quickly came up with an excuse to explain why they had been arguing. “I spent too much on clothes. Nearly a hundred pounds.”
Lord Bromwell gave Sir Douglas a puzzled look. “Why, that’s nothing. I should think you could afford ten times that.”
“I wasn’t quarreling about the amount, which is trivial,” Sir Douglas smoothly lied. “I was trying to make her see that she should have spent more. Madame de Malanche will be telling people I’m a miser.”
Lord Bromwell sighed with relief, and he smiled at Juliette. “That may seem a large sum to you, Miss Bergerine, but truly, Drury would hardly have noticed if you’d spent twice that.”
“One benefit of having a father with a head for business,” the barrister noted.
“Oh, and I’ve brought company for dinner!” Lord Bromwell said, as if he’d just remembered.
Company? She was to have to act a well-to-do lady in company? How could he do such a thing?
A swift glance at Sir Douglas told her he was no more pleased than she, especially when a young couple came into the room.
The woman was no great beauty, but her clothes were fine and fashionable, in the very latest style, and her smile warm and pleasant. The gentleman was likewise well and fashionably attired. His hair, however, looked as if he’d just run his fingers through it to stand it on end, or else he’d been astride a galloping horse without his hat.
“Lady Francesca, may I present Miss Juliette Bergerine,” Lord Bromwell said as Sir Douglas moved toward the window, his hands once more behind his back. “Miss Bergerine, this is Lady Francesca and her husband, the Honorable Brixton Smythe-Medway.”
“Please, you must call me Fanny,” the young woman said.
It took a mighty effort, but Juliette managed not to glance at Sir Douglas before she made a little curtsy.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” she lied.
Although the food was excellent and plentiful—including such delicacies as salmon, which she had never tasted before, and something called a tart syllabub, which was very rich and very good—the dinner was a nerve-racking experience for Juliette. Fortunately, she managed to get through it without making many mistakes by carefully watching and imitating the others, not touching a piece of cutlery or crystal glass until they did.
She also took care not to wolf down the excellent food as if she hadn’t eaten in days, but was used to such cuisine.
And the wine! Mon Dieu, how the wine flowed! Yet she made sure she only sipped, and never finished a glass. She had to keep her wits about her.
The merry Mr. Smythe-Medway was very amusing, but she quickly realized there was a shrewd intelligence behind those green eyes. As for his wife, she seemed sweet and charming, but the test would be how she behaved when there were no men present. As Juliette had learned in the shop, women could be completely different then.
Juliette was so concerned with not making any mistakes, she took no part in the conversation. She doubted anyone noticed, for Mr. Smythe-Medway seemed quite capable and willing to entertain them.
His wife was just as quick-witted, if more subdued, and even Sir Douglas gave proof of a dry wit that made his friendship with the loquacious Smythe-Medway a little more understandable.
After what seemed an age, Lady Fanny rose and led Juliette to the drawing room, leaving the men to their brandy and, Juliette supposed, manly conversation. She couldn’t help wondering what they would say about her and desperately hoped she hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I must say I’m even more impressed with your courage now that I’ve seen you, my dear,” Lady Fanny said as she sat on a sofa and gestured for Juliette to sit, too. The flowing Pomona green skirt of her high-waisted gown spread out beautifully, and the delicate pearl necklace she wore, although simple, looked lovely against her slender throat. “I was expecting quite an Amazon, not a petite woman like you.”
What exactly had Sir Douglas and Lord Bromwell said about her and what had happened? Juliette wondered as she lowered herself onto the sofa opposite, her back straight, her hands in her lap, a part of her mind sorry Madame de Malanche hadn’t had an evening gown ready for her to wear, too. Was Lady Fanny referring to the attack in the alley, or a robbery on the road?
“I was not so brave. It was very frightening,” she prevaricated, thinking that answer would suit either situation.
“Drury and Buggy told us all about what you did for him. Potatoes! I would never have thought of that. Indeed, I think I would have been frozen stiff with fear.”
The reality then. “I saw a man being attacked, and I went to his aid.”
“And now we must come to yours. I’m very glad Buggy came up with this plan, and we shall do everything we can to help.”
“Merci,” Juliette murmured, wondering how this coddled English creature could be of assistance against evil men trying to harm her, or Sir Douglas. “I hope my presence here will not cause a scandal.”
Lady Fanny laughed, and although her laugh was sweet and musical, Juliette still couldn’t see what attracted Sir Douglas to Lady Fanny. To be sure, she was pretty, in a very English way, and seemed kind and good-natured, but she was so… bland. So boring.
Perhaps that was what he liked about her. She would never argue with him, or demand his attention, or likely question a single thing he did. She would be, Juliette supposed, a demure, obedient little wife.
“I wouldn’t be too concerned about our reputations,” Lady Fanny replied. “Buggy was considered quite eccentric until his book became a success, and as for Drury’s reputation…”
Lady Fanny paused a moment before continuing, her cheeks a slightly deeper shade of pink. “I’m referring to his legal reputation. He’s quite famous for his successes. He could have been a barrister of the King’s Bench and possibly a judge by now, yet he remains at the Old Bailey. He prefers to represent the poor.”
The arrogant, wealthy Sir Douglas Drury cared about the plight of the poor? Juliette found that difficult to believe.
“In some ways, Drury’s had a very difficult life.”
She found that hard to believe, too. “But he is titled and educated and rich.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s never known pain, or heartache. His father spent most of his time on business ventures, and his mother—”
“Ah, ladies, here you are, and looking as lovely as a painting,” Mr. Smythe-Medway declared as he sauntered into the room, followed by Lord Bromwell and a darkly inscrutable Sir Douglas.
Why did they have to interrupt now? Juliette thought with dismay.
“I hope Fanny hasn’t been telling you she’s made a terrible mistake marrying me,” Mr. Smythe-Medway continued as he sat beside his wife on the sofa.
“Not likely.” Lord Bromwell smiled as he settled in an armchair. “She’s had years to learn all your bad traits, Brix, yet miraculously loves you just the same.”
Apparently
