A Gentleman for Lady Juniper (Clairvoir Castle #6)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

A gonizing over a kiss wasn’t precisely how Jack expected to spend the rest of his day—or the day after in the many hours leading up to the ball. Yet the memory of Juniper’s lips on his, and the way she had looked up at him with longing and confusion, resurfaced no matter how he tried to banish it. It was both a torment and a reprieve, for it momentarily replaced his worries about his family’s uncertain standing.

Unfortunately, everyone else had noticed his distraction.

“What?” George asked when Jack climbed into the carriage to attend the ball, peering at him. “No lecture on proper behavior this evening? No reminders to keep my hands off my cravat or avoid treading on a woman’s overlong skirts? No censuring reminders about farming, or?—”

“George, stop that.” Susan tapped her husband lightly on his shoulder with her fan. “You can see the poor man is anxious. Leave him be.”

Jack gave her a grateful smile as he settled next to Emily on the rear-facing seat, then folded his arms across his chest. “I trust I have delivered enough lectures. If you cannot remember them now, I see no reason to give more. ”

Their parents, Lord and Lady Benwaith, were in a second carriage with Richard and Katherine, all of them bound for the grand hotel where the Conte and Contessa di Atella were hosting the evening’s ball. The event was to be a lavish affair, given all the attention surrounding it in the newspapers. It was a gesture of goodwill from the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, whose government had been technically overthrown by Austria the year before. King Ferdinand hoped to win European-wide support to regain true sovereignty over his country. It was all delicate political maneuvering—precisely the sort of thing Jack had little patience for, given his preference for physical battles over verbal ones.

“George will behave himself,” Susan promised. “But will you manage, Jack?”

He glanced up sharply, feeling his ears warm as he recalled that stolen kiss. The memory stung with both sweetness and regret, but surely none of his family knew of it. He certainly hadn’t been behaving himself when he took it. “Of course.”

Emily poked his arm. “I think what Susan means to ask is whether you will be all right this evening, given how we were slighted at the last ball we attended.”

“Ah. That.” He cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from Juniper. “There are more interesting things to discuss this evening than our family. That we are guests at all for such an event ought to go a long way toward showing our respectability.”

“I still cannot understand how things turned bleak so quickly,” George muttered, tugging at his cravat. “We have done nothing truly foolish. A few mistakes here and there are surely no reason for this much coldness.”

Jack had to date refrained from sharing the darkest of the rumors—that he was blackmailing the Duke of Montfort. Such an accusation would only serve to upset his family further, and there was little he could do to disprove it without His Grace’s presence. Writing to the duke for help was out of the question, the very thought chafing at his pride.

No, they would have to wait it out, as the rest of his family believed; hope that time itself would ease the whispers and warm the stares. But waiting and hoping had never sat well with him. It rankled now more than ever.

The carriage drew to a halt outside the grand hotel, its facade gleaming in the light of the gas lamps lining the street. As Jack stepped down, he cast a glance over the building’s impressive entrance, with its tall windows and polished brass fixtures. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of London’s endless motion, but soon after they stepped through the hotel doors they were greeted by the warmth and splendor of the ballroom.

The room before them was dazzling, lit by sparkling chandeliers with crystals scattering the gaslight like stars. The high ceiling was adorned with gilt moldings and clusters of flowers arranged in tall vases lined the walls, their rich fragrance making the air heady. Everywhere he looked, there were silk gowns and gleaming jewels, the elegance of the guests’ finery blending together in a riot of color.

Jack’s gaze swept over the scene, taking in the polished marble floors, the sweeping staircase at the far end of the room, and the musicians seated in a balcony above playing a lively reel. The swell of music and the rise and fall of voices filled the air. For a moment, it was easy to forget the troubles troubling his mind. Here, everything gleamed, and the world was full of laughter, light, and gaiety.

Yet even in such splendor, Jack remained on his guard. As they entered the ballroom, Emily on his arm, he was keenly aware of the watchful gazes turned toward them. He could sense the undercurrent of curiosity and speculation rippling through the crowd like a distant echo, softened by the grandeur of the setting but no less present .

“Stay close, Emily,” he murmured to his sister, his hand resting protectively on her arm. “And smile as if you haven’t a care in the world.”

Emily obeyed with grace, her expression smoothing into a composed, pleasant look. She glanced up at him with a small nod. “I do hope there will be more dancing this time,” she whispered back, her voice carrying a note of wistfulness that pierced him.

