“Do not expect me to make it easy for you.”

She should have taken pleasure in the way he turned on one heel and left—in the way she had damaged his cool façade.

But as she watched him return to his box—and to the perfect English bride he had selected—it was not triumph that flared.

It was something suspiciously like longing.

Chapter Eight

Rudeness is the ultimate test of perfection.

The delicate lady holds her tongue.

—A Treatise on the Most Exquisite of Ladies

The most exciting finds at the modiste are not wisps of silk, but whispers of scandal . . .

—The Scandal Sheet, October 1823

“Englishwomen spend more time buying clothes than anyone in all of Europe.”

Juliana leaned back on the divan in the dressmaker’s fitting room. She had spent more hours than she would care to admit on that particular piece of furniture, upholstered in a fine, scarlet brocade that was just expensive enough and just bold enough to echo the proprietress of the shop.

“You must never have seen the French shop,” Madame Hebert said drily as she artfully pinned the waist of the lovely cranberry twill she was fitting to Callie.

Mariana laughed as she inspected an evergreen velvet. “Well, we cannot allow the French to best us at such an important activity, can we?” Hebert replied with a pointed grunt, and Mariana hastened to reassure her. “After all, we have already won their very best seamstress to our side of the Channel.”

Juliana grinned as her friend narrowly avoided a diplomatic disaster.

“And besides,” Mariana continued, “Callie spent far too long in horrible clothing. She has much to make up for. We just come along for the excitement . . .” She paused. “And perhaps a winter cloak in this green?”

“Your Grace would look beautiful in the velvet.” Hebert did not look up from her work. “May I suggest a new gown in the dupioni to match? It will make you the belle of a winter ball.”

Mariana’s eyes lit up as Valerie spread out the stunning green silk—heavier than most with a dozen different greens shimmering through it. “Oh, yes . . .” she whispered. “You may certainly make such a suggestion.”

Juliana laughed at the reverence in her friend’s tone. “And with that, we are here for another hour,” she announced, as Mariana headed behind a nearby screen to be measured, poked, and pinned.

“Not too tight,” Callie said quietly to the dressmaker before smiling at Juliana. “If autumn remains as social as it has been, I cannot imagine what will come of winter. You’re going to need new dresses as well, you know. In fact, we have not discussed what you shall wear to your dinner.”

“Not my dinner.” Juliana laughed. “And I am sure I have something suitable.”

“Callie’s selected an excellent crop of London’s lords, Juliana,” Mariana sang from behind the screen. “Each one more eligible than the last.”

“So I have heard.”

Callie inspected the waist of her gown in the mirror. “And all but Leighton have accepted.” She met Juliana’s eyes in the mirror. “Including Benedick.”

Juliana ignored the reference to the Earl of Allendale, knowing she should not press Callie further on the event. Nevertheless, “Leighton is not coming?”

Callie shook her head. “It is unclear. He simply has not responded.” Juliana held her tongue, knowing that she should not press the issue any more. If he did not wish to attend the dinner, what business was it of hers? “I am trying to find the good in him . . . but it is not easy. Ah, well. We shall have a lovely time without him.”

“Would you like me to have Valerie show you some fabrics, Mademoiselle Fiori?” Hebert interjected, as excellent a businesswoman as she was a dressmaker.

“No.” Juliana shook her head. “I have plenty of dresses. My brother need not be bankrupted today.”

Callie met Juliana’s gaze in a large looking glass. “Don’t think I don’t know about your little secret gifts with Gabriel. You know he loves to buy you clothes and whatever else you want. And I know where all his new books and pieces of music come from.”

Juliana smiled. When she had first come to England, feeling entirely disconnected from this new world and her new family, she had been convinced that her daunting half brothers would hate her because of who she represented—the mother who had deserted them without looking back when they were boys. It did not matter that that same mother deserted Juliana, as well.

Except it had mattered. Gabriel and Nick had accepted her. Without question. And while their relationship as siblings continued to evolve, Juliana was learning—later than most—what it was to be a sister. And as part of that immensely pleasurable lesson, she and her eldest brother had begun a game of sorts, exchanging gifts often.

She smiled at her sister-in-law, who had been so instrumental in building the relationship between her brother and her, and said, “No gifts today. I am still reserving hope that the season will come to an end before I require a formal winter wardrobe.”

“Don’t say such things!” called Mariana from behind her screen. “I want a reason to wear this gown!”

They all laughed, and Juliana watched as Madame Hebert artfully draped the fabric of Callie’s gown over her midsection. Callie considered the folds of fabric in the mirror before saying, “It’s perfect.”

And it was. Callie looked lovely. Gabriel would not be able to keep his eyes off her, Juliana thought wryly.