Swept Away

“Oh, my,” Phoebe said, also sitting down with a plop. “I cannot imagine how you pulled that off. I was terrified when he walked into the room.”

“Do you think he knew me?” Julia asked anxiously. “I couldn’t see him. Did any expression of recognition cross his face?”

“No. He seemed only—well, appalled—whenever he looked at you. Oh, Julia!” Hysterical laughter bubbled up from Phoebe’s throat. “Julia, you cannot imagine how you looked! Your eyes so huge and blurred, like a frog’s.”

“Well, thank you very much,” Julia tried for an indignant tone, but laughter broke through.

“And that cap!” Phoebe let out a peal of laughter. “How did you ever think of it so quickly? I am sure he didn’t know whether you were a housemaid or a—a—”

“Giant frog in a dress?” Julia suggested.

They both laughed, unable to restrain themselves, relief from the last few minutes’ strain making them giddy. Phoebe described each expression that had chased across Lord Stonehaven’s face at Julia’s words, her imitations making Julia howl with laughter. It took some time before their hysteria died down into chuckles and then into sighs and, finally, silence.

“Well…” Julia said at last, rising. “I suppose I had better return these to Mrs. Willett and try to make amends with her.”

“I am sure the poor woman thinks you have gone quite mad.”

“No doubt. Ah, well, hopefully I will be able to think up an adequate story.” She stood up and started toward the door, but then stopped as a new thought hit her. “Oh, no! I daren’t see him tonight, as I had planned. Not so soon after this.”

“No. You’d best give him a few days to forget Miss Armiger’s features,” Phoebe agreed.

Julia sighed, a little surprised at how disappointed she felt. But then, she reminded herself, it was only natural—merely an indication of how eager she was to bring Lord Stonehaven to justice.

Julia let three days pass before she went again to Madame Beauclaire’s, but she found it difficult to wait. By the time the evening came around, she was fairly champing at the bit, eager to go.

She was wearing another one of Phoebe’s dresses tonight, again with a let-out hem and the modest fichu of lace at the neckline ripped out. It was a gauzy dress in a color the modiste had termed “sea foam green.” Though it did not have the tighter-fitting skirt of the dress she had worn the last time, its flowing lines clung to Julia’s slender form, and the low neckline was enough, she thought, to spark any man’s interest. Besides, it was a color that looked perfect with her auburn hair.

Tonight she returned to Madame Beauclaire’s without her cousin’s company. Geoffrey would balk, she knew, at escorting her a second time and would probably ask all sorts of awkward questions. Besides, having been there before, she did not need him now. As few women as she had seen there, she felt relatively sure that the doorman would recognize her as a customer.

Nor did she take her own carriage. It would have been handy, of course, to have Nunnelly waiting outside to take her home, but it might also interfere with her plans. Last week it had turned out very well when Lord Stonehaven had walked her out to find her a hackney. And there was always the danger that Nunnelly might balk at her going into a gaming house. Loyal as he was, he had known her since she was a toddler and had no hesitation about speaking his mind to her. He was also much too likely to give her orders, having grown accustomed to it, she thought, when he taught her to ride when she was a child. He was quite willing to break the law for her sake—he had never quailed at the thought of abducting Stonehaven—but she felt sure that he would refuse to let her put herself into a situation that might damage her reputation.

So she went to Madame Beauclaire’s in a hackney, the nerves in her stomach tying themselves into an ever-expanding knot. As she had expected, the footman at the door let her in after one quick glance, bowing deeply. She suspected that he could have said with whom she had left the other night, as well. Plying her fan to hide her nerves, she strolled along the hall, glancing into the rooms on either side.

Lord Stonehaven was not there.

Disappointed, she strolled desultorily through the tables, stopping to observe a game now and then. At one of the tables, the name Stonehaven caught her ear, and she stopped short, every nerve alert.

“What?” one of the men at the table was saying, glancing toward one of his companions. “Oh, Stonehaven, yes—no, I haven’t seen him tonight. Odd, he’s been here every night this week, it seems.”

“Yes. I’ve never known him to be so gambling mad.”

