A Michaelmas Wager

"Are you quite sure that you know what you are doing?"

  Juliana looked up to see the disapproving and slightly concerned expression on her cousin's face, and she sighed. "I am going to a charitable dinner with a gentleman - a dinner, moreover, hosted by one of the finest ladies of society whom all know and admire. What else do I need to know?"

  "That 'gentleman' of which you speak is no such thing, and you know it!" Audrey threw a cushion down onto the bed, and stared at Juliana who was placing two different coloured earbobs by her lobes, trying to decide which to wear. "Rufus Lovell is simply not the sort of man that you want to become . . . well, attached to!"

  Deciding on the pearls, Juliana gently placed them on her ears, gazed at her reflection quickly in the looking glass, and turned resolutely to her companion. "Audrey, this is not your decision to make. And anyway, I have already made it. I cannot simply withdraw my agreement to attend now, that would be most unjust."

  Audrey looked astounded at her friend, and had to jump up when Juliana slipped through the door to descend the stairs.

  "I don't think you've thought this through at all, and you're making a big - oh, Mr Lovell. You are early."

  Juliana smiled gently as her cousin tried to pretend she had not been galloping down the stairs three at a time, and she returned Mr Lovell's bow with a courtesy. "My cousin, Lady Audrey, was just talking about you," she said, smile widening.

  Mr Lovell returned the smile, and his eyes sparkled as he said, "Goodness, Lady Audrey, you flatter me with your notice."

  Juliana could hear the muffled irritation of her cousin behind her, but she couldn't stop looking at Rufus - Mr Lovell. She had never noticed his height before, but as he stood in the drawing room he seemed to dwarf her. The sharp line of his jaw seemed to make his smile even broader, and the way that the bright June light soared through the window and through his hair . . .

  " - or we shall be late."

  Juliana blinked. There was a silence in the room that she had not noticed before, and both Audrey and Mr Lovell were staring at her. This was clearly the moment for her to speak, but she had not been attending to the conversation.

  "I beg your pardon," she said with an apologetic smile. "I did not hear - I missed that last . . . "

  Her voice trailed off as she looked into Mr Lovell's smile. It was broad, and it was sincere, and it was for her. What was happening, and why did she feel so hot? July it may be tomorrow, but this was no heat of the day, surely?

  "Come now, Miss Honeyfield, or we shall be late." Mr Lovell held out an arm, and Juliana took it gratefully.

  "And I shall see you this evening," added Audrey. "I shall stay up, if necessary."

  She gave a pointed look to her cousin, and Juliana had the good grace to blush slightly. "That will not be necessary, Audrey, I shall be home directly after the dinner."

  Mr Lovell's arm was warm under hers, and Juliana flushed to feel the strength in his forearm, but it was but moments from leaving her home until they stepped into his curricle.

  "I thought we would never leave," revealed Mr Lovell as he settled her beside him. "I have wanted to do this as soon as I saw you."

  Leaning forward, he slipped one hand onto her waist and drew her slightly closer, and then closer still, and his mouth moved to hers, and Juliana could not help but close her eyes, intoxicated by his very presence, unwilling and unable to move, waiting for his lips to meet hers -

  "You forgot your shawl."

  Mr Lovell jumped away from her as though he had been stabbed with a hatpin. Audrey was standing outside the curricle on the pavement with a shawl in her arms and a disapproving smile on her face.

  Opening the door, she placed the forgotten shawl on her cousin's lap, and leaned in to whisper in her ear so that Mr Lovell could not hear. "At least wait until the carriage has pulled away from the house, Juliana."

  Blushing furiously Juliana thanked her cousin for the shawl, and leaned back in the curricle, face hot and fingers fiddling with the shawl.

  "I shall see you later then," were the last words from her cousin that she heard, as Mr Lovell prompted the driver to start the carriage moving.

  Juliana could barely bring herself to look at Mr Lovell. To be caught in the act by her cousin - the act of doing something that only an engaged couple would dare to do, in broad daylight! What on earth would Audrey think of her, and what would she assume her understanding with Rufus - with Mr Lovell - to be?

  "I can only apologise," said her companion gruffly, moving slightly away from her in the carriage. "I should have controlled myself. If you were not so beautiful, I may have been able to."

