naughty child provoking the adults. She imagined that it might be exciting to provoke Martin Davencourt and to see how deep that calm self-control actually went. Or perhaps not. There was something about him that suggested it might actually be rather dangerous to push him too far.
He smiled at her gently. ‘I realise that I am in the wrong place,’ he said, ‘but perhaps you are, too. Take my advice, Lady Juliana, and cut loose of all this. Everyone has to grow up some time. Even a lady rakehell, such as you profess to be.’
Juliana laughed. ‘Is that what you think me? That I am a rake?’
‘The role is not necessarily confined to the male of the species. Is it not the reputation that you cultivate?’
Juliana shrugged. ‘Reputations may be exaggerated.’
Martin Davencourt inclined his head. ‘True. They may also be encouraged.’
A crash from upstairs made both of them jump. Emma Wren’s voice rose to a crescendo. The door to the servants’ quarters thudded open and a couple of frightened-looking maids scurried up the stairs.
‘Time to leave,’ Juliana said. ‘I fear that Emma is cross with me tonight. A refusal to join in the game so often offends, does it not?’ She smiled. ‘But I do not need to tell you that, do I, Mr Davencourt? You strike me as a man quite happy to cause offence by refusing to conform.’
‘I play by my own rules,’ Martin Davencourt said. ‘One cannot allow someone else to dictate the game.’ He threw her an appraising glance. ‘In that sense I do believe we are two of a kind, Lady Juliana.’
Juliana laughed. ‘If that is so, then I think it must be the only thing we have in common, sir.’
Martin Davencourt tilted his head enquiringly. ‘Are you sure of that?’
Juliana raised her brows. ‘How could it be otherwise? You are staid and orthodox and ever so slightly shocked at the company you find yourself in.’
Martin laughed. ‘You have divined a great deal about me in a short acquaintance.’
Juliana shrugged. ‘I can read a man at thirty paces.’
‘I see. And yourself? You were about to make some observation about your own character, I infer.’
‘Oh, well, I am unorthodox and rebellious and—’
‘Wild?’ There was an ironic inflection in Martin Davencourt’s voice, as if such qualities were scarcely admirable. Juliana shrugged carelessly.
‘We are chalk and cheese, Mr Davencourt. No, on second thoughts, not. Cheese can be quite delicious. Wine and water? You remind me of flat champagne. So much potential wasted.’
She heard Martin take a careful breath. She could not see him clearly but she could hear the repressed amusement in his voice.
‘Lady Juliana, are you always so rude to chance acquaintances?’
‘Invariably,’ Juliana said. ‘But this is nothing to how I can be, I assure you. I am being nice to you.’
‘I believe you.’ Martin’s tone changed. ‘You should think twice before you indulge in these games, Lady Juliana. One day you will take on more than you can deal with.’
There was a pause.
‘I do not think so,’ Juliana said coldly. ‘I can take care of myself.’
She saw a smile touch the corner of Martin Davencourt’s mouth. His gaze swept over her slowly, thoughtfully, from head to toe. It lingered on the tumbled auburn curls that framed her face and on the freckles across the bridge of her nose. It considered the curve of her waist and the dainty slippers that peeped from under the hem of her gown. He did not make any move towards her and yet Juliana felt strangely vulnerable. A deep, disturbing sense of awareness swept over her, leaving her breathless. She wrapped the cloak closer about her, her fingers clenching at her neck in an attempt to conceal the flimsy aquamarine dress. Ridiculous, when Martin Davencourt and many others had seen her stark naked only an hour before, and yet she suddenly had an intense desire to shroud herself in as many layers as possible.
‘Are you sure?’ Martin Davencourt spoke softly and his searching blue gaze held hers relentlessly. ‘Are you sure you can take care of yourself?’
Juliana cleared her throat, her fingers tightening unconsciously on the cloak. ‘Of course I am sure! I live alone and do as I please, and have been doing so since I was three and twenty.’
Martin Davencourt straightened up. He was smiling. ‘That sounds like a mantra, Lady Juliana. The sort of thing that if you repeat it often enough you start to believe it. So if it is true that you are a…hardened lady rakehell, it is strange that on occasion you should look like a frightened schoolgirl.’
Juliana felt a shiver go through her. She did not like his observation. It accorded too closely with what she had seen earlier in the mirror. ‘It is a very useful accomplishment, I assure you,’ she said flippantly. ‘The gentlemen find it fascinating that I am able to play the innocent. Many a Cyprian has asked me how I manage it. I believe they charge a great deal for false virtue.’
She saw the expression in Martin’s eyes harden. ‘You are very cool, I will say that for you, Lady Juliana. Nevertheless, I am offering a word of advice. If you proposition a gentleman, be sure that you are prepared to deliver on your promise. Otherwise it brands you a cheat.’
Once again Juliana felt a rush of annoyance. ‘Two pieces of advice in one evening,’ she said, in honeyed tones. ‘You should charge for your opinions, Mr Davencourt. You might make a fortune. Then again…’ she pulled a face ‘…perhaps not. You are not very interesting.’
Martin Davencourt laughed. ‘You used to be such a sweet girl, Lady Juliana. Whatever happened to you?’
Juliana paused, looking at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Are you trying to claim a previous acquaintance with me, Mr Davencourt?’
She saw the flash of Martin Davencourt’s teeth in the darkness as he laughed. ‘I am not trying to claim anything, Lady Juliana. I suppose you do not remember our previous meeting. Let me remind you. We met at Ashby Tallant, by the pool under the willows on those long hot summer days. You were fourteen years old and a very sweet and unspoilt child. Whatever happened to change that?’
Juliana turned away. ‘I expect I grew up, Mr Davencourt. I would like to say that I remember you, too, but I do not.’ She raised a brow. ‘I wonder why that would be?’
Martin Davencourt held her gaze for a long moment and Juliana found herself fidgeting under his scrutiny, her cheeks growing hot. She was about to burst into speech, any speech, to ease the discomfort of that moment, when she heard the sound of the clatter of hooves on the cobbles as the coach was brought round. Seldom had she felt so relieved to escape a situation.
‘Oh! My carriage, I think.’
Martin smiled. ‘How timely. Enabling you to run away yet again, Lady Juliana.’ He held the door open for her courteously. ‘Goodnight.’
He followed her out through the door and with a negligent wave of the hand he strolled away down the street.
Juliana paused, staring