“There will be,” he promised, though inwardly he could not be certain. It was a risk, coming here with the air still thick with rumors about their family—but they needed to be seen, to prove they belonged among these people, no matter how the whispers swirled.

As they moved further into the room, Jack caught sight of the Conte di Atella, the evening’s host, greeting guests with warm enthusiasm. His Italian accent was thick, but his English courteous as he exchanged pleasantries with the arriving nobility. Nearby, the Contessa herself presided over a group of ladies, her gown a deep rich shade of green that stood out even amidst the brilliance of the ballroom.

“Ah, Mr. Sterling, Lady Emily,” came a familiar voice. Jack turned to see Lady Ivy Dunmore, her eyes bright as she greeted them. Her husband, Lord Dunmore, was just a step behind, a glass of champagne in his hand. “How splendid to see you both.”

“Good evening, Lady Dunmore,” Emily replied, dipping into a curtsey. “It is a lovely event.”

“It is indeed,” Jack agreed, though his gaze roamed the room, searching for a familiar face which wasn’t there. He had not seen Juniper yet, but with so many people filling the room, it was possible he had simply missed her.

“Lady Atella will be most pleased that you’ve come,” Lord Dunmore said with a nod. “She has spoken highly of you, Lady Emily, and your sisters-in-law. There was the smallest concern you’d not wish to come, given…well, some of the less than mannerly behavior of our peers.”

“Not at all,” Jack answered, posture stiff. “We would not have missed it.”

Lady Dunmore took both Emily’s hands in hers, examining his sister’s gown, asking questions while offering up compliments.

The Irishman gave Jack a knowing look, as though sensing the strain he kept hidden from his family beneath his outward composure. “Good,” he said, stepping closer. “And if anyone should act less than welcoming, send them my way. I’ve already had words with a few sharp-tongued gossips this evening.”

Jack felt a rush of gratitude at the man’s support even as he glanced toward Emily, hoping she had not overheard that last remark. “Thank you, Dunmore,” he said, his voice low. “I will keep that in mind.”

He offered his arm to his sister once more, leading her toward the open space near the musicians where the first sets were already beginning to form. As they walked, Jack scanned the room again, seeking out familiar faces and keeping a watchful eye for anyone who might look askance at them. He could feel the pulse of anticipation rising within him, mingled with a lingering tension that he could not quite shake, much as he had felt before many a battle in his years of soldiering.

And then, amid the shifting throng, he finally spotted her: Juniper, standing at the edge of the dance floor, speaking to another lady. His breath caught for a moment as he took in the sight of Juniper. She was resplendent in a gown of pale lavender, the color bringing out the dark richness of her hair and the vibrancy in her eyes. There was a smile on her lips as she spoke, and even from this distance, he could sense the warmth in her expression .

The memory of their stolen kiss returned with startling clarity and his chest tightened. Here she was once more, in the midst of Society, surrounded by admirers and friends. Did she think of that moment as often as he did? Or had she, after his clear request for distance and refusal of a repeat, managed to set it aside and carry on as though nothing had changed?

His sister’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Jack, are you all right?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she followed his gaze. “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”

Jack forced a smile and gave a faint shake of his head. “I am well,” he replied. “The room is rather crowded, is it not?”

“Yes, it is,” Emily agreed, casting a glance over her shoulder. “But that’s a good sign for the conte. Perhaps his king will have the support he needs after all. Besides, we might not attract much attention when there are so many other people to look at and speak to.”

Jack wanted to believe that and as his gaze drifted back to Juniper, he found that hope stirring anew. He would speak with her tonight, if he had the chance, dance with her if he dared. It was too soon to know what he would say, but he could no longer avoid the truth—not to himself, nor to her.

The music swelled as the musicians played a new melody, and Jack took a steadying breath. Whatever the evening held, he would face it. For his family’s sake…and perhaps, if fortune favored him, for his own as well.

Lord Dunmore appeared again, and this time the Irishman swept a bow for Emily. “My lady, would you do this old married man the honor of standing up with him? It would please me to be the first to lead you about the dance floor this fine evening.”

Emily laughed at his overly chivalrous words, but accepted his hand at a nod from Jack. As they joined the forming lines, he turned his attention back to where he had seen Juniper—only to find her already a mere three steps away from him, her gaze holding steady on his.

“Mr. Sterling.” She curtsied. “Good evening.”

