in Lady Irving’s grasp to see Sir Stephen’s smiling countenance behind her.

“Sir Stephen,” she greeted him, curtsying. This drew Lady Irving’s attention, and the countess again switched on her most dazzling smile.

“Sir Stephen,” she echoed, and gave him her hand to kiss. “How delightful to see you. Are you just arrived? Have you had the chance to dance yet?” She raised her arched eyebrows expectantly and looked back and forth from him to her niece.

Julia could have sworn the ostrich plumes on Lady Irving’s turban bobbed from one of them to the other as if colluding in her aunt’s effort to throw her at the baronet. She supposed her aunt could have been more obvious if she had commanded Sir Stephen to dance with, ravish, or wed Julia on the spot (all would probably do equally well, in Lady Irving’s mind), but really, this was embarrassing enough.

Fortunately, Sir Stephen picked up the unmistakable hint. “Indeed I have recently arrived, and have only just finished greeting our host and hostess. I have not yet had the opportunity to dance, but would be most grateful if Miss Herington would do me the honor of accompanying me in the next set.”

His eyes turned from Lady Irving to Julia herself. His smile was kind and genuine, as always. Dependable and reliable; that was Sir Stephen.

She wished she could feel as excited about the proffered dance as her aunt apparently did; Lady Irving was practically quivering with her eagerness to throw Julia at the baronet’s feet.

Ah, well; it would be nice not to be dragged around by her aunt in search of male prey for at least half an hour.

Ruefully, she rubbed the arm that Lady Irving had just released. “I would be delighted to dance with you, Sir Stephen.”

She smiled back at him and was gratified to watch his amiable face light up. He really was a handsome gentleman, although the crinkles at the corners of his eyes never failed to remind her how much older than she he was.

She took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the dance, her smile growing as excitement began to bloom within her again, as he complimented her on her appearance and swooped her into the line of dancers.

Perhaps she could find something to be proud of, after all. She lifted her chin, just as Simone had shown her.

Standing only yards away, James was manfully restraining himself from throwing a punch at one of Sir Stephen’s eyes. Every male gaze that turned Julia’s way rankled him, but the baronet was the worst. He was looking at her so intently, he might as well have been peeling off her gown in front of hundreds of people.

James’s fist clenched at his side. Julia had asked him to keep an eye on her, after all. He’d already trekked all the way around the ballroom after her, unnoticed by either her or Lady Irving, no doubt cutting any number of acquaintances without even realizing it. He couldn’t help it; he was in a fog, drawn after Julia, a moth to her flame.

Perhaps he could intercede if Sir Stephen seemed to be too demanding. And yet he knew the purpose of Julia’s season was to contract an honorable marriage.

Even if she’d be better off contracting malaria.

He glowered at the dancing, laughing pair throughout their country set before slinking off to the card room at last for an hour of fruitless play in the company of men he barely knew and never cared if he saw again.

Following his time in the card room, James returned to the ballroom, and the evening began to seem endless. Hours passed, and James noted — like a good friend and protector — everyone who led Julia onto the dance floor. Far from languishing as a wallflower, it seemed she scarcely had the chance to reach the edge of the ballroom with her previous partner before another young man asked her for a dance. Xavier, Pellington. . good Lord, it seemed practically every man in London had an eye on her this evening.

Of course, Sir Stephen was the worst of them. Really, could the man not keep his hands off her? For someone so attentive to propriety, it was a positive scandal how he looked at her, and how he asked Julia to dance again and again. The man even monopolized her during the supper dance so he could lead her into the meal afterward. Really, it was too much.

Immediately following the supper, which James bolted down while standing in a corner of the room from which he could keep a strategic eye on that Saville fellow, he followed the pair as they headed back toward the ballroom. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he touched Julia lightly on the arm to draw her attention to him.

She turned to see who was summoning her, and when she looked into his eyes, her cheeks took on the rosy pink he knew as well as his own face.

“James,” she breathed, looking flustered. “Where did you — I’ve been — that is, I haven’t seen you this evening. Have you danced much?”

Was that anxiousness in her eyes? He smiled reassuringly, and took the arm not being held by Sir Stephen.

“I’ve been around. No, I haven’t danced much.” In truth, he hadn’t danced at all, but surely he could be forgiven this small lie. “I’ve been in the ballroom enough to notice you’ve hardly been a wallflower. Still, I would like to claim that waltz you promised me, if I might?”

He darted a glance at Sir Stephen out of the corner of his eye, counting on the older man to bow out.

Indeed, the baronet did just that, surrendering Julia’s arm and kissing her hand lightly as he took his leave. He thanked her very correctly for the honor of their dances and the supper together, and was pleased to leave her in the hands of her dear friend.

James would have rolled his eyes if that wouldn’t have been incredibly rude. Honestly, the fellow was like an etiquette textbook. But since he knew his share of etiquette as well, he only nodded his acknowledgment of the older man’s words and began to lead Julia toward the other dancers, who, following the supper, began at once to collect again near the musicians and the center of the ballroom.