Julia turned away, smiling to herself. Gambling mad, was he? She, too, knew that it was not his custom to attend Madame Beauclaire’s or any other establishment that frequently. If he had been coming in every night, she could not help but believe that it had been because he was hoping to find her there. She had, after all, hinted that he could find her there when she had refused to give him her address.

Buoyed by this knowledge, she was able to sit down at one of the gaming tables with a suitably casual air and enter into play. He would come, she knew. Lord Stonehaven was not the sort of man to give up.

It was thirty minutes later that a masculine voice said behind her, “I see you have switched your allegiance. Not dipping too deeply, I hope.”

Julia turned, a smile blazing across her face. He had come!

“Lord Stonehaven.” She realized that she had probably looked too eager to see him. It never did to let a man realize that one was interested in him, and of course he would be bound to think that her broad smile was from pleasure at seeing him, not triumph that he had walked into her web. She schooled her voice to something slightly warmer than indifference. “So you are here again. I had wondered if I would see you tonight.”

“I came in the hopes of finding you here, Miss Nunnelly.”

He flashed his charming smile at her, and Julia’s eyes were drawn to his lips, full and wide against strong white teeth. She had forgotten exactly how handsome he was up close. She moved toward him.

“I hope I am not taking you away from a lucky streak,” he said. “Would you like to stay?”

“What? Oh.” She glanced back at the table, a little surprised to find that she had stepped away from it. “No. I was about to leave. My luck has been uniformly bad this evening.”

“I hope it was not bad luck to run into me again.”

She cast him a sparkling look. “No. I would not say it was bad.”

He looked down at her, and his eyes narrowed briefly. Fear slammed through Julia. His look was…almost suspicious.

“What?” she asked in a falsely light tone. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh.” He looked abashed. “I don’t know. I had the oddest sensation for an instant—as if I had seen you before.”

Julia forced herself to smile impishly, although her mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Indeed, sir, I do believe you have seen me before. We met here five nights ago, if I remember correctly.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, I am quite aware of that. No, I meant that you reminded me of someone else. A certain look, the way you tilted your head—but that, of course, is absurd. There is no other woman as beautiful as you.”

His words made her feel as if a tight band were encircling her chest, squeezing hard, but she managed to say, “A pretty compliment, my lord.”

“But heartfelt.” He seemed to dismiss the matter as they strolled out into the hallway. There he stopped and glanced around, then looked back at her. “I find I do not wish to stay here. Would you care to—go somewhere else?”

“I—what do you mean, my lord?” Was he suggesting that they go to his house?

Julia felt suddenly panicky. She realized that in all her thinking about how to lead him on, what to do or say in order to get him to confess, she had not really given any thought as to where it would be accomplished. She had hazily imagined them sitting in a garden or strolling along the street or something of the sort. Where did one go on assignations? She could see that her education was woefully lacking in this area. Going to a gentleman’s house would be unthinkable for a lady, but, of course, it would be entirely different for a woman of loose morals, such as she was pretending to be. That was exactly the sort of compromising position a woman such as that would get into. Still, it seemed to her that things were moving much too fast. She really did not want to be alone with Lord Stonehaven in his home.

“I thought we had agreed to cease all this ‘my lord’ing,” he told her. “My name is Deverel.”

“Yes, of course…Deverel.”

“I hadn’t really thought of where we would go. I simply realized that I would like very much not to play cards tonight. I would much rather spend the evening talking with you.”

“I have no objection to that,” Julia replied a little breathlessly.

“I have a friend whose house is always open to visitors. Actually, it is the house of a…woman of his acquaintance.”

“His mistress,” Julia replied knowledgeably. There were few ladies who did not know that gentlemen frequently made such arrangements.

Stonehaven’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “You are dangerously blunt. Yes. It is the house of his mistress, but he is nearly always there, and many of his friends, as well as her friends, of course.”

“I see.” It was not exactly a bawdy house where women of the night plied their trade, Julia thought, but it must be just a step above that—the house where a man kept his light-o’-love, and he and his friends went to drink and talk and flirt with other women who were equally free with their favors. Julia supposed she ought to be appalled at the thought of going to such a place, but instead she found herself filled with curiosity. She had never actually met a kept woman, let alone been in one’s house.

“Yes,” she continued, flashing him what she hoped was a beckoning look. “That sounds much better than staying here.”