Jack’s breath hitched and his heart gave a quick, uneven beat. He bowed in return, the action smooth but his pulse far from steady. “Lady Juniper,” he greeted her, his voice coming out deeper than he intended. “It is a pleasure to see you this evening and looking so…so well.”

She rose from her curtsey, her eyes never leaving his. There was a light in them, a sparkle that seemed to carry answers to all his unspoken questions. For a brief moment, he wondered if she was thinking about the kiss, too—if it lingered in her memory as it did in his. Her gown, the pale lavender hue, cast a glow about her, and he struggled to keep his gaze from drifting to the curve of her lips.

“I am glad your family came tonight,” Juniper said, sincerity within every word. “I look forward to speaking with all of them.”

Jack’s chest tightened at her words. The way she looked at him, the way her gaze held a kind of quiet encouragement, made him wish he could act on his impulse to take her hand.

“We would not have missed it,” he replied, his tone more restrained than he felt. “It was an honor to be invited.”

The music swirled around them, and the dancers were taking to the floor. Jack’s gaze flickered to the lines of couples, then back to Juniper. He hesitated a moment before he spoke again, his voice softer, almost intimate. “Will you do me the honor, Lady Juniper, of joining me for this set?”

A pause followed, long enough that Jack’s pulse quickened with uncertainty. She had demanded the day before that he ask her, had she not? Why did she now hesitate? His chest tightened as he waited for her response, a touch of doubt creeping in.

Then Juniper’s lips curved into a warm smile, and she extended her hand toward him. “It would be my pleasure,” she said, her tone holding a softness that sent a thrill through him.

He took her hand in his, his fingers curling around hers as he led her toward their place in the line. The feel of her hand, warm and delicate in his own, stirred something deep within him, a yearning he had tried in vain to keep at bay. As they came to a halt, he released her hand and faced her. As they stood there, staring at one another, a sense of rightness settled over him, even as Jack’s heart raced.

As they danced the motion came naturally, each step falling into place as though they had partnered together a hundred times before. Jack’s hand tightened brushed slightly at her waist and his gaze locked on hers, the rest of the room fading into a blur of colors and motion. Here, in this moment, there was only Juniper: her nearness, her grace, the quiet understanding that seemed to pass between them without words.

“Mr. Sterling,” Juniper said softly, her voice barely carrying above the music. “You seem somewhat distracted.”

The question caught him off guard, and he met her gaze, pulse quickening at the way she watched him. Did she know what she was doing to him? The turmoil he had felt since that kiss in the bookshop was only worsened by being so close to her now. He wanted nothing more than to confess that she had occupied his every thought, that he had been tormented by the memory of her lips on his…

“I am,” he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended. “More than you can know.”

Her brow arched slightly, a hint of amusement sparkling in her eyes. “And what is it that distracts you so, Mr. Sterling?” she asked, her tone light and teasing.

Jack hesitated, the truth pressing against his restraint. How could he tell her that it was her—that she was the distraction? That it had been impossible to forget the feel of her hand pressed to his chest, the taste of that all-too-brief kiss? His grip on her hand tightened a fraction, a surge of longing making his voice unsteady. “It is difficult to explain.”

Juniper’s expression softened, and the teasing light in her eyes faded into something more earnest, more vulnerable. “I think,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to his mouth for the briefest of glances before lifting back to meet his eyes, “I might understand better than you realize.”

The subtle implication behind her words sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. Could it be that she had thought of him as often as he had of her? That the kiss had stirred something within her as well? His breath came a little quicker and he leaned closer than the steps called for, the music rising and falling around them echoing the beating of his own heart.

“Juniper,” he said quietly, the intimacy of using her given name in such a setting as this forbidden and yet so sweet. “I…”

But even as the word lingered on his lips, a sudden swell of laughter from a nearby group of dancers brought him back to reality. The crowded ballroom, the watchful eyes of Society—it all came rushing back, reminding him of the dangers of being too familiar, too honest. He was not free to pursue her without risking both of their reputations. The words he had almost spoken stuck in his throat, and he stiffened, his jaw tightening as he struggled to compose himself.

Juniper’s brow furrowed slightly as though sensing the change in him, the hesitation which had replaced his longing. “Jack?” she whispered, a faint note of concern in her voice.

His breath hitched at the sound of his name on her lips—a familiarity that wrapped around his chest and tightened, making him feel more exposed than he had since that kiss.