As the instruments were tuned, James took Julia’s hand in his and touched his other to her slim waist. It would be a few minutes before the dance started, but he couldn’t help himself. He would have sworn he could feel the shape and warmth of her body through the delicate fabric of her dress. The tingling in his fingers began to return.

Julia drew a startled breath at the unexpected contact of his hand. His usual good humor now returned, he rather enjoyed Julia’s response to his touch. “Haven’t you waltzed before? I know you have permission.”

“Yes, I have,” she said, blushing again. “It’s just. . I forgot what it is like.” She bit that delicious full lower lip and smiled hesitantly at him. “I suppose I sound old-fashioned, but it’s almost shocking that such a thing is permitted in public, is it not? I mean, it doesn’t feel so when one is practicing in the nursery with one’s sister, but this is rather a different matter.”

“I should hope so,” James replied, stifling a laugh. “But it can’t be improper for us, since I am to be your brother.”

Her brother. He shuddered; the very thought was repugnant.

He realized that this was the first time he’d thought of Louisa, even indirectly, since entering the ballroom. And realized that the feeling of Julia’s waist under his hand was arousing in him a response that was decidedly unbrotherly.

In his arms, Julia was oblivious to these revelations. She was staring fixedly at the floor.

“Is something wrong?” James asked.

“Not at all,” Julia replied, her voice slightly muffled by her proximity to his chest. She was so close to him; only a breath away from an embrace. His heart began to pound treacherously fast.

Then she explained prosaically, “It’s just that I wanted to see how you placed your feet. I can’t remember how we start this dance, and it would be horrid if I trod on your toes in front of all these people.”

James mentally shook himself for his foolishness. He managed a laugh and responded as lightly as he could. “For the sake of my feet, I would prefer you not to tread on my toes regardless of the number of people watching. But this is false caution; I know you to be an excellent dancer. Here, the music is about to begin — follow my lead and we’ll do splendidly.”

She met his eyes and nodded her readiness. The tune began, its pulsing three-four rhythm sending the eager dancers into whirling motion around the floor. James spun Julia in concert with everyone else, the pressure of his hand at her waist subtly guiding their movement.

With Julia in his arms, the room came alive. Myriad candles glittered off the polished marble of the floor, the heavy pier glasses on the walls, and the cut crystal of the chandeliers hanging from the high, ornately plastered ceilings. Flame upon flame, reflected and multiplied throughout the room, glistened on the pearls at Julia’s throat, burnished her fair hair to gold, and added points of light in her eyes.

The dance picked up momentum, and Julia smiled at James, then began laughing as they whirled faster. The clasp of her hand tightened in his. Looking down at her elated face and her starry eyes, winking and lovely in the low light, James felt his heart turn over, and he knew that he could never let her marry Sir Stephen.

Julia’s whisper broke into his thoughts. “Do you know what I’ve wanted to do, ever since I came to London?”

Her warm breath heated his face, and his insides felt tight and eager as he replied in the negative. What was her secret desire, hidden for so long?

“To say ‘hell’ in a crowded ballroom,” she whispered, and pulled back delightedly to look at his face. “And I just did! James, I said it in front of all these people, and they didn’t even know!”

Once again, the feeling of heated tension broke. James threw back his head and laughed, as much at himself as at Julia. He was such a fool; she had her mind on the dance and nothing more, which was as it should be. “I’m so glad you’ve realized your heart’s desire,” he offered. “I won’t tell a soul about the depths of iniquity you’ve plumbed here in this very ballroom.”

“My heart’s desire,” Julia repeated, blinking at him owlishly. All at once she looked much more serious, and she opened her mouth as if to speak again.

James didn’t want to travel that line of thought any further. “How are you enjoying the ball so far?” he asked, sounding less nonchalant than he had hoped.

Julia was effectively diverted into a babble of small talk about the grandness of the home and the astounding number of beeswax candles the earl and countess had lit. And, because she was Julia, she told him all about what she’d had for supper and how she hadn’t been able to eat nearly as much as she wanted.

“I was too nervous to eat earlier, and I’m ravenous now,” she explained. “But at least I’ve been dancing enough to avoid Aunt Estella, so she hasn’t been able to call me vulgar or inflict any of her horrid advice on me. Although I’m sure I’ve done quite a few things she’d consider vulgar, without meaning to. Somehow I always do.”

“I can think of one.” James hadn’t meant to say it; it slipped out. Damnation. He really must keep better control over himself.

Julia couldn’t have looked more stunned if James had actually slapped her in the face. Her eyes were wide and hurt as she asked in a small voice, “Really? What did I do?”

Her expression made James feel like the lowest sort of dog. He wouldn’t have hurt her for anything. But since she was asking, and since he’d already said too much, he might as well have it out. “I saw Sir Stephen dance with you twice this evening already.”

Julia’s wounded face turned puzzled. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. Twice is no scandal, is it?”

“In an etiquette handbook, perhaps not.” James struggled to explain. “It’s more the way he danced with you. He’s been singling you out above all others throughout the evening, in fact.”

