The Earl of Langford, whom Lady Skeffington had coveted for her daughter, threw a final rub into her plans by getting married at the end of the Season. In a quick wedding that shocked London and antagonized Lady Skeffington, the handsome earl married Miss Bromleigh.
When Julianna's mother heard the news, she went to bed with her hartshorn and stayed there for a full day. By the evening, however, she had come to see the tremendous social advantage of being very personally acquainted with a countess who had married into one of the most influential families in England.
With renewed confidence and vigor, she focused all her hopes on Nicholas DuVille.
Normally Julianna could not think about her disastrous encounter with him that spring without shuddering, but as she sat in the maze, staring at the glass in her hand, the whole thing suddenly seemed more amusing than humiliating.
Obviously, she decided, the horrid-tasting stuff she'd drank actually did make things seem a little brighter. And if three swallows could accomplish that, then it seemed logical that a bit more of the magical elixir could only be of more benefit. It was in the spirit of scientific experimentation, therefore, that she lifted the glass and took three more swallows. After what seemed like only a few moments, she felt even better!
"Much better," she informed the moon aloud, stifling a giggle as she thought about her brief but hilarious encounter with the legendary Nicholas DuVille. Her mama had spied him in Hyde Park just as his curricle was about to slowly pass within arm's reach of the path they were on. In her eager desperation to point him out and effect a meeting, Julianna's mama gave her a light shove that put her directly into the path of his horse and curricle. Off-balance, Julianna grabbed at the horse's reins for balance, yanking the irate horse and its irate owner to a stop.
Shaken and frightened by the animal’s nervous sidestepping, Julianna clung to its reins, trying to quiet it. Intending to either apologize or chastise the driver of the curricle for not trying to quiet his own horse, Julianna looked up and beheld Nicholas DuVille. Despite the frigid look in his narrowed, assessing eyes, Julianna felt as if her bones were melting and her legs were turning to water.
Dark-haired, broad-shouldered, with piercing metallic-blue eyes and finely chiseled lips, he had the sardonic look of a man who had sampled all the delights the world had to offer. With that fallen angel's face and knowing blue eyes, Nicholas DuVille was as wickedly attractive and forbidden as sin. Julianna felt an instantaneous, insane compulsion to do something that would impress him.
"If you wish a mount, mademoiselle," he said, in a voice that rang with curt impatience, "may I suggest you try a more conventional means of obtaining one."
Julianna was spared the immediate need to react or reply by her mother, who was so desperate to accomplish an introduction that she violated every known rule of etiquette and common sense. "This is such an unexpected pleasure and privilege, my lord," exclaimed Lady Skeffington, oblivious to the ominous narrowing of his eyes and the avidly curious glances being cast their way by the occupants of the other carriages who had drawn to a stop, their way blocked. "I have been longing to introduce you to my daughter -"
"Am I to assume," he interrupted, "that this has something to do with your daughter stepping in front of me and waylaying my horse?"
Julianna decided that the man was rude and arrogant.
"That had nothing to do with it," she burst out, mortified by the undeniable accuracy of his assessment and by the belated realization that she was still holding on to the rein. She dropped it like it was a snake, stepped back, and resorted to flippancy because she had no other way to salvage her pride. "I was practicing," she informed him primly.
Her answer startled him enough to stay his hand as he started to flick the reins. "Practicing?" he repeated, studying her expression with a glimmer of amused interest. "Practicing for what?"
Julianna lifted her chin, raised her brows, and said in an offhand voice what she hoped would pass for droll wit rather than stupidity, "I'm practicing to become a highwayman, obviously. By way of an apprenticeship, I jump in front of innocent travelers in the park and waylay their horses."
Turning her back on him, she took her mother firmly by the arm and steered her away. Over her shoulder, Julianna added a dismissive and deliberately incorrect, "Good afternoon, Mr… er… Deveraux."
Her mother's exclamation of indignant horror at these outrageous remarks muffled a sound from the man in the carriage that sounded almost like laughter.
Lady Skeffington was still furious with Julianna later that night.
"How could you be so impertinent!" she cried, wringing her hands. "Nicholas DuVille has so much influence with Society that if he utters one derogatory word about you, no one of any consequence will associate with you. You'll be ruined! Ruined, do you hear me?" Despite Julianna's repeated apologies, albeit insincere, her mother was beyond consolation. She paced back and forth, her hartshorn in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. "Had Nicholas DuVille paid you just a few minutes of attention in the park today, where others could see it, you'd have been an instant success! By tonight we would have had invitations to every important social function of the Season, and by the day after, eligible suitors would have been at our door. Instead, you had to be insolent to the one man in all London who could put an end to my hopes and dreams with a single word." She dabbed at the tears trembling on her lashes. "This is all your grandmother’s fault! She taught you to be just like her. Oh, I should be horsewhipped for allowing you to spend so much time with that dreadful old harpy, but no one could oppose her will, least of all your father."
She stopped pacing and rounded on Julianna. "Well, I know more of the real world than your grandmother ever did, and I am about to tell you something she never did – a simple truth that is worth more than all her fantastical notions, and that truth is this -" And clenching her hands into fists at her sides, she said in a voice shaking with purpose, "A man does not wish to associate with any female who knows more than he does! If the Ton's gossip mill finds out how bookish you are, you'll be ruined! No gentleman of consequence will want you! You… will… be… ruined!"
Five
A trill of feminine laughter pulled Julianna's thoughts back to the masquerade, and she listened to the sounds of adults behaving like naughty children, wondering how many feminine reputations were being "totally ruined" out there tonight. Based on what Julianna had gathered from her mother's frequent lectures, it seemed there were countless ways to be ruined, but there were two different and distinct kinds of ruination. Mistakes made by the female alone, such as appearing too intelligent, too clever, too bookish, or too glib, could "ruin" her chances of making a splendid match. But any mistake she made that involved the honor of a gentleman resulted in "total ruin," because it eliminated her chances of making any kind of match at all.
It was very silly, Julianna decided gaily as she reflected upon the myriad ways of blundering into "total ruin."
A female could be "totally ruined" by allowing any gentleman to be alone with her in a room, or allowing him to show a partiality for her, or even allowing him a third dance with her.
As Julianna contemplated all this, she realized she would have been far, far better off if she had done only one of the countless things that could "totally ruin" a female's chances of making any match. If she had been totally ruined, she realized with a sudden flash of new insight, she would not now be facing a repulsive marriage to Sir Francis Bellhaven!