A Michaelmas Wager

Juliana Honeyfield was not having a good day.

  "And what I want to know," she said angrily, "is why you have dragged me here in the first place Audrey!"

  "I thought that you would want to go to a party!" Audrey said, her opal eyes flashing blue and green. "A pleasant diversion from the staidness of home, I had thought - and is it not a beautiful day?"

  Gesturing one pale arm upwards towards the sun, Audrey smiled. Her cousin was not amused.

  "A beautiful day it may be, but a wonderful party, it is not!" Due to their close proximity to many other young ladies all situated around the punch bowl, Juliana was forced to keep her tone light and happy, but it was the last thing she felt. "Audrey, there are some very questionable characters here!"

  They both turned to look at the group of young gentlemen.

  "I mean, look at them." Juliana said quietly. "All of them have managed to lose their cravats or suit coats, and one looks particularly . . . well, drunk."

  But despite this very proof of unsocial behaviour, Audrey just seemed to shrug.

  "This is what happens at parties given by the rich," she said gently, placing a hand on her cousin's arm. "I had not realised that you would be so shocked at such churlish behaviour."

  Juliana flushed slightly at the inference that she was a prude. "This is not someone's parlour, where an individual may embarrass themselves to no great harm: this is Hyde Park! I may just be a Reverend's daughter, but even I know that propriety itself still matters, and surely in a place so open to the public as this - "

  "Stuff and nonsense," said Audrey calmly. "Men, Juliana. Men are so different from you and I that they may as well be completely different species, set on God's green earth to try us beyond our wits. Do you not think that this is precisely the reason why they are behaving so?"

  "Good afternoon Lady Audrey." An elderly gentleman interrupted them, bowing deeply before them but ignoring Juliana as the unknown at the party. "And I hope your father, the Viscount of Marchwood, is well?"

  Audrey returned the bow with a courtesy. "Very well, my lord, and your dear wife?"

  Juliana watched, unrequired in this conversation as she saw her cousin deftly move into the delicate questioning required of polite society, and then almost immediately extricate herself without giving offence, and turning back to her.

  "Apologies old thing."

  Juliana smiled weakly. "None needed. I just don't understand how at the same party one can have perfectly civil conversations, and then just over there with the son of the host himself . . ."

  Her voice trailed off as she looked over to the men once again. One of them was meandering towards the Right Honourable Mrs Jemima Evesham, and the friends he left behind were laughing openly.

  "How do they benefit from such a display?" she whispered to her friend. "Or am I such a green goose that I have lost all sense of what society dictates?"

  It was bad enough, Juliana told herself, that she was the poor relation; now it seemed as though Audrey had a much greater handle on what society expected than she did. Hopefully the blush of embarrassment that was already creeping up her throat towards her cheeks could be blamed on the heat of the day.

  "I know what you're thinking, and you are wrong," Audrey said perceptively. "The laws of the tonne are not changed because you are not titled, but because we are female."

  Juliana blanched. "And what has that got to do with anything?"

  "You cannot be serious!" Audrey laughed, and the hand that she had reached out to help herself to more punch retracted as she turned back to Juliana. "My darling, you know what treatment society metes out to us and to the less fair sex is different, you cannot be ignorant as all that. Men may have lovers, but a woman left alone with a man in a library for more than five minutes? Scandal! A man may have debts, debts of honour, even debts of finance without being termed a brigand but for a woman to play cards with strangers? Whore! And ladies must wear corsets and stays and petticoats and layer after layer to protect one's modesty - and a man may throw off all sense of dress and decency and he is just seen as a flamboyant youth!"

  Juliana shook her head slightly as she looked back over to the men wistfully. "It must be liberating, being so free."

  "Stuff and nonsense," said Audrey decisively. "They've never known any different, how can they value the freedom that is given to them?"

  Audrey reached out her hand once more to help herself to punch, when Juliana whispered, "Who are they, anyway?"

  Laughing, Audrey replied, hand back at her side, "Why, are you interested?"

  The two of them collapsed into giggles.

  "Oh yes, I cannot wait to be wed!" Juliana retorted smiling sarcastically, her good humour finally restored. "I'm just curious, that's all. It's easy for you, you know everyone here already!"

