"Sometimes I look at a person and realize it's more important to them to think they're correct than it is to me to be proven so. If that's the case, I let it go."
"Even if that person takes it as an admission that you're wrong and they're right?"
This time he did shrug. He needed to change the subject. "Did you enjoy your first ball?"
Another sigh. "I'd rather have spent my dances with you."
Rupert's step faltered, but he recovered without spilling either of them across the footstool a maid must have left out. "I will be surprised if you don't end up with several callers on the morrow."
"Pshaw. I've no need of gentleman callers."
"Why not?"
She snuggled into his shoulder. "Once I get the girls safely married, I'll be free to do as I please."
"And what, pray tell, will you be pleased to do?" He expected her to say she wanted to travel, dance the night away, or perhaps even take her place in society and oversee the societal goings on of a younger generation.
Instead, she slowed her movement until their waltz was barely more than a slow shuffle. "I shall endeavor to learn the many secrets you hide behind your mask, Cousin Rupert." When he thought she couldn't surprise him any further, she reached up on tiptoe and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. "And, too, I will try to learn not to call you Cousin."
Juliana left the study before he formulated a response. Had she really just…? Rupert lifted his hand to the cheek she'd kissed. He rested his fingers against the stubble-roughened skin and smiled to himself. If Juliana was this generous with her affection whenever she had too much to drink, he might have to reconsider his position on spirits at the dinner table.
Chapter Eighteen
January 27, 1817
An invitation to dinner arrived midmorning the next day. Grace wanted them to dine at the duke's residence. Rupert jotted a reply and told Barrows to see to its delivery. Almost immediately after, visitors began arriving, begging an audience with Juliana. She, the girls, and the faithful Mrs. Burnham were in the sitting room. After the fifth gentleman passed by his study door without a glance in his direction, Rupert threw down his quill.
He had no license to be angry, no reason for it even. And yet… if it weren't for the threat of the Stanwich brothers, he would storm out the front door and go in search of a long, exhausting walk. Perhaps he should have danced with other women at the ball last night. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so agitated by all the attention Juliana was receiving.
Trying to turn his mind to more important matters, he thought about sending a note off to Tobias requesting an audience but decided against it. The less contact they had with each other, the better. It wouldn't do for him to act rashly after receiving the minister's missive the night before. He would prefer it if they told him he was being used as bait rather than keep him in the dark while they made attempts to draw out The Hunter. That part still rankled. Was Tobias in on it as well, or did this scheme belong strictly to the minister? For Tobias' sake, he hoped it was the latter. Until everything played out, though, there wouldn't be a good way to find out for certain.
****
Evening came, and Rupert accompanied Eleanor, Eudora, Juliana, and Mrs. Burnham on a walk across and down the street to Thomas and Grace's residence. Frederick, the butler, welcomed them with nary a smile. "I'm telling you, they all go to butler school." She muttered it under her breath, but Juliana's words didn't escape Rupert's hearing.
She'd not said a word to him about the night before. They'd breakfasted at the same table and been in and out of each other's space throughout the day, but as far as he could tell, she had no recollection of their moonlit dance.
"Juliana, Eleanor, Eudora, welcome!" Grace's effusive greeting blew past Rupert as if he weren't even present. "Mrs. Burnham, you too! So good to see you."
The old woman muttered something
"Even if that person takes it as an admission that you're wrong and they're right?"
This time he did shrug. He needed to change the subject. "Did you enjoy your first ball?"
Another sigh. "I'd rather have spent my dances with you."
Rupert's step faltered, but he recovered without spilling either of them across the footstool a maid must have left out. "I will be surprised if you don't end up with several callers on the morrow."
"Pshaw. I've no need of gentleman callers."
"Why not?"
She snuggled into his shoulder. "Once I get the girls safely married, I'll be free to do as I please."
"And what, pray tell, will you be pleased to do?" He expected her to say she wanted to travel, dance the night away, or perhaps even take her place in society and oversee the societal goings on of a younger generation.
Instead, she slowed her movement until their waltz was barely more than a slow shuffle. "I shall endeavor to learn the many secrets you hide behind your mask, Cousin Rupert." When he thought she couldn't surprise him any further, she reached up on tiptoe and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. "And, too, I will try to learn not to call you Cousin."
Juliana left the study before he formulated a response. Had she really just…? Rupert lifted his hand to the cheek she'd kissed. He rested his fingers against the stubble-roughened skin and smiled to himself. If Juliana was this generous with her affection whenever she had too much to drink, he might have to reconsider his position on spirits at the dinner table.
Chapter Eighteen
January 27, 1817
An invitation to dinner arrived midmorning the next day. Grace wanted them to dine at the duke's residence. Rupert jotted a reply and told Barrows to see to its delivery. Almost immediately after, visitors began arriving, begging an audience with Juliana. She, the girls, and the faithful Mrs. Burnham were in the sitting room. After the fifth gentleman passed by his study door without a glance in his direction, Rupert threw down his quill.
He had no license to be angry, no reason for it even. And yet… if it weren't for the threat of the Stanwich brothers, he would storm out the front door and go in search of a long, exhausting walk. Perhaps he should have danced with other women at the ball last night. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so agitated by all the attention Juliana was receiving.
Trying to turn his mind to more important matters, he thought about sending a note off to Tobias requesting an audience but decided against it. The less contact they had with each other, the better. It wouldn't do for him to act rashly after receiving the minister's missive the night before. He would prefer it if they told him he was being used as bait rather than keep him in the dark while they made attempts to draw out The Hunter. That part still rankled. Was Tobias in on it as well, or did this scheme belong strictly to the minister? For Tobias' sake, he hoped it was the latter. Until everything played out, though, there wouldn't be a good way to find out for certain.
****
Evening came, and Rupert accompanied Eleanor, Eudora, Juliana, and Mrs. Burnham on a walk across and down the street to Thomas and Grace's residence. Frederick, the butler, welcomed them with nary a smile. "I'm telling you, they all go to butler school." She muttered it under her breath, but Juliana's words didn't escape Rupert's hearing.
She'd not said a word to him about the night before. They'd breakfasted at the same table and been in and out of each other's space throughout the day, but as far as he could tell, she had no recollection of their moonlit dance.
"Juliana, Eleanor, Eudora, welcome!" Grace's effusive greeting blew past Rupert as if he weren't even present. "Mrs. Burnham, you too! So good to see you."
The old woman muttered something
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