He forced himself to assemble his features into a more appropriate, solemn expression: a mask of his emotions similar to the one he’d worn as servant and guard. “Forgive me, Lady Juniper,” he said, his tone deliberately light. “I’m afraid my thoughts wandered.”

She nodded, but the curiosity—and something more—remained in her gaze. “Distracted and wandering. Perhaps you ought to learn how to better focus on what is right in front of you, Mr. Sterling,” she replied, with a curve of her lips.

When he made no reply, her smile wavered, as though she wondered if she had spoken too boldly. But there was still a challenge in her eyes, a question she was silently asking him to answer.

Jack’s pulse thudded in his ears. Focusing on what was in front of him was all he’d been doing. It had led to that kiss.

And now, he wanted so much more.

As the final notes of the dance faded, Juniper felt the gentle pressure of Jack’s hand ease away from hers. The warmth of his touch lingered beneath her glove, and she struggled to maintain her composure as she dipped into a curtsey. Her pulse fluttered, still racing from the dance. Every movement, every glance, had seemed fraught with unspoken words, as though the air around them was charged with emotions neither dared to voice.

Her gaze flitted to his face, searching for some sign of what he was thinking, of what he was holding back—but his expression had settled into that familiar guardedness, his eyes giving away little.

Jack held out his arm to escort her from the dancefloor, neither of them saying a word until they were within a few feet of Ivy, where politeness dictated he must leave her.

“Thank you, Mr. Sterling,” she murmured.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied, his tone steady, almost too composed. The hint of formality in his words made something in her chest tighten, a pang of disappointment she hadn’t expected.

Juniper took a half-step back, forcing herself to wear a pleasant countenance. “I hope you will continue to enjoy the evening,” she said, her voice a touch too bright. “There are many others who would be glad to dance with you, I am certain.”

He inclined his head, the polite gesture somehow a dismissal. “And you as well, Lady Juniper,” he said, using her title with a detachment that made her heart sink a little farther.

For a moment neither of them moved, as if both reluctant to be the first to step away. But then someone brushed past Juniper—a young lady she vaguely recognized—and the spell broke. She turned, telling herself that she must not look back as she walked away, even though the urge to glance over her shoulder tugged at her with every step.

Juniper managed to keep her composure as she made her way to Ivy, where her sister was engaged in conversation with a few acquaintances.

The second she had lost sight of Jack her expression faltered, and she pressed a hand to her heart to steady its uneven beat. It hadn’t been enough . The dance, the words exchanged—they had felt so close to something more, and now she felt farther from him than ever.

As she reached Ivy’s side, her sister glanced over at her, a knowing look flickering in her eyes. She did not address Juniper until the lady she had been speaking with turned away. Then she said, with a hint of teasing in her tone, “You appear quite flushed, Juniper. I suppose Mr. Sterling dances with as much intensity as he does everything else?”

Juniper tried to summon a laugh, but it sounded hollow to her own ears. “He is an adept dancer,” she replied, glancing down at her gloves and tugging at the fingers to straighten them as she continued, “Though I fear his thoughts were elsewhere.”

“Were they indeed?” Ivy’s tone was curious, her gaze searching her sister’s face. “It looked as though the two of you had much to discuss as you danced, and the color in your cheeks suggests it was not all unpleasant. ”

Juniper’s cheeks warmed further. “I am merely warm from the dance,” she said quickly. “There is nearing a great crush in here.” But even as she spoke, she felt the truth pressing at her—Jack’s hesitation, the way he had drawn back, had left her with more questions than answers.

And the ache in her chest told her she wanted those answers far more than she was willing to admit.

From that moment forward, Juniper tried to immerse herself in the evening, dancing with other partners and joining conversations with acquaintances, but no matter what she did she remained acutely aware of Jack’s presence. Whether she was gliding through a waltz or standing beside Lady Emily, she sensed the man’s gaze on her, as if his eyes were drawn irresistibly back to where she stood. It was a quiet, persistent pressure that followed her around the room, and though she made every effort not to meet his gaze, the awareness of him never left her. It were as though an invisible thread connected them, and with every glance that flickered across the distance, it tightened, pulling her back toward the memory of that kiss and the longing that still lingered, unspoken, between them.

