Chapter 1

Chapter 1

London, England, Summer, 1810.

“Pretend you didn’t see her,” Juliette Harcourt said, glancing at her cousin, Emily, who laughed.

“But I can’t pretend I didn’t see her. She’s looking straight at us,” Emily replied, as Juliette flicked open her fan, glancing over the top of it to where her mother was standing with their host, Lady Rankin looking straight towards them.

“Oh… but she’s going to force us to dance. I know just what she’s saying – she’s telling Lady Rankin she’s beginning to despair of either of us every marrying. Lady Rankin will make some comment about their being plenty of eligible bachelors here tonight and suggest she could make introductions for us both. My mother will agree, and we’ll each be caught in the company of some ghastly bachelor for the rest of the evening,” Juliette replied.

She knew what her mother was doing, and sure enough, as she glanced again over her fan, she saw Lady Rankin gesture towards a gentleman standing alone at the far end of the ballroom. Her mother now advanced towards him, and Juliette knew it would only be a matter of a few moments before she found herself unable to escape the man’s company–however dull it might be. Emily smiled.

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me. I’ve already promised the next dance to Lord Wilmington. I don’t find him dull at all,” she said, and Juliette let out a whimper.

“Oh, Emily–don’t tell me you’re going to abandon me for the evening. I thought we were in this together,” Juliette exclaimed, but her cousin only laughed.

“What is it you’ve got against the possibility of a match? For all you know, the man your mother’s talking to might be the one for you?” she said, as Juliette glanced again over her fan to where her mother appeared to be interrogating the man at the far end of the ballroom.

She sighed and shook her head.

“Oh, but… you know I can’t, Emily. You know I don’t want it…” Juliette said, and her cousin now looked at her sympathetically.

“You can’t keep pining for Nicholas, Juliette. He’s been gone a year – he might never come back,” Emily replied, as now Juliette’s mother and her new introduction came towards them.

Juliette’s heart sank – what could she do?

“Make my excuses, Emily,” she said, and her cousin looked at her in astonishment.

“But… Juliette, no… you can’t…” she exclaimed, but Juliette had already slipped away through the crowd, knowing she would face her mother’s wrath later on, but in that moment, not caring, either.

The ballroom was busy – a waltz having just concluded – but Juliette had no intention of being cornered. She did not know why she had come to the Rankin ball that evening – though her mother had insisted on it. Her heart was not in it, and her cousin was right – she was pining for a man who she had not seen for almost a year.

“You can’t go on like this, Juliette. You have to put him out of your mind,” her mother had told her.

But Juliette could not put Nicholas out of her mind. He was her friend Henrietta’s older brother – a strikingly handsome man, whom Juliette had known since they were children.

The two had been friends, and as Juliette had grown into a young woman, her feelings for Nicholas had grown, too. She was in love with him, and was waiting for his return from Europe, where he had spent the past year on a grand tour. But when would he return? And would he be the same man who had left?

I can’t put him out of my mind, she thought to herself, as now she hurried out of the ballroom, hoping to spend the rest of the evening hiding from her mother and any potential “suitors.”

Juliette knew her mother wanted her to marry. She was twenty years old and had passed two seasons without furthering her chances of making a match in any way. There had been possibilities, of course – some more so than others.

But in any prospective encounter, Juliette had always found herself comparing the man in question to Nicholas – always finding him wanting. It was not that she did not want to get married – she did – but the prospect of doing so to anyone but her childhood sweetheart seemed impossible.

“And yet he never showed any sign of reciprocating,” Juliette told herself – and herein lay the problem.

It was one thing to be in love with a man who loved one back, but quite another to be in love with a man whose feelings were impossible to discern. In their childhood, and in their youth, there had been no doubting the affection they shared, but as for something more – something now – Juliette did not know.

She sighed to herself, glad to be away from the hustle and bustle of the ballroom, and now she found herself in the orangery – a large conservatory, where the Rankins grew citrus trees and exotic flowers. There was a sweet scent in the air – a heady perfume, and the atmosphere was warm, the heat of the day still lingering as the evening sun shone in through the glass roof above.

“I wonder if I can hide here for the rest of the evening,” Juliette thought to herself, for she had no desire to return to the ballroom and the attentions of her mother’s potential suitor.

She knew she had been rude, and yet Juliette also knew she was not prepared to settle for whoever her mother should choose for her. There had been talk – threat – of an arrangement being made, and Juliette knew she would never agree to such a thing, whatever her mother might say or attempt to arrange.

“She wouldn’t go that far, I’m certain of it. And when Nicholas returns, it won’t matter,” Juliette told herself.

She had been there on the day of his departure for the continent, waving him off with Henrietta and Emily. He had smiled at her, kissing her on the cheek, and telling her he would write to her. But no letters had been forthcoming, and not knowing where he was or where he intended to go, Juliette had not been able to write to him, either. The last she had heard of him, he had been in Florence, and was intending to travel to Rome.

“Oh, I haven’t heard from him, either. Goodness knows how one gets a letter from Florence to England,” Henrietta had said, when Juliette had tentatively inquired as to Nicholas’ whereabouts.

“He promised to write,” Juliette had said, but Henrietta had only smiled and patted her hand.

“You know what men are like – all empty promises and meaningless gestures,” she had said.

Juliette had not confided her feelings for Nicholas in Henrietta. The two were friends – close friends – and yet Juliette did not know how Nicholas’ sister would respond to her seeking romance with her brother. Her feelings for Nicholas were private, and yet she had hoped they would be reciprocated, too.

She had imagined an unspoken longing, picturing his return – the moment when he declared his love for her and proposed marriage. In her mind, it was the perfect match, for there was no doubting her love for him. But the more she thought about it, the less certain she became of his reciprocation. Did he love her as she loved him?

“Perhaps he doesn’t – perhaps I’m just being foolish,” Juliette thought to herself, as now she sat down by a large lemon tree and sighed.