Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

And she supposed it wasn’t such a social necessity that she see James. . but she missed him, anyway. He was a necessity to her. Even though she’d promised to look for a husband, she thought about him more than she cared to tell anyone. It felt like a secret she ought to keep, even though she couldn’t think of the last time she’d kept a secret, especially from Louisa. The knowledge of her hidden fixation preoccupied her, putting a feeling of distance between her and Louisa.

So passed the remainder of January, and the grayness of February. The weeks flew quickly, and Julia could recall little of them after they had passed. The delivery of the first batch of Oiseau dresses was, perhaps, Julia’s favorite day of that time. She realized it was probably very shallow and vain of her to enjoy them so much, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never had such beautiful clothes before in her life, and while the thought that they were only just beginning the season, after having been in town for two months, was daunting — well, it helped a bit to think of getting to wear her lovely new gowns.

At the end of February, Charissa Bradleigh excitedly called to tell Julia that there would be a ball at Alleyneham House in a few weeks, to begin the intense and unrelenting whirl of gaiety that made up the London season.

“Lord, it’s going to be absolutely amazing!” the young aristocrat exclaimed. “We’ve never had a ball so early in the season, but I suppose Papa and Mama are keen on getting us married off this year. They’ve been planning this one almost since the last one was over with.”

She laughed unconcernedly. “What care I why, though? A ball is a ball, am I right? Except this one will be grander than any we’ve ever had before. Why, everyone who’s anyone will be there.”

“Really?” Julia replied with interest. She couldn’t help herself; she just had to ask. “You’ll be inviting. . say. . Viscount Matheson?”

“Oh, good heavens, of course!” Charissa replied cheerfully. “I expect we’ll be inviting about four hundred people or so; maybe even more. So he’ll be included, I’m certain.” She smiled insinuatingly. “He is a handsome gentleman, isn’t he? I’m sorry he’s engaged, but that doesn’t stop a girl from looking!”

Julia realized she’d blundered, and hastened to cover her mistake. “Er — of course, he’s a nice-looking man. I mean, I haven’t really thought about it, but I suppose he is. But, you know, he’s marrying Louisa, and so of course, if we’re to go, then I wanted to make sure he would be there. For her sake. Since, um, she feels better when he’s around.”

And so do I, she thought, but she certainly wasn’t going to say that to her friend. She’d already said more than enough.

Fortunately Charissa wasn’t of a contemplative turn of mind, and she cheerfully agreed that she supposed Louisa would like having James with her.

“After all,” she dimpled, “I rather like having him around myself. I know he’s hands-off, no-touching,” she assured Julia, “but he’s nice to look at, and so witty, I declare!” This drove her into a peal of giggles.

Julia tried to share her friend’s laughter, but it felt false. Charissa’s words woke all sorts of feelings that she’d tried to quash over the past weeks. She ached with the desire to talk more about James, and the pain of the knowledge that she shouldn’t.

So instead, she asked Charissa all about the ball, and the earl’s daughter happily prattled about the decorations, the food, the number of extra servants they would have to take on for the evening, the sad crush — also known as a social triumph — that it was sure to be.

As her friend talked on, eventually, Julia’s discomfort began to melt away. Charissa’s excitement was so vivid and contagious that she couldn’t help beginning to share it. After all, the ball at Alleyneham House had been a turning point in Louisa’s life less than a year before. Now she would have a chance to attend the same type of event, only — if Charissa could be believed — even larger, grander, more exciting, more elaborate, more everything.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be a turning point for her as well. Somehow.

“Please sit still, mademoiselle Julia, or I will burn your ears off with the curling tongs.”

Julia sighed and tried once again to hold still. It wasn’t the first time Simone had admonished her to stop squirming. Though she didn’t think the capable maid would really burn her, she didn’t want even so much as a single singed curl tonight.

Tonight, of all nights, she had to be absolutely perfect in every regard, for tonight was the grand ball at Alleyneham House.

The very thought of it made her insides quiver, as if her stomach were full of butterflies — or perhaps something less pleasant, like snakes.