His voice became stiff, the I-am-a-viscount voice that his father had always employed to gain instant obedience. James had always hated that voice, but it seemed he’d inherited it anyway. “Just take care that you do not give him the wrong impression and lead him to hope for more than you wish to give.”

Julia stared at him for a long moment, then rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Sir Stephen is a very nice man, but I’m sure he never thinks of me as anything special. See, there he is across the floor now, dancing with Lady Caroline Bradleigh.”

James felt a little calmer at this reply, but he judged it safer to stop talking for now. What did it matter if the man singled Julia out or not? Good heavens, Sir Stephen was exactly the sort of man James and Louisa had plotted together for her to meet.

They whirled in silence for a while, one-two-three, one-two-three, and James became increasingly aware of the curve of Julia’s waist beneath his hand. For her part, she seemed unconscious of his inner agitation; in fact, she looked relaxed and happy in his arms, her eyes halfclosed as she gave herself over to the sway of the music. He had never seen anything so beautiful as her joyful face, and his heart was wrung. He had no right, none at all, to hold her or even think of her, yet he wanted nothing else.

The dance finally ended, none too soon, and James led Julia swiftly from the floor. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice friendly and polite. “May I take you to speak with a friend, or find your next dance partner?”

“Actually, I’d like something to drink,” Julia confessed. “Well, what I really want is a haunch of pork, but I don’t suppose there’s one in the saloon. Would you mind getting me some lemonade?”

“Not at all,” he said, bowing over her hand with strict formality. He made his way into the saloon, which he was dismayed to see was damnably crowded as these things always were. He grew increasingly irritable as he was elbowed by a series of young bucks, who all flashed insolent and insincere grins of apology.

Minutes dragged by before he was finally able to shove his way through the mob to gain possession of a glass of lemonade for Julia. By the time he returned to her — with half the glass sloshed onto the floor due to the jostling of the crowd — he saw that he was too late. Freddie Pellington had already seized hold of her and found her some sort of beverage. The two were laughing merrily about something, and Julia’s smile didn’t fade even when James grouchily thrust his hard-won cup at her. “Here is your lemonade; I’m sorry some of it spilled.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said. “Mr. Pellington has brought me something to drink as well, you see, and it is delightful!”

She shifted the glass to her other hand and accepted the cup from James as well, smiling broadly at both men. “My goodness, I am lucky, aren’t I? I know how trying it is to make one’s way through the crowd to get hold of something to drink. So I shall save these both and treasure them immeasurably.”

She nodded emphatically to punctuate her words, and Pellington, that fool, tittered and copied her lead. “Just so,” he said. “Dashed glad you like it. Special recipe and whatnot.”

James looked at both of them skeptically, but mentally shrugged. Julia seemed a bit off, but perhaps she was just hungry and excited. And Pellington was a harmless enough fellow. There was nothing wrong with him, after all, that a few more pounds of brains wouldn’t fix.

Naturally, Pellington led Julia out for the next dance, which James was relieved to see was a country set rather than another waltz. Knowing that no one would be groping Julia for nearly a half hour, he sought a quieter place to think.

He made his way out of the raucous ballroom and into the comparative quiet of the hall outside the library. The blessed silence was punctuated only by the occasional giggle of a private tête-à-tête behind one of the hall’s several closed doors.

He couldn’t help thinking of the last time he had been here for a ball, the night he met Louisa. He’d been reeling from his quick summons to London and the weight of his responsibility as the head of his family. A responsibility that had driven him to propose marriage to the first woman who gained his trust and respect, so that he could set up a household with his wife and provide a secure home for his shamed sister and her children.

He’d taken the step of engagement so lightly; it seemed logical at the time. And now his choice seemed a lifetime ago, and the woman he’d chosen had never made it to the altar with him. His best-laid plans had grown stale, his elegant fiancée was a mystery to him, and his own sense of honor — the honor that had driven him to protect his family — was merely a sham.

Alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t deny the truth. He was a dishonorable fool.

He had fallen in love with his fiancée’s sister.

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. How could this be? How had he let this happen? He had no answers, but the knowledge of his love for Julia pulsed through him like a heartbeat, inevitable and true. He knew this love, deeply and with certainty, though he’d never allowed himself to realize it before.

How seeing her always made him smile.

How he loved to hear her talk, and make her laugh that lovely, unfettered laugh of hers.

How he grew warm around her, and his thoughts roamed into furtive and passionate places.

Yes, he loved her, and part of him was sorry for it. He’d come into this family both too soon and too late, for his own good and the good of everyone else.

But he would not act with dishonor, even though it riddled his thoughts. He would abide by his engagement to Louisa. He would marry her whenever she was ready, and he would make her as happy as he possibly could. She would never guess the truth. She was a good woman, kind and true, and she deserved as much as he could give her, and more besides.

And Julia — well, someday she would marry Sir Stephen Saville, or someone very much like him. Until that time, he had better stay as far away from her as he could, within the bounds of family politeness.

That is, after he checked on her in the ballroom one last time. Just once more. .