Juniper slipped into the ladies’ withdrawing room, relieved to be away from the crowded ballroom if only for a moment. The quiet of the room was a welcome change from the music and chatter outside. She moved to a mirror to check the pins in her hair, then took a deep breath, willing herself to regain some composure. She’d been too aware of Jack’s presence, too preoccupied with the longing she had no business indulging. A few moment’s to ground herself would do her good.

The faintest sound broke the stillness—a soft, muffled sob. Juniper turned, frowning. The room appeared empty, save for a few elegant chairs and draped windows. She heard the sound again, coming from behind the heavy curtains framing one of the tall windows.

Without hesitation, she approached the drapes and pulled them gently aside, revealing a figure huddled in the corner, her face buried in her hands.

It was Lady Emily, her pale blue gown crumpled around her as she tried to stifle her tears with a gloved hand.

“Emily?” Juniper’s voice was quiet with concern as she immediately crouched down beside the young woman. “Oh, my dear, what has happened?”

Emily started at the sound of her name, lifting her tear-streaked face to meet Juniper’s gaze. She wiped at her cheeks, but her eyes remained red and glistening. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I did not mean for anyone to see me like this.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Juniper replied, keeping her tone soft and soothing. She took Emily’s trembling hands in hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “But you must tell me—what has upset you so? I saw you a scant while ago, and you seemed perfectly fine.”

Emily shook her head, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. “It is nothing,” she insisted, though her voice lacked any conviction. “Someone said something to me, something…awful.”

Protectiveness flared in Juniper’s chest. “What did they say?” Her brow furrowed with concern. “Who was it?”

Emily merely shook her head again, as if too ashamed or hurt to repeat the words. “I have no wish to talk about it,” she said, her voice small and fragile. “I just… I want to leave. I cannot face them all again, not after—” She broke off, another sob escaping her.

Juniper’s heart clenched, and she stroked her friend’s back to comfort her, wishing she had entered with one of her sisters to similarly offer support. “You need not explain if you do not wish to.” Her heart ached for her friend. “But you are not alone, Emily. I will not let you face this without someone by your side.”

Emily nodded, but the look of despair in her eyes was unmistakable. It made Juniper’s temper rise to think that anyone had spoken cruelly to the sweet-natured woman she considered a friend.

“I will find one of the ladies in your family,” Juniper said gently, rising to her feet. “They will know what to do, and then they can take you home, if that is what you wish.”

Emily nodded again, looking both grateful and relieved as she wiped at her cheeks with a trembling hand.

Juniper gave her one last reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving the withdrawing room. She slipped back into the crowded ballroom, searching the throng for any sign of Lady Benwaith, Lady Tenby, or Mrs. Sterling. As she moved through the guests, she simmered with anger at whoever had dared to insult Emily. The audacity!

What had come over the ton , to say something so vicious to someone so innocent and kind as Emily—and in public?

She found Lady Tenby and Mrs. Susan Sterling first, studying a floral arrangement together. “Ladies,” she said as she approached, voice low and tone urgent. “I need your help. It is Emily—she is terribly upset and in the withdrawing room. Someone said something awful to her, and now she wants to leave.”

Both of them turned to her, eyes widened in alarm.

Susan spoke first. “What happened? Is she all right?” Her voice concerned.

“She would not tell me exactly. Only that someone said something awful.”

“Who would dare?” Katherine glanced quickly around the room as if expecting to see the culprit revealed by some malevolent and telling expression.

Juniper touched Katherine’s arm. “She is very distressed. She needs to leave.”

Susan’s lips tightened into a thin line, her expression hardening. “Thank you for coming to find us.” She squeezed Juniper’s hand. “Take me to her.”

Katherine nodded curtly. “I will find her brothers,” she said, her tone decisive. “We will take her home at once.”

“Please do,” Susan agreed, her expression taut with worry. “And then we will find some way out of here without causing more of a scene.” Katherine nodded and swiftly departed, her steps purposeful as she went in search of one of the Sterling men.

Juniper took Susan’s arm and guided her toward the withdrawing room, trying to appear normal and unhurried. As they walked, she couldn’t help but glance around the ballroom, searching for any sign of disapproving looks or whispered words. If someone had insulted Lady Emily so cruelly as to reduce her to tears they might linger nearby, smirking behind a fan or trading smug glances. The thought made Juniper want to rail against the entire room, but to what end? She did not have the ability to clip the wicked tongues with her mere reputation. Not even Lady Atella and Ivy’s friendship had managed it.