Despite her best intentions, her fingers began to tap again. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to find a comfortable seated position.

Simone sighed theatrically and drew back her hands, saving mademoiselle’s ears once again from a tragic burn.

“I’m sorry!” Julia cried. “I’m just rather nervous, I suppose.” She hadn’t been able to eat anything since breakfast, and her head spun with jittery fatigue.

Simone frowned at her charge. “And why is this?” asked the maid skeptically in her lilting accent. “Have you not been to a ball before?”

“Of course I have,” Julia replied, biting her lip. “But this one is special.”

Simone continued to stare at Julia with expectant raised brows, and Julia tried to think of an appropriate explanation.

Louisa met James at Alleyneham House last year, and I want to meet someone like him at the ball this year. Because I want someone exactly like him. Him, in fact.

No, the truth would never do. But it weighed on her like an albatross, ill-fated and undeniable, sinking her mood. There was only one James, and he was already engaged. How could she go to a ball and dance with other men, encouraging them to desire her, court her, and marry her?

She didn’t know, but somehow she had to. She had promised she would. She had promised herself and her family, and even James.

“This ball will be such a grand event,” she managed at last. “So many glittering people. It’s practically the height of the season. I’m worried I’ll be a wallflower.”

Well, that part was true enough.

Simone seemed to accept this excuse. She abandoned the curling tongs and poked a pearl-headed pin into a coil of Julia’s hair.

“I find that to be unlikely,” she replied. “Certainly the viscount and the baronet Sir Stephen will dance with you.”

“Certainly,” Julia agreed miserably. So what if they did? She was still a fool, living a lie that could only hurt herself and her family. A stupid, simple, country fool.

The full import of the event hit her suddenly, with all the impact of a runaway coach and four. What was she doing, anyway, hoping to ensnare wealthy men at a ton party? She, Julia Herington, didn’t belong with the likes of the Earl and Countess of Alleyneham. She belonged in the nursery at Stonemeadows Hall, reading her young sisters and brother a story.

She felt as if her tight bodice was squeezing the air out of her chest, preventing her from drawing breath. She doubled over, light-headed, and moaned.

“You are disarranging your gown,” Simone informed her calmly. “You will not appear your best if you do not sit up straight at once.”

It wasn’t exactly a sympathetic statement, but it was as sobering as a bucket of cold water. Julia sat bolt upright and allowed Simone’s clever fingers to tuck and pull the fabric of her gown back into order.

She noticed these deft movements only vaguely. Her mind still spun ahead to the inevitable consequences of her stupidity. She’d fail to find a husband; her parents’ money would be wasted. She would have to return home and would languish away, an intolerable burden on her family for the remainder of her life. Unless she could somehow persuade Louisa and James to take her in at Nicholls.

Perhaps she could serve as governess for their children.

“I feel sick,” she whispered. Her vision grew dark around the edges.

Simone grasped her shoulders and shook her. “Look at me.”

She waited to continue until she had fixed Julia’s wide gaze with her own sloe eyes. “Breathe deeply, mademoiselle. Calm yourself and do not think these things that are bothering you. Are you or are you not Lady Irving’s niece?”

“Yes,” Julia replied automatically. “Well, only by marriage, but technically, yes. I believe she thinks of me as a niece. I think of her as an aunt, after all.”

Simone ignored this babbled explanation. “Then you will do nothing wrong. If you appear confident as does your aunt, everyone will believe you are so, and no person will question what you do.”

She paused for a moment, then admitted, “That is not perfectly correct. Your aunt does some things a young lady should not. But still you should be calm. Think of how your sister always appears, so possessed of herself.”

Julia breathed in and out, slowly, concentrating on the movement of air through her lungs. Simone was right. Why should everyone be watching her to see how she behaved? If they were, they would take their cue from her own demeanor. They would assume that she was fashionable and confident and eager, and that her heart was as untouched as her body.

Suddenly Simone’s final sentence sank into her consciousness. “Simone, where’s Louisa? Why hasn’t she been in to join us yet? Doesn’t she need your help, too?”