smiled. “Of course—that is, I mean…” She turned toward Mrs. Thrall. “If you will permit it, madam.”
“Of course, of course.” Mrs. Thrall bared her teeth in a smile so wide it was almost frightening. “We would be honored for you to visit our house.” She told him the address, adding with a deprecating titter, “Not the most fashionable address, I fear. “Tis Clementine’s first Season, you know, and I did not realize how far in advance one must let a house to obtain a truly good address.”
“I am sure that the presence of such fair ladies makes any place fashionable,” Nicholas replied diplomatically.
Clementine and her mother simpered at this remark, and Juliana was aware of a strong and no doubt childish resentment. Nicholas was hers, she wanted to cry out.
But, of course, that was absurd. Nicholas was not, could not be, hers.
Nicholas took his leave of them, with a bow and impartial smile to them all. As soon as he was out of sight, Clementine and her mother swung to Juliana.
“You did not tell me you knew Lord Barre!” Mrs. Thrall exclaimed, her tone a mixture of accusation and delight.
“I was not sure he would remember me,” Juliana replied. “It has been many years since we have seen one another.”
“But how do you know him?” Clementine pressed, moving closer to Juliana and turning her back rudely on the young man who stood with them.
“We were friends as children,” Juliana explained. “I…lived near his family.” It was, she thought, too complicated to explain the relationship between them, and, moreover, she had little desire to expose her history to their curiosity.
“It is generous of him to seek you out,” Mrs. Thrall went on, unaware, as she usually was, of the rudeness of her words.
Juliana, accustomed to the petty stings of being employed as a companion, ignored the disdain inherent in the other woman’s words. “He is a generous man,” she allowed dryly.
“Of course, he doubtless wanted to meet Clementine,” the older woman went on placidly, explaining the oddity of a nobleman acknowledging someone of as little status as Juliana. “It is quite fortuitous, really, that he knew you and could gain an introduction.”
Juliana swallowed her anger, looking away from her employer. She reminded herself that Mrs. Thrall was a woman of little sense and a deficient upbringing. She did not mean to be rude and hurtful—frankly, Juliana thought, she did not consider Juliana’s feelings enough to intend to hurt her—and she did not know what she was talking about. Nicholas had come over because he was glad to see her, not because he wanted to meet Mrs. Thrall’s daughter.
But as the evening wore on and Juliana watched Clementine flirt with her bevy of admirers, and take to the floor time and again to dance, her certainty began to erode. The girl was obviously devastatingly appealing to men, whereas she herself…
She looked down at her plain dark gown and sighed. She was dressed like a governess, her hair pinned into a plain knot. A companion was not paid to attract attention—especially in this case, where Mrs. Thrall would have squelched any semblance of a beauty that might compete with her own daughter. How could any man’s eyes not be drawn to Clementine rather than to her?
CHAPTER TWO
JULIANA FOUND HERSELF brooding over the matter the rest of the evening. She did not believe that Nicholas had merely used her to get an introduction to Clementine. But she was realistic enough to think that he must have noticed the girl’s beauty when he was introduced to her. Nor could she help but wonder if his desire to call on her had as much or more to do with Clementine’s appeal as with his friendship with Juliana.
It wasn’t that she thought Nicholas was interested in her in a romantic way, she told herself. She had long ago given up those girlhood dreams. She was a grown woman and well aware that she did not even know the man; all she had known was the boy. But he had been very dear to her at one time; it hurt to think that his motivation for calling upon her might be only interest in the silly but beautiful Clementine.
All the way home, Mrs. Thrall and her daughter pelted Juliana with questions about the handsome and highly eligible Lord Barre. How old was he? Did he have a London residence? Was he as wealthy as everyone said?
“He is thirty-one. But as to the rest, I really don’t know,” Juliana replied, gritting her teeth. “We did not speak about any of those things while we were dancing. And I have not seen him since we were young.”
“They say he is fabulously wealthy,” Clementine said, her eyes shining.
“I heard that he made a fortune in the China Trade,” Mrs. Thrall said. “Not an occupation for a gentleman, of course, but, then, his lineage is impeccable.”
“And the fortune is great,” Juliana murmured.
“Exactly,” Mrs. Thrall agreed, nodding her head, blissfully unaware of any sarcasm in Juliana’s words.
“I heard he made his money in smuggling during the War,” Clementine put in. “Sarah Thurgood says her aunt told her that he was a spy, as well.”
“Did she say for which side?” Juliana asked.
“No one knows,” Clementine told her, her eyes wide. “He is reputed to be a very dangerous man.”
“Very wild in his youth,” Mrs. Thrall added knowledgeably.
“He has been much maligned,” Juliana started hotly. This was the sort of statement she had heard about Nicholas from the time she met him.
“Everyone says…” Clementine began.
“Everyone doesn’t know him!” Juliana snapped.
“Really, Juliana…” Mrs. Thrall gave her a dark look.
Juliana stifled her anger. Her quick tongue was what had most often gotten her into trouble as a paid companion. It had been a hard lesson, but over the years she had learned not to argue with her employers.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said now. “I did not mean to contradict you. It is just that I know Lord Barre has often been adjudged much more wicked than he really is.”
Mrs. Thrall smiled at her in a condescending way that made Juliana’s fingers curl into fists in her lap. “You must take my word for it, my dear, as one who knows a bit more about the world than you—where there is smoke, there’s fire.”
Fortunately, Juliana’s ready sense of humor came to her rescue, overcoming her anger. The woman stated the old adage as if she were imparting the greatest wisdom.
“Of course,” Juliana choked out, and pressed her lips together to keep from chuckling. What did it matter, anyway, what someone as foolish as Elspeth Thrall thought about Nicholas Barre?
She settled into her corner of the carriage, only half listening to Clementine chatter on about what dress she should wear on the morrow and what hairstyle would look best. When they reached the house, she went upstairs to her bedroom, a small, sparely furnished room at the end of the hallway closest to the servants’ stairs. As a genteel companion, she was not tucked away in an attic room with
