Slightly Wicked by Mary Balogh

she had been when he last saw her, and sighed.
    “I promise,” he said. “I’ll promise you the earth and the sun and moon too if you wish.”
    “The promise to meet and court Miss Effingham is quite sufficient,” she said. “Thank you, my boy.”
    “You must promise me one thing too,” he said.
    “What?” she asked.
    “Not to die anytime soon.”
    She smiled fondly at him.

CHAPTER VI

    J ulianne Effingham’s come-out had been declared a resounding success by her mama. It was true that she had failed to achieve that pinnacle of all young ladies’ dreams—the attachment of a rich and handsome husband during her very first London Season. But the situation was by no means desperate. She had attracted a whole host of admirers, several of them very eligible young gentlemen indeed, and she had cultivated the friendship of several young ladies of a superior social rank to her own.
    The list of friends and admirers had been carefully pored over by Julianne and her mama, a dream list of houseguests had been drawn up, and invitations had been sent out to attend a two-week-long house party at Harewood Grange. Almost half had accepted, and the desired number had easily been achieved by sending out invitations to a new list of second choices and then third choices. The guests were due to arrive four days after Judith.
    It was no coincidence, as she soon realized. Even apart from the fact that her usefulness in looking after her grandmother’s needs must have been the prime, long-term motive for sending for her, there were also a thousand and one other ways in which her hands and feet could be kept busy during the frantic days before everyone arrived.
    Aunt Effingham and Julianne spoke of nothing else but the house party and beaux and marriage prospects. Uncle George Effingham spoke of nothing at all and rarely opened his mouth except to put food and drink into it or to answer a question directed specifically at him. Judith’s grandmother spoke a great deal on a wide range of topics, and she was very ready to laugh at anything that slightly amused her. It was soon evident to Judith, though, that apart from herself, no one appeared to take much notice of what her grandmother said.
    She was a great deal plumper than Judith remembered, and more indolent. She complained of a host of maladies, both real and imaginary. She passed the mornings in her own rooms, much of the time spent on decking herself out in elaborate coiffures, not-so-subtle cosmetics and perfumes, brightly colored clothes, and masses of jewelry. She moved to the drawing room for the afternoons and evenings, rarely went outside unless it was to visit her neighbors and friends by closed carriage, and overate, her particular indulgence being cream cakes and bonbons. Judith loved her from the first moment. She was good-natured and genuinely delighted to see her granddaughter.
    “You are here at last,” she had cried that first day, enfolding Judith in a warm, violet-scented hug, the silver bangles on both her wrists jangling as she did so. “And it is
Judith
. I was so hoping it would be you. But I have been worrying myself sick that all the rain would wash you away. Let me have a good look at you. Yes, yes, Louisa, you may go down for your tea. But have Tillie bring a tray up for Judith, if you would be so good. I daresay she did not eat a great deal during her journey. Oh, my love, you have grown into a rare beauty, as I knew very well you would.”
    Grandmama was demanding even though her smiles and apologies and thanks and hugs made all the unnecessary errands less annoying than they might otherwise have been. Whenever she was upstairs she needed something from downstairs. When she was down, she needed something from her rooms. When she was five feet from the cake plate or bonbon dish, she needed someone to fetch her the food since her legs were particularly bad today. It was easy to understand why Aunt Effingham had been willing to take in one of her