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  “It’s all the gown,” she said with a laugh.

  “It is certainly not,” Gemma reassured her. She turned to Lady Woodley and Mr. Gray again. “Would you two allow me to steal Juliet away? My sister-in-law, Serafina, has been dying to meet her. I would be happy to make the introduction if it would not offend you, Lady Woodley.”

  “A fine idea,” Lady Woodley said.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Gray agreed. “And while you are doing that, perhaps you would like to join me in dancing the allemande, Lady Woodley?”

  Gemma linked arms with Juliet and began to lead her away, just as Juliet heard Lady Woodley laugh like a schoolgirl. “Jed, I have not danced an allemande since I was twenty-eight!”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Gemma said as she squeezed Juliet’s arm.

  Juliet couldn’t help but be charmed by the lady’s kindness. “Thank you, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Oh gracious, please call me Gemma,” Gemma insisted. “Our families are all so entangled now, it seems foolish to stand on ceremony. The Flynns have never been much for it. Come to think of it, neither have the Woodleys.”

  Juliet pursed her lips and tried not to point out that she was neither a Flynn nor a Woodley, nor would she ever be. There was no use being rude, especially to someone who was obviously so kind and welcoming.

  “There is Serafina,” Gemma said, pulling her forward.

  The crowd parted slightly and Juliet gasped. There, standing to the side of the ballroom, talking quietly to a servant, was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Lady Hartholm was tall and blonde, with bright blue eyes and a perfectly formed, utterly symmetrical face that in centuries past men would have fought wars over. This was the kind of woman who had brought down Troy with her beauty, who had ruled nations with just the crook of her finger.

  “She looks busy,” Juliet said, coming to a halt. “I wouldn’t want to bother her.”

  Gemma laughed. “She’s quite intimidating from a distance, isn’t she? But all that beauty on the outside is dwarfed by the beauty within. Come, you’ll see.”

  As they approached, the servant stepped aside and Juliet gasped again. Lady Hartholm was gigantically pregnant. And though there were many women in the villages who continued their lives right up until the birth of a child, she had never known a woman of title to do so. Pregnancy was something they hid, cursed. Yet here was this duchess, dressed beautifully, her pregnant belly obvious for all the world to see.

  “Serafina!” Gemma said. “I have found Miss Gray. Juliet, may I present the Duchess of Hartholm. My sister-in-law.”

  Juliet continued to gape, trying to think of the proper response. Then she blinked and curtsied. “Your-your Grace.”

  Serafina smiled and the already beautiful face grew even lovelier. “Oh dear, you mustn’t Your Grace me. And certainly don’t Your Grace Rafe if you meet him. He despises it more than anything. I’m so pleased to meet you, Miss Gray.”

  “Call her Juliet, she is too charming not to become a bosom friend,” Gemma ordered, elbowing Serafina gently.

  The duchess laughed and then tilted her head. “Would it offend you?”

  “Certainly not,” Juliet breathed.

  “Excellent, because from everything Mary and Gemma have told me, there is no way we can’t be friends. So you will call me Serafina unless tedious propriety demands otherwise. I’m so glad you’ve come.”

  Juliet blinked. Was this actually happening? Was she hobnobbing with the very upperest of the upper crust and it was easy and friendly? Was upperest even a word? She was so flustered, she couldn’t recall.

  “Thank you for having me,” she managed to croak out. “Your home is lovely.”

  “Yes,” Serafina looked around with a faint sadness to her smile. “It has grown on me over the years since my marriage. I wasn’t always so comfortable here.”

  Juliet lifted both brows. Serafina was so beautiful, she had a hard time believing she hadn’t felt at home everywhere she went. “But you belong here.”

  “Who is to say who belongs anywhere?” Serafina said with a laugh and a smile for Gemma. “I have seen people shunned by Society become my closest friends and watched those who claim to fit in fall with just a flit of a wrist or a whispered word. Belonging is about a feeling, not anything else.”