When they reached the doorway to the withdrawing room, Susan squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for what was to come. Juniper pushed open the door, and they entered to find Lady Emily exactly as Juniper had left her—curled up behind the curtain, dabbing her damp cheeks with a handkerchief.

The moment Emily saw her sister-in-law, a fresh wave of tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, S-Susan,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I—I cannot stay here. Please, may we leave?”

Susan rushed to her side, wrapping an arm protectively around Emily’s shoulders. “Of course, darling,” she said, her tone soothing. “We will leave this very moment. But first, you must tell me who said those dreadful things to you.”

Emily shook her head, her expression anguished. “It does not matter. Please, I want to leave. ”

The two other women’s gazes met over Emily’s bowed head, and Juniper saw the anger flash in the older woman’s eyes. It was clear that Susan wasn’t going to let this matter rest—but for now, all that could be done was to comfort Emily and get her safely away from the prying eyes and whispers of the ballroom.

Juniper glanced back at the closed door of the withdrawing room, her thoughts racing. If Emily was to leave the hotel unnoticed, they would need to avoid the main exits. An idea struck her, and she turned to Susan.

“There is a servants’ door at the back of the withdrawing room.” She pointed to the panel in the wall near the windows, with its difficult-to-see latch in the wainscoting. “It likely leads to the hotel gardens. We could get Emily out that way, where there are fewer eyes. There will be a path around to the drive to find your carriage.”

Susan’s gaze flickered toward the hidden door with relief. “That would be ideal. Thank you, Juniper. Could you find Jack and let him know? He should be waiting in the gardens when we come out.”

Juniper nodded, leaving her sobbing friend with regret and slipping quietly out of the room to make her way back down the corridor. As she neared the ballroom, she spotted him emerging from the crowd, his expression dark and worried.

“Mr. Sterling,” she called as she approached, just loud enough to catch his attention.

He turned quickly, his eyes searching her face as he approached, clearly bracing himself for the worst. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. “Is Emily all right?”

“She is in the withdrawing room with Susan,” Juniper replied, stepping closer to ensure they weren’t overheard. Who knew who their enemies were? “We have found a way to get her out without drawing attention. There is a servants’ door that leads to the gardens. If you could wait there, Susan will bring Emily out to you. ”

“Thank you, Lady Juniper.” Jack’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his expression remained grim. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

She offered him a faint, though she hoped reassuring, smile. “I am glad I could be of some assistance. Emily deserves better than this. All of you do.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as if steeling himself for what was to come. “I will go to the gardens,” he said, his gaze steady. “And I will see to it that Emily is taken home safely.”

With that, he turned and strode purposefully down the corridor, disappearing around the corner which led to the side entrance and the path to the gardens. Juniper watched him go, her heart aching for both Jack and Emily, before she hurried back to the withdrawing room. After she reassured both Sterling ladies of Jack’s agreement to wait for them, she opened the door and watched them disappear into the dimly lit servants’ corridor.

Though she wished to go with them, it was not her place. Juniper had played her part in the drama, and she could do no more than return to the ball. She wanted to find Ivy, or Teague, someone she could tell the whole story to and find help. If only her late mother’s cousin, the Duchess of Montfort, was present. Her Grace would know what to do.

Returning to the ballroom, she had barely taken a step along the wall, alert for any sign of her family, when Mr. Waldegrave appeared before her with a smug little smile on his pompous face.

Suspicion instantly sprouted in her heart. “Mr. Waldegrave. I did not know you were here this evening.” How had he secured an invitation to an event of such note?

“I am accompanying my mother, Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave, of course,” he said with a smirk. “As my uncle the Earl of Kepton could not come, I am here in his stead. Though I cannot blame you for missing my presence earlier, Lady Atella’s guest list was not exactly exclusive, was it?”

She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon? Whatever could you mean, sir?” If he meant what she thought he did…

“I speak, of course, of your rather unfortunate friends, the Sterlings—who else? I believe I just saw the Lord Benwaith and his wife leave, and the rest of their upstart clan has mysteriously disappeared.” The gleam in his eye made her think it was no mystery to him why they had gone.

Could Mr. Waldegrave be the person behind Emily’s distress? Juniper had to find out. Unfortunately, she hadn’t time for any of the tricks that worked in her favored novels. She could not spy upon him, nor root through his belongings for his secrets, nor bribe a servant or disguise herself as a footman. No, it was direct words that were needed here, not deceit.