  "Not everyone!" Audrey's eyes raked over the crowd, and then she sighed. "Well, perhaps everyone." Turning to view the young men again, she said quietly. "The one who approached Mrs Evesham, that's Nicholas Wingrave. About thirty, I think, and fabulously rich of course. The friend beside him is Percival Quinn who you know, second son to the Duke of Daventry, and beside him is Anthony Griffiths. He's a lawyer, but he married well and young, and when the poor girl died he inherited everything. That shorter one, with champagne all in his cravat? And the last one . . . you know, I don't think I know him? No, wait: that's a Lovell. Can't remember his name, but he's definitely a Lovell."

  "A Lovell - not a relation of Hubert Lovell?" Juliana stared at the man in amazement. She had read about the trial of Hubert Lovell last year, and again about his death in squalor and prison not six months ago. And he had a brother?

  Audrey nodded. "You can tell, there's something about the eyes - something devious, I think, or tricksy. I wouldn't put anything past him."

  "So all fine men, by the sound of it," said Juliana with a bite of sarcasm - a trait that she attempted to keep hidden from all save her closest friends. "Goodness, it's hot, and no shade to speak of where we are situated. Why did you bring me to this hot place, Audrey?"

  "Because you needed company, and your father cannot say no to the Duke of Daventry," replied Audrey promptly. "Here, let me get you some punch."

  Her hand was reaching out, but it was overtaken by Juliana's own. "Please don't worry yourself," Juliana said hurriedly, reaching the ladle first and pouring her own drink. "I've been more than ungrateful enough for your graciousness in having me invited to this party in the first place, and for visiting me when I know your Father would rather have you all to himself."

  She brought the punch glass to her lips, and it was cool and refreshing. Her eyes closed, revelling in the sensations, but she opened them sharply when Audrey's hand grabbed her wrist.

  "Goodness, Audrey, what on earth - "

  "Do you know him?" Audrey interrupted.

  Juliana stared at her friend in amazement. "Know who?"

  "Him."

  Looking in the direction of her friend's gaze, she saw that the young man from the raucous group was striding towards them, staring . . . well, at herself.

  "You must know him," whispered Audrey, a gleeful smile dancing across her face. "Look at him, he's making straight for you!"

  "But I've never seen him before in all my life!" It was ridiculous to panic, but all Juliana could think about was the Lovell name, and that did not have much to recommend it. "Audrey, do something!"

  "My darling, I may be the heiress to the Marchwood fortune," and here she winced and as Juliana had heard the same rumours about her father's financial difficulties, they both chose to ignore her wording, "but I am unable to control the decisions of young men - especially those who are smart enough to realise that you are the most beautiful woman here!"

  Juliana laughed tersely. "Now you know that is nonsense - honestly, Audrey, what is he doing!"

  But they did not have long to wait to find out. Indeed, before the last syllable had escaped her lips he was before them, and he bowed low.

  "Rufus Lovell, at your se
rvice."

  Juliana could feel her cousin curtseying beside her, but she didn't seem able to control her legs in a way that society demanded. Her curtsey seemed to be more like a steady fall which then suddenly moved in the opposite direction, and she felt her face blush.

  Now that Rufus Lovell was closer, she could see that he was arguably very handsome. The sharpness in his eyes that Audrey had described as a Lovell trait seemed to be more intelligence than cruelty, as she had assumed, and his strong jawline and dark hair seemed perfectly formed to give a sense of manliness and - focus, Juliana! She forced herself to speak, instead of getting lost in her own banal thoughts.

  "Good afternoon, Mr Lovell," she said curtly.

  She had hoped that her sharpness would discourage the young man, but if anything it made him smile all the broader.

  "My dear ladies, I must apologise for I know but one of you by name and neither of you by reputation, for which I am sadly lacking and am determined to make up for immediately. Lady Audrey, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your friend?"

  Juliana wanted to gape but she kept a hold of herself. Nervous hands smoothed down her white gown as her cousin spoke.

  "Mr Rufus Lovell, may I introduce Miss Juliana Honeyfield, my dear cousin on my mother's side. Miss Honeyfield is joining me for some of the season and her father, the Reverend Honeyfield, is being so good as to extend his welcome and hospitality during my stay here in London."

  How on earth did she do it? Juliana wondered. Perhaps there was something with good breeding that simply created a poise that could not be shaken, not under any circumstances whatsoever. Despite the fact that their mothers had been sisters you would not have known them to be related at this moment.

