Juliana had never seen Sophia look so beautiful. Monsieur Henri had trimmed her hair to shoulder length and then pulled it up into a cornet of curls with a few wisps falling softly about her face. To this he had added a gray ostrich plume that exactly matched her eyes and the ball gown of heavy satin that Madame Bretin had designed.
"Well, my dear, do you think we shall do?" questioned Sophia.
Juliana turned, the gown swirling provocatively around her legs, and circled her aunt. She noticed how her satin gown shimmered to life in the candlelight and how the color made Sophia's remarkable eyes seem to glitter. If she had changed since leaving Wentworth Park, then so had her aunt. There was a gaiety about Sophia now that softened the strong bones of her face and, with the new gowns, her fuller figure was shown to best advantage. She was a mature woman at the height of her beauty, and from the gleam in her eye Juliana suddenly realized she was planning to enjoy herself to the fullest.
"You look lovely!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't be surprised if it is you who finds a husband."
Sophia laughed, grabbing Juliana's hand. "Then let us be off to see what this evening holds for us."
In the carriage, Juliana's mind was so occupied with her plan to humble the marquis that she barely noticed the crush of carriages lining the street in both directions in front of the Grenville town house. Her own elegant landau, with two postilions, a driver, and a groom moved slowly forward until at last they were positioned directly in front of the door. Only then would Sophia permit them to alight.
She had only a fleeting impression of the Grenville mansion: black marble pillars, a chessboard-patterned floor, and everywhere glittering crystal chandeliers, and colorful arrangements of fresh flowers, as Sophia bustled her into a side room to deposit her cloak. The ton, like Juliana and Sophia, had visited their hairdressers, modistes, milliners, and sent their jewels for cleaning, all in preparation for this, one of the first balls of the Season. Now dozens of fashionably dressed guests talked and moved about the house-it was a mad crush, the highest accolade for a ton party.
Ascending the staircase to the reception line was a slow task, and Juliana had plenty of time to take in the glamour around her. Much to her disgust she did not spy the marquis. But she was charmed by the number of people who remembered her aunt and greeted her warmly. When they finally reached the reception line, she was surprised to see Lady Grenville's fixed smile change abruptly into a mask of frosty disapproval.
"Sophia, I can't imagine how you would allow … "
Charlotte stepped forward, so discreetly, that no one, not even her mother, realized how she effectively squelched Lady Grenville's outburst.
"Juliana, you look beautiful! You'll put everyone in the shade tonight."
A pleasant warmth crept through her, for in all truth she was still uncertain of the bodice. "You look especially lovely tonight also," Juliana returned, lightly squeezing her friend's hand. "Your gown is exquisite."
The empire line of the simple white satin set off Charlotte's tall, willowy figure to advantage and quite took her out of comparison to the usual debutante frills.
Charlotte shrugged good-naturedly. "Well enough. But we all pale beside you."
"Charlotte! You mustn't turn Juliana's head with such outrageous flattery," Lady Grenville twittered, fanning herself briskly with a large fan of magenta feathers, which exactly matched her satin gown.
"I never flatter, Mama. It is only the truth, as you very well know," her daughter replied calmly before turning back to place a kiss on Sophia's cheek. "I was hoping George would be with you tonight."
"Sorry, dear." Sophia patted her arm. "There still seems to be a problem with that field of wheat. But he promises to arrive within a few days."
"He did quite right to stay at home," Charlotte nodded. "The wheat is much more important than my ball."
After a brief smile at Lady Grenville, who still, for some reason, positively glowered at her, Juliana moved away, trailed by Sophia.
"I think Charlotte truly believes the crops are more important than her ball," Sophia murmured in disbelief.
"Of course she believes it. Charlotte never says anything she doesn't mean," Juliana replied absently, scanning the ballroom once again. Drat the man! Where was he? She had gone to all this trouble to dazzle him and he didn't even have the good grace to be here to witness her arrival!
Who is the chit looking for so earnestly? Dominic stood in a sheltered alcove from where he had been following their progress up the stairs. He felt a pang of some strong emotion which, if he didn't know better, he might think was jealousy. Juliana looked ravishing, but what was Sophia thinking about to let her wear such a dress? He stepped forward, pulled toward her by the attraction that always seemed to flare up whenever he saw her. But then he stopped, remembering who she was. No point in continuing, she could never be his. Although, the fascination he felt for her couldn't be denied.
Whatever had she done to her hair? Was it still as sweet-scented as it had been tumbling over his arm as he carried her to the Blue Boar Inn? She was quite simply the most beautiful woman in the room. But she was more than just a lovely woman outwardly displaying her charms. He knew from Will's stories and his own dreams of her that her beauty came from within-her spirit, the warmth of her soul, the truth in her eyes reflected a beauty that no other woman at the ball could ever hope to attain. And although the town bronze became her, he remembered her even more beautiful than this-sitting in the Forbes's garden lost in the spell of gypsy music …
A sturdy elbow nudged him sharply in the side and Dominic stiffened.
"My boy, who is that ravishing redhead who has just entered? Never seen her before." Lord Rodney raised a large quizzing glass that hideously magnified one watery blue eye.
Dominic couldn't help but smile at his uncle's entranced expression. Rod was one of the few beings left on earth for whom Dominic felt affection. "Her name is Juliana Grenville. She's the widow of Sir Timothy Grenville's son, Will."
"Remember Sir Timothy. Quite a pleasant place in Berkshire I recall."
"Yes. The Willows. Belongs to Sir Alfred and Lady Grenville now."
"Damn pushy woman Lady Grenville. Can't imagine what your grandmother's thinking of, throwing the family's support into her chit's come out."
"Afraid I do," Dominic muttered, but his uncle wasn't paying any attention. He was raising his quizzing glass again, peering openmouthed at Sophia.
"The woman next to the redhead. Who is she?"
"Sophia Thatcher. Juliana's aunt."
"Thatcher … Thatcher … don't ring a bell. But Sophia … Sophia. I can't quite place her. I … I don't believe it! Sophia Vane! My god, it's Sophia Vane!" he sputtered.
Totally oblivious to the damage done to Dominic's exquisitely fitted coat, Rodney gripped his arm, propelling him across the ballroom floor. "Come, my boy, must pay my respects." An almost boyish grin flitted across Rodney's ruddy face. "Never told anyone this, Dominic, but Sophia Vane nearly caught me twenty years ago."
Juliana, waiting for the first set to begin, was standing by an open French window hoping to catch any breeze that might stir into the already stuffy ballroom. She glanced around and saw Dominic, accompanied by an immensely overweight gentleman, walking toward her. Materializing out of nowhere, Sophia appeared at her side.
Conscious of Dominic's eyes on her, she again wished she had not allowed Madame Bretin to cut the bodice of this gown so deep. Madame had insisted it must be done to expose to best advantage her jewelry. But since Juliana wore only diamond earrings, long falls of small flawless stones that her father had presented to her upon her marriage to Will, all the dress exposed was herself. She had ignored her normal modesty because her need to best the marquis was stronger, and she felt sure this dress would attract his attention. Now with him in front of her, all her resolution fled before the first real smile he had given her since the Blue Boar Inn.
The portly gentleman, however, didn't spare her a glance. He had eyes only for Sophia.
Sophia extended her hand and her delightful smile brought the dimple hovering beside her mouth. "Rodney, how good to see you again."