Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

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. .

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.

James shut his eyes in despair. Why? Why did this have to happen to him? Why should he be thrown into this situation — to have temptation rubbed in his face, practically? He tried to be a good person. He was a good person. Well, except for the whole loving-hisfiancée’s-sister thing.

His clothes felt uncomfortably tight and hot, and he shifted as far away from Julia as he could. Staring at the carriage floor, he pressed his lips together, determined not to speak. He would hold still and remain silent, for as long as it took. The ride would be short, and then it would be over and he would be out of danger once more.

But a snarl of carriages blocked their way, and James could hear the coachman shouting oaths at the other drivers whose masters and mistresses were still inside, not yet ready to leave the crush indoors to create one outdoors. He shook his head in despair. This would take a while.

Well, it didn’t matter how long it took. It could take seven years, and he would not speak. He would hold still. For as long as it took. Surely he was capable of that much.

Maybe if he thought it over and over again, it would become true.

“What’s wrong?” asked a soft voice from the other side of the carriage.

“Pardon?” Damn. He’d sworn not to speak. But he couldn’t ignore a direct question.

“I could see you shaking your head. Is something wrong?”

“Oh. No. The carriage has to wait before it can leave.”

“Oh,” Julia echoed. After a pause came her voice again. “Well, that’s all right, isn’t it? I like waiting with you.”

James felt even hotter, and he tugged at his neckcloth. “Err. .” was the only sound he could force out of his mouth. Not his finest reaction ever.

“Let me help,” said Julia, sliding toward him on the carriage seat. “I know you are very stylish, but there’s no need to be uncomfortable now that we’re alone. And it must be so scratchy to have that giant cloth around your neck all the time.” Small hands ministered to him, deftly undoing the intricate knots and folds of his neckcloth, and James groaned.

“Did I hurt you?” Julia asked, concerned. “Did I strangle you or something? I really didn’t mean to strangle you.”

“You didn’t,” James replied, his voice sounding very strangled indeed.

“Oh, good,” she said. With a laugh, she admitted, “I’ve never removed a gentleman’s clothes before.”

He cleared his throat and tried to speak, but no sound came out. He swallowed, then tried again. “Julia, that is not a proper comment for a young lady to make.”