  Juliet pondered that a moment. She did not belong in this world; no one would argue that when they looked at her pedigree. And yet the Woodleys always made her feel welcome. Even Gabriel didn’t seem to judge her based on connection or title or lack thereof.

  “I can see what you mean,” she said softly.

  “How are you feeling?” Gemma asked Serafina.

  Serafina’s hand came down to rest on her swollen stomach. “Ready to pop,” she laughed.

  “Is this your first child?” Juliet asked.

  Serafina shook her head. “My second,” she said. “I’m trying to catch up with Gemma. She had her second son in the spring.”

  Juliet sent a side glance at Gemma, whose slim figure never would have revealed a thing. “Are you hoping for a boy or girl?” she asked.

  Serafina smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a little girl. Our son, little Crispin, was born three years ago. But I truly only want the baby to be healthy. For all of us to come out healthy.”

  A shadow crossed over Serafina’s face and Juliet tilted her head. “You are concerned? Was your first birth difficult?”

  “Not exceptionally,” Serafina said. “But…”

  Gemma reached out to take her hand. “Recently an acquaintance of ours and her newborn died in childbirth. They had the best doctor in London and yet nothing could be done.”

  Juliet nodded in understanding, for she had seen many births end in the same tragedy. “I see. But I’m sure you will be fine, Your Grace—Serafina.”

  Serafina took a long look at her. “Everyone speaks so highly of your abilities as a healer. Do you also act as midwife in Idleridge?”

  “I do, when I am asked to do so.”

  Serafina looked at Gemma again. “Would it be taking advantage of our very new friendship for me to ask if you might…if you would…”

  Juliet’s eyes went wide. “Are you asking me to help you with your birth?”

  “If you are still in London, yes,” Serafina said. “The doctor I have seen is so dismissive of my feelings. He even made some flippant comment about God knowing best if he were to take me or my child.”

  “Ugh!” Juliet said with a shake of her head. “They can be such clods sometimes. No bedside manner whatsoever.”

  “You see, you understand,” Serafina said with a heavy sigh. “I would feel so much better if you were there.”

  “Certainly,” Juliet reassured her. “I would be happy to be there and assist you. When do they estimate you will deliver?”

  “Just after Christmas,” Serafina said. “A new baby for a new year.”

  Juliet drew back. “Only a few weeks, then. I am surprised—” She cut herself off.

  But Serafina seemed to know the next words on her lips. “That I am hosting this party?”

  “I’m sorry, it was an impertinent thing to think or say,” Juliet said.

  “Not at all. Most women of my station would not do such a thing, I know, but I loathe sitting around doing nothing. We Flynns are nothing if not unconventional.”

  The duchess’s attention was drawn then to a spot behind Juliet, and Serafina’s face lit up. Juliet turned to find a very handsome man coming toward them. She might have been just as shocked by his beauty as she had been by that of her hostess, but she was more distracted by the person coming along with the handsome man.

  Gabriel. Gabriel in formal clothes, Gabriel striding toward her, his gaze locked on her. Gabriel, tempting as anything she had ever seen in her life.

  “Ladies,” the unknown gentleman said as he reached them. He moved to stand beside Serafina, slipped an arm around her waist and dropped a solid kiss on her lips.
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  Juliet’s eyes went wide at the public display of affection, but no one else in the group seemed to mark the action as odd.

  “My husband, the Duke of Hartholm,” Serafina said as the two broke apart. “This is Juliet Gray, Lady Woodley’s healer.”

  “Rafe,” the duke said, offering his hand to Juliet. “And you two remember Lord Gabriel, don’t you?” The other women nodded and greetings were murmured all around. Then Rafe’s attention returned to Juliet. “Did my wife ask you for a favor?”

  “To help with the baby’s arrival?” Juliet asked. “Indeed, and I am pleased to do it.”

  Relief washed over his features. “Wonderful. I will feel better knowing someone of such skill will be at her side.” He turned to face his wife again. “Now, my love, I would very much like to dance with you.”