  Blushing all the more, Juliana replied, "Please do not apologise, Mr Lovell, I was quite a willing participant. You cannot bear all of the blame."

  "Rufus."

  She looked up, and saw a smile on his face as the carriage jolted them along.

  "I would like it very much, when we are alone, when it is just the two of us, if you would call me Rufus." He looked serious now, and in such earnest that Juliana felt a flush across her cheeks once more.

  She swallowed. "And you may call me Juliana - but only when we are alone, you understand?"

  Rufus laughed, and nodded. "Fear not, Juliana, I intend for us to be alone a lot more frequently than we are to be in company - and yet my plans are foiled before I know it. We have arrived."

  The carriage slowed to a halt, and Juliana sighed with disappointment. "I was so hoping to have more time with you, just the two of us."

  Rufus raised an eyebrow. "I am glad to see that I am not the only one of us that feels this way; and yet, some of the best company of London will be attending tonight, so the conversation should be riveting. You will not be bored, and unfortunately the night will undoubtedly be over before we know it."

  Rufus had never known himself to be so mistaken.

  "But of course, as the tariffs continue to change, we too must alter our approach to regulation," an elderly man droned on his left. "To ignore the changing of the market would be to greatly underestimate the power that an individual has to shift the tide of the pound - "

  "Ah, but who amongst us would willingly wield that power?" interrupted an equally elderly companion who sat on Rufus' right. "To be sure of the market one must act cautiously, never doing too much to upset the balance."

  "Balance, balance," returned the original speaker as Rufus attempted to cover his face as he yawned. "Tis balance indeed that will see us through the many vagaries . . ."

  Surely the dinner must be over now? Rufus felt as though he had suffered through seventeen courses, but just one look down at his plate told him that they were only just finishing the fish. Of course their hostess had placed himself and Juliana apart at the table, though not too far away; on the opposite side of the table, and three people down. It would not do for them to be seated together, proprietary must have its way - but to be so situated at the table, between two such doddering old men?

  "I find her equitable to all others, save Lady Audrey," stated a young man of Rufus' vague acquaintance, who sat opposite him. "And yet I would not tup her for all the tea in China, have you seen her mother?"

  "If you truly fear that Sophia will grow to become such a beast then I would advise you to cut your losses now and run, before your honour becomes entangled," was the laughing response of his friend, Dickens or Daniel, Rufus could not remember. "What think you, Lovell?"

  Rufus shook his head, so bored of the conversation that he almost could not bring himself to speak. "Do what you will, I suppose."

  "What I will? Tis not what I will, but what my parents will!" The first gentleman who Rufus was almost sure was Bernard, but could have been Benjamin, looked disgruntled around him. "For who is it but our parents that make the real matches? No, marriage is not even a game any more, but merely a place where mamas and papas can make their alliances."

  "And so it should be!" The elderly gentleman on Rufus' left slapped his fist down on the table, and most of the chatter
around the thirty strong table came to a halt. "Marriage is not for the young to find a pretty face, it is for two families to make an agreement that benefits both sides."

  "So you would rob our generation of any hope of happiness?"

  Rufus swallowed. He wasn't completely sure, but he was almost certain that he had spoken those last words. The rest of the diners were certainly staring at him in a very strange way.

  He looked up to the one person at the table whose opinion mattered to him, and saw that Juliana had a slight smile on her face.

  There was a cough to his left, and Rufus turned to look at the gentleman who had slammed his fist on the table. "Your generation, my generation, any generation: marriage is a tool, and nothing else. You find yourself a woman that you can build an empire with, and you build it!"

  "And yet that removes any of the sanctity of marriage," Rufus found himself saying to an almost silent room. "It is holy and sacred! Marriage created by God for the benefit of both individuals, no family to be taken into account, no financial agreements to be drawn up, and no resources to be pooled. Surely the happiest of marriages are between two individuals who . . . who love each other?"

  He could see by the raised eyebrows and the gentle murmuring that he had gone too far, but it was Juliana's response that was the only one that really mattered, and she looked - more confused than anything.