  Mr Lovell bowed again, and smiled at the pair of them. "Your cousin you say, Lady Audrey? Well, I must say how glorious it is to make your acquaintance, Miss Honeyfield; I hope you are enjoying the party?"

  "Not particularly," Juliana found herself saying. "The heat is excessive, and yet despite that I had hoped for some dancing."

  What had come over her - and how was she to stop herself from talking! Frantic eyes turned to her companion, and she was rescued.

  "Yes, is it not astonishing how hot the day is?" Lady Audrey fixed a smile on Mr Lovell, tilting her head slightly at the sky and gesturing with an elegant hand at the sun that was beating down on them. "And yet I had read that this May was going to be tirelessly grey."

  Not for the first time, Juliana gazed at her cousin's loveliness. It was impossible to avoid being the lesser of the beauties when you attended soirees, card parties, and assemblies with the Lady Audrey: her opal eyes, never quite green, never quite blue, were always enough to captivate people even if you ignored her porcelain skin and the way she never seemed fazed by anything that happened to her.

  She herself was not plain, certainly, but her beauty was that of an everyday kind. Regular features, unremarkable complexion, the same brown hair you could see on a hundred debutantes, and neither wit nor education nor fortune to recommend her. This was the time in the conversation, Juliana knew, that she would fade slightly into the background, like a velvet cushion that had been left out in the sun, and before long the conversation would continue as if she were not there.

  And yet . . . why did Mr Lovell's eyes keep slipping over to her? He was conversing quite happily with Audrey, that was true, and yet his attention did not seem to be on her. Was he - yes, he was more focused on herself than on her cousin.

  "And have you attended the opera recently, Miss Honeyfield?" Rufus Lovell asked with a polite raise of his eyebrow. "I have heard that the music is simply divine at the moment, simply the best musicians in the world."

  Juliana willed herself to be charming, hoped beyond hope that she would be able to keep a close reign on her words, but they spilled out before she could even think to filter them. What did this man do to her?

  "I have not the funds nor the means to attend the opera," she said bluntly. "Tickets are already sold to those who are in the highest ranks of society - and moreover, even if I had access to them there would be no way that I could afford such a luxury."

  Crimson now flooded her cheeks, and she knew that there would be no way for her to blame that on the sun. The second eyebrow of Mr Lovell was raised, but he said no more. Instead he bowed shortly in her direction, then in Audrey's, and strode back to his party.

  "God in his Heaven, what has come over you?" Audrey hissed at her, eyes wide. "I know that we are honest and open with each other, but I have never seen you speak so brazenly before! And to a Lovell!"

  Juliana sniffed. "I know, but what does it matter now? He's gone, hasn't he, and perhaps my lack of social graces was a prompt to get him to go away!"

  But Audrey was shaking her head. "Go away? Do you not see him, he's coming straight back here!"

  And so he was. Rufus Lovell was tall and so it did not take him long to return back to them at the punch bowl - but instead of addressing Audrey, as Juliana had expected him to, he stopped in front of herself, and held out a hand.

  "Miss Honeyfield?"

  Mouth open, she was about to ask what on earth he expected of her, when the strains of a Scotch reel wafted on the air. Three musicians had appeared, instruments tuned, and couples were going hand in hand towards an area to their left, where dancing was evidently to begin.

  "You wanted to dance, Miss Honeyfield," said Rufus with a grin on his face - a grin, Juliana saw in dismay, that only increased his good looks. "I am a friend of the Quinn family, and a gentle word in the right ear ensured that a dance you could have."

  Juliana could hear a quiet gasp of astonishment from Audrey beside her, but it was nothing to what she felt. Who was this man, this Rufus Lovell, that he could demand music for dancing at a party given by the Duke of Daventry? And who was he to think her wishes, her desires important enough to take such a step - and now, to return and claim her hand?

  Flattered she may be, but she was not overwhelmed. She was not about to fall head over heels in love with a man whom she had just met, let alone a Lovell.

  "And of course she'll dance with you," Audrey pushed her slightly so that she took a stumbling step towards Mr Lovell.

  He smiled, and Juliana's traitorous heart fluttered. "Nothing could make me happier."

  Rufus Lovell beamed, and Juliana became very conscious of his smile, and his eyes never left her. "You never know, Miss Honeyfield. I may just end up proposing."