  Serafina laughed. “Could you possibly get your arms around me in this condition?”

  He smiled at her and the love was so obvious between them that Juliet ducked her head so as not to intrude.

  “I will most earnestly try,” he said, taking her arm. He turned to Gemma. “And Gemma, Crispin was waiting for you on the terrace. He said something about an arrangement you two had.”

  Gemma’s face went red as a plum, but she grinned. “Yes, we did. I’ll talk to you all later.”

  She slipped away. Serafina turned to Gabriel and Juliet. “I hope you two enjoy the evening.”

  Then she and Rafe stepped toward the dance floor together. Juliet shifted, suddenly awkward at the idea of being alone with Gabriel after seeing such blatant expressions of the love the Flynns had for their spouses.

  “They are not what I expected,” she mused softly.

  Gabriel moved to stand beside her. “The Flynn love matches are renowned. Everyone talks about them.”

  She glanced up at him. “It flouts convention, though, doesn’t it?”

  He smiled. “From time to time, it seems that convention is meant to be flouted.” He held out a hand. “Would you like to dance, Juliet?”

  She stared at the outstretched hand, so strong and lean, with long fingers that had brought her such pleasure. Suddenly she felt her own desires were as exposed as the love between the Flynns. And yet, she couldn’t refuse this man. Not when he was so patiently awaiting her answer.

  “Very well,” she said softly, as she put her hand in his and allowed him to sweep her away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabriel had never much liked to dance. Although the repetitious science of it appealed to the scholar in him, the whole act had always seemed pointless. Get out on a floor in front of so many people and spin a girl around in a circle for somewhere between three and seven minutes? Ridiculous.

  But now, with Juliet’s hand in his, being able to touch her hip so intimately as they spun in time to the strains of the waltz in the distance…well, he didn’t hate it so much anymore. In fact, this moment was almost perfect. He could smell her hair, like fresh peaches. He was surrounded by her warmth. It was the next best thing to having her in his bed.

  “You are smiling,” she said, interrupting the troubling train of his wayward thoughts. “What will everyone think?”

  Normally such a statement would have dragged the smile from his face, but tonight he appreciated her teasing and the smile grew. It felt rather odd, of course, for he so rarely allowed it.

  “I have no idea. Perhaps they’ll think I’ve gone mad.”

  She laughed, and the sound was prettier than the music. “Perhaps.”

  He turned her once again, gazing into her blue eyes as he did so. “Or maybe they’ll all think I’m under your spell, Juliet.”

  She staggered a bit, and he held tight so she didn’t trip over her suddenly heavy feet. A blush filled her cheeks and her gaze darted away. Everything about her reactions was so pretty. And natural. She wasn’t playing with him, not like some women who wanted to be tied to his family fortune had plotted to do.

  The music ended and he pulled away from her. She was still blushing and as he took her arm, he realized half the room was staring at them. Staring at him. Including his mother and his brothers and sister.

  He’d gotten caught up somehow. Entirely against his character. And now he was the center of attention in a way he’d never felt before.

  He brought Juliet to the edge of the dance floor and released her immediately. What was he doing? He hated a ball. He hated dancing. He did not court. He needed to apply all his energy to the matter of finding Claire, not becoming tangled in the web of Juliet Gray.

  “Perhaps that display will keep any unwanted vultures away,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

  Still from the corner of his eye, he saw her frown. And even that was pretty. The action caused a tiny little wrinkle to form between her knitted brows. Why in the world did he notice such an odd detail?

  “Well, I thank you for that,” she murmured, taking a cue from him and moving a step away.

  But the act of her pulling back created a sudden and unexpected panic. His chest actually hurt as she separated from him, and a pulsing need to keep her near filled him.

  “Wait, Juliet—” he began.

  She stopped and met his gaze. “Yes?”