  "I . . ." His throat was dry now, but he had to finish what he had started. "I think marriage a noble institution, when accompanied by love. When two people come together, the right two people, with the right understanding. Then I think marriage is a truly remarkable thing."

  Rufus tried not to let his discomfort show. He had said too much, and the strange looks that he was receiving from up and down the table proved that. This was not the time nor the place to display your feelings, he told himself, and undoubtedly not in front of the woman who you are trying to marry before Michaelmas!

  Eyelashes down, Juliana did not notice the awkwardness on Rufus Lovell's face. She was too busy trying to digest his comments, her meal left forgotten on her plate. She had never heard anyone, let alone a man, say such things about marriage, about love. For all his laughter, Rufus Lovell was a man who felt deeply.

  The scrape of a chair made Juliana look up, and she was astonished to see that it was Rufus who had decided to leave the table early.

  "I am afraid that I must take Miss Honeyfield home," he said to the table, and Juliana tried to look as though she had expected this, rather than let her mouth fall open. "Her father will be waiting for her return."

  The hostess tried to speak but Rufus was clearly not in a listening mood: he strode out of the room without looking back, and the entire party turned to look at Juliana. Colouring, she in turn rose, curtseyed to the hostess, and stepped as gently as she could out of the room.

  In the hallway, Rufus was pacing.

  "I'm sorry," he said abruptly, "but I had to get out of there, the heat was unbearable. Are you happy to walk back - it is only ten minutes, perhaps a few more, but I would appreciate the coolness of the night air. My man can come back for the carriage tomorrow."

  Juliana nodded her assent, unable to speak. What on earth was going on with Rufus Lovell? He was pacing like a caged animal, and as they walked down the steps to the street he seemed incapable of thinking, determined just to walk in the fresh air.

  Drawing her shawl around her shoulders, she found a natural rhythm beside him, and glorified in his presence. This was a man who clearly had no need to hide his feelings, however complex they were. Here was a man she could . . . love.

  "I must apologise," Rufus said quietly as they turned a corner, and he slipped his hand over hers. "I have not spoken so out of turn in public before - well, not in my memory. It is rare for company to find a topic on which I can speak so fervently."

  "I had not realised that marriage was - I mean, matrimony is not often - I am told that men do not think on such things." Juliana blushed, completely unable to construct a sentence now that Rufus' warm and strong hand was encircling hers.

  Rufus laughed, and Juliana could not help but smile in response. His laugh was like a brook running over smooth stones. "I suppose not, but then there are very few gentlemen of my years who have had cause to consider marriage in any amount of seriousness."

  Her breath caught in her throat, and Juliana almost had to cough to clear it. Could he be - surely he could not be suggesting what she thought?

  "My parents were very unhappy for a very long time," Rufus said with a deep sigh, "and it was their own parents who had encouraged them into a match that brought neither of them a modicum of happiness."

  Juliana let out the breath that she had not realised she had been holding. Of course, she scolded herself, of course he is not about to propose to you. What could have given you that idea?

  "They put up a front, naturally. No one could know that the Lovells were miserable, but we knew - Hubert and I. It was impossible not to live in that house and to be unaware of the bile and hatred that my parents felt for one another."

  Juliana looked up at him. "That such an unequal marriage should bring such misery to four people; it does not sound fair."

  Rufus shrugged. "It was not, but it was a marriage of alliance, and it was intended to bring great power to my father. He was in trade, and my mother's dowry set him up for life - sets me up for life, now that they are both gone, along with my brother. And yet I would that he had chosen wiser. Chosen with his heart."

  Her own was beating far faster than was normal, and she could feel her pulse racing through her palm that touched his own.

  "I will never settle," said Rufus vehemently. "I will never settle for someone that I can just like, or tolerate, in my marriage."

  "Love," she found herself saying. "Love is all that matters."

  She did not receive the reply that she had expected, but it was nonetheless just as welcome; Rufus drew her into his arms, and planted his response gently on her lips. In that moment, enclosed in his arms and completely lost in his kiss, Juliana felt the answer, even if she did not hear it. That jaw that captivated her gaze so often grazed past her cheek as his lips enraptured her own, demanding more and more and yet no more than she was comfortable to give. This was passion, this was desire, this was . . . love.