Season for Temptation

Chapter 20. In Which Pellington’s Special Recipe Figures Prominently

James’s newfound resolution to keep his distance from Julia lasted for approximately thirty seconds after he reentered the ballroom.

He spotted her immediately, just as Freddie Pellington deposited her, a glass again in her hand, in a chair at the edge of the room. As soon as Pellington turned away, Julia leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes.

James’s heart seemed to stop with sudden concern. Heedless of the vow he had made to himself in the hallway, and of the masses of people between them, he at once pushed his way over to where she sat.

“Julia, are you all right?” he demanded.

Her eyes opened lazily, and she smiled slowly, a seductive smile that lifted one corner of her mouth and made it dimple. He caught his breath at the sight, and, with all the willpower he could muster, just barely resisted the urge to bend over and kiss her.

“Oh, James,” she breathed. “I’m very tired. But I feel wonderful.” Her head lolled to one side, and her eyes drifted closed.

His brows knitted, perplexed, and he leaned closer to her. “Are you sure? You look as if you’re—”

She hiccupped. Her eyes flew open wide in surprise, and she quickly straightened up and covered her mouth. She hiccupped again.

James drew back, stunned. “You’re foxed.”

“I beg your pardon?” Julia said indignantly. Hic.

“You’re three sheets to the wind. You’re — well, I’m not sure how one says this to a lady. You’re. . you’ve. . you seem to have imbibed excessively of alcoholic beverages.”

“I have not!” Julia answered hotly and just a little too loudly. James shushed her, and she continued in her loud whisper, “I have not. I haven’t had any alcohol at all. The last thing I drank was the lemonade that you gave me, and those glasses of punch Mr. Pellington gave me before and after our dance.” Hic.

Realization dawned on her face, and she gasped, “Oh, Lord, the punch. What was in that punch?” She gaped at the empty glass in her hand and thrust it away from her in mortification. Hic. “He said it was a special recipe, didn’t he? Oh, dear, this is embarrassing.” Hic.

James shook his head, not sure whether to be amused or angry. “Heaven knows what was in that punch, but apparently it was quite spiritous.” He smelled the dregs in the glass in her hand, and recoiled at the powerful scent. “Yes, quite.”

As Julia hiccupped again, looking shocked, James decided to feel amused. Anger could wait until later, when he could get his hands on Freddie Pellington. What had that silly ass been thinking, giving spirits to a lady? James remembered dimly that Pellington had mentioned once giving brandy to a baby, so he supposed he shouldn’t be all that surprised. But still, the situation called for quick action.

“We’ve got to get you home before someone notices your, ah, condition,” he explained, helping Julia to rise. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

She nodded her assent, but leaned against him bonelessly when he started to move, and he realized they needed to leave the ballroom at once. Making his way with her toward the door, he signaled to a footman and asked to have his carriage brought round.

“Stay here,” he admonished Julia, propping her against a wall. She nodded sleepily.

He looked doubtfully at her lolling head. How were they going to get out of here without anyone noticing her condition? He coaxed, “I will tell your aunt Estella to give you all the breakfast you want in the morning if you can pick your head up and smile normally at everyone who goes by for the next three minutes.”

It was the right thing to say. Instantly Julia’s head snapped up, and her eyes flew open. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it. Ham, eggs, porridge — if her cook can make it, you can eat it. Now, stay right here and just nod and smile if anyone speaks to you. I am going to take our leave of Lord and Lady Alleyneham, and I’ll leave a message for your aunt.”

She nodded her comprehension, but he still felt skeptical about her ability to hold herself up, and he dispatched his errands with his host and hostess as quickly as he could. He found Lady Irving herself, too, playing whist with friends in the very card room he had left several hours before. Her bright violet turban was upended on the table next to her to hold her winnings, denuded of its plumes, which she had stuck down into her bodice for safekeeping.

On receiving his assurance that Julia was “just tired,” she nodded distractedly and said she would be home later, if he would just send the carriage back for her. He left the room accompanied by her gleeful shouts, her friends’ groans, and the bobbing of those blasted plumes as she reached forward to rake in another pile of winnings and, crowing with triumph, drop them coin by coin into the turban.

Swiftly, he made his way back to Julia, finding her just as he had left her. “I was wonderful,” she assured him, wobbling slightly as she pushed herself upright, away from the wall. “I smiled at everyone and no one suspected a thing.”

“That’s excellent,” he soothed, and retrieving her wrap from a waiting servant, he led her away from the crowds and out into the blessed coolness and quiet of the night air. The sounds of gaiety receded behind them as they left the house, and the slam of the carriage door shut them into a silent world.

James breathed a sigh of relief at their just-in-time exit from the party before becoming uncomfortably aware that, despite his vow to keep his distance, he was alone with Julia.

In a closed carriage.

At night.

And she was tipsy.

Oh, Lord.