  “Er…”

  Now he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell her that he wanted her, could he? Especially since it was more than desire that was confusing him in that moment. What he really wanted to say was that he didn’t want to leave her. That he didn’t want those other men in the crowd to touch her. Or feel the warmth of her smile if she chose to bestow it upon them.

  “What is it, my lord?” she asked, reverting back to formality.

  He frowned. “I wondered if you might meet with me tomorrow. At my mother’s?”

  There was a moment when her expression changed slightly and he thought he saw…pain in her face. Then she brushed it aside and the expression became more placid. “Yes, of course,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “I need a bit of help with our project.”

  She smiled faintly. “Oh, is it our project now?”

  He realized what that statement implied, but refused to analyze it. Funny, since analysis was always his strong point.

  “Why not?”

  She nodded. “Well, I would not refuse.”

  “After luncheon?” he suggested.

  “Yes. I will be certain I am available and send word if anything changes.”

  “Good.” He should back away now, but was finding it difficult.

  Apparently she didn’t. “Good night, Gabriel,” she said, then turned to walk away.

  “Good night,” he repeated softly, watching every step she took, every twitch of her hips beneath that utterly fetching gown.

  “Not that I disapprove, but would you care to tell me what you’re doing?” came a voice beside him.

  Gabriel jumped and turned to face Evan, who was somehow standing right at his elbow. “Why do you creep up on me?” he barked.

  Evan’s eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t creep. And I was nominated by our siblings to be the one to approach you.”

  “Nominated?” Gabriel repeated, casting a glance over his shoulder to where Audrey, Edward, Mary, Jude and Josie stood talking and staring at him. When they saw him look their way, they all cast their glances in various directions. “God, they are the worst.”

  Evan laughed. “They are terrible at subterfuge; I give you that.”

  “Why did they send you to me?” Gabriel asked, though he had a sinking feeling he knew why.

  “So you’re going to pretend innocence?” Evan folded his arms.

  Gabriel groaned. “What are you going on about?”

  “Very well, I can play this game. You and Juliet Gray. What is the situation there?”

  “There is no situation.” Gabriel cast his gaze away from his brother. Evan would see. Evan would know if Gabriel let him see.

  “You were smiling,” Evan said, inadvertent
ly repeating the teasing words Juliet had spoken and taking him back to that moment when they danced and the connection between them had felt so raw and powerful.

  “I smile,” Gabriel ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Not like that.” Evan leaned in. “I know you, Gabriel. Remember that. And I have never known you to enjoy dancing.”

  “Don’t be foolish, I wasn’t enjoying dancing. I asked Juliet to dance because I know she is not comfortable in this environment. She has told me many times she is not interested in seeking a husband here in London and I thought that if we seemed connected, perhaps it would keep unwanted suitors away.”

  As the words left his mouth, Gabriel knew they were both true and untrue. Oh, Juliet had told him she had no interest in wedding. He knew why. But he hadn’t danced with her out of altruistic kindness. He chased away suitors because the thought of some other man getting to touch her the way he touched her was actually physically painful.

  “Well, your grand plan doesn’t seem to have worked, then,” Evan said, motioning behind Gabriel.

  He turned and caught his breath at what he saw. Juliet stood at the edge of the dance floor and she was surrounded by men. Handsome men, titled men, men who held out drinks to her, men who were obviously trying to impress her. They all had interest in their eyes. Gabriel recognized it now where before he might not have. He saw the sparkling of lust in their stares. And he hated it.

  But he had no place to hate it. He had no cause to want to march over to her and start punching those men in the face like a barbarian. He had no reason to want to kiss her in this room full of fools as if to brand “mine” across her lips.

  “Well, it is none of my affair, is it?” he said, and forced himself to turn away from the scene before him. Even without looking though, he felt her presence behind him and could all but picture the attention she continued to garner.

  Evan paused before he spoke, and his brother’s brown eyes swept over him, seeking and seeing. Gabriel braced himself for a lecture or more pointed question, but instead Evan said, “No—no I suppose not. If you say so.”