Juniper stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “Did you speak unkindly to my friend, Mr. Waldegrave?”

Surprise flickered across his expression before he frowned, bottom lip protruding in an absurd pout for a fully grown man. “What an accusation, Lady Juniper. Hardly a polite thing to ask a gentleman of my prestigious rank.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A lady of rank has asked you a direct question. Did you speak to my friend this evening, Mr. Waldegrave?”

His chest puffed out. “Ask her yourself.”

“You did,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “What did you say to her? Tell me this instant, or I will report your ungentlemanly conduct both to my guardian and to Lord Atella—who is a close family friend, I need not point out, and he might feel required to ask you to leave. Publicly.”

“You are making a scene, Lady Juniper.”

No one was looking their way, yet she continued bravely, “I do not care in the slightest. This is the last time I will ask you, sir, before I act in a way which will humiliate you much more than it will me.”

Mr. Waldegrave glanced about, tension at his temples, then hissed, “Fine. If you must know, I told her that all of Society would soon be aware of her callous ways, leading men on and casting them aside to find bigger and better prospects—acting above the station to which she was born, when she is undeserving of the title of lady.”

At last she understood. Oh, it was so clear now. “You. You have been the one telling lies about the family.”

“Suppositions,” he corrected with a pompous sniff. “My family has influence—standards. We will not stand to see the peerage brought low by those who do not belong.”

Never in her life had Juniper been so tempted to strike someone, and though her anger was righteous, she balled her gloved hands into fists at her side and did nothing but glower at the man for several long seconds. Then she heaved a shaking breath. “I suggest you leave at once, sir, as I am reporting your ungentlemanly conduct to our hosts immediately.” She turned on her heel and stormed through the crowd without another word or glance at him.

Mr. Waldegrave deserved no more of her notice.

Juniper made her way to the head of the ball room, where she had last seen Lord Atella, giving heed to nothing along her way—until a gentle hand took her forearm, stilling her. She looked sharply at the person who had touched her, hackles risen thanks to her unpleasant interaction with that brute, but froze. “Mrs. Grey?”

The wife of Juniper’s favorite author stared at her with wide eyes. “Lady Juniper, my dear, are you all right? You look quite distressed. Please, may I help you?”

Tears suddenly pricked at Juniper’s eyes and she shook her head slightly. “I do not know that you or anyone else can.” Her words sounded far more helpless than she meant them to, her throat quivering.

Mrs. Grey took her hand and brought her to stand beside a large potted tree. “You looked like an avenging angel, going through the crowd. Please, tell me what I can do. Shall I fetch someone for you? Are you unwell?”

In the face of such unexpected kindness, Juniper’s strength faltered for a moment. She was not a heroine in one of her books, nor was she especially wise. She certainly wasn’t powerful. And as the helplessness closed around her heart, she found herself pouring out the story of Lady Emily’s unmerited distress to the kind woman before her.

To her credit, Mrs. Grey nodded and did not interrupt. She absorbed all of Juniper’s words. Then she pursed her lips. “I think I might be able to help you, my dear. It sounds as though what the Sterling family needs is a stronger line of support than what even your kind friends and family can provide.”

Juniper raised one gloved hand to rub at her temple. Her head ached from trying to keep back her tears, and from her repressed rage at the unfairness of it all. “Who would even bother themselves with such matters? I know of no one, not until the Duke of Montfort comes to London. He may not even appear at all this Season, depending on the birth of his grandchild.”

“The Duke of Montfort is not the only duke in the realm, my dear.” Mrs. Grey smiled almost mischievously. “Do you know, my husband’s books are quite popular. There is a guest here this evening who is especially fond of reading his Gothic tales. Perhaps you should meet her. I mean, of course, Her Grace the Duchess of Bedford.”

Juniper’s mouth fell open. Everyone knew Her Grace, Georgiana Russell, a patron of the arts and a first lady of fashion. A queen in Society, if only a duchess by rank.

Mrs. Grey’s expression turned to one of determination as she said calmly, “Compose yourself, my dear. I am going to introduce you, and your dear friend’s problem, to Her Grace this very minute.”

Hardly able to keep up with such a whirlwind of an evening, Juniper nodded at once. It could not hurt to seek the help of Her Grace. Perhaps the esteemed woman would have advice, if nothing else, that would provide guidance. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and wiping her damp eyes, Juniper followed Mrs. Grey back into the throng—this time, in search of a duchess.