Chapter 3

Juliette had been startled by the unexpected appearance of the stranger. She had bent down to sniff one of the flowers before being startled by the sound of someone behind her. Turning, she had found a man – one who she vaguely recognized from the ball earlier on – standing watching her.

Juliette had hoped to pass the evening alone, but given this was not her house, and the man obviously knew his way around, it would have been churlish to have dismissed him. Instead, she now found herself sitting opposite him beneath the glass roof of the orangery, wondering what it was that had caused him to leave the intrigues of the ballroom behind.

"Why would a man want to get away from the excitement of a ball?" Juliette asked, and the man smiled.

"Because I can't stand the attention – all those eyes on me. Silly young ladies, giggling behind fans, and their equally ridiculous mothers pushing them forward," he said.

Juliette smiled, thinking of her own mother, who would have done just the same.

"Yes, I see…" she replied, realizing her mother would not approve of her finding herself alone in the orangery with a stranger, unchaperoned.

"And what about you? Aren't all attractive young ladies minded towards marriage?" he asked, and Juliette blushed.

She did not consider herself particularly attractive, though it was kind of him to say so.

"How do you know I'm not already married?" she asked, and the stranger laughed.

"Well… there's no ring on your finger. Though I know not all women wear them," he replied, and Juliette laughed.

"Then I could be, but then again, perhaps not," she replied, raising her eyebrows.

He was an attractive man, with dark blond hair and dark blue eyes. The golden sunlight of the late evening picked out the handsome features of his face, a firm jawline, and well-defined sideburns. He was… charming, flirtatious, even…

"Then I won't press you, and if you'd rather I left, you only need to say," he said, but Juliette shook her head.

He, too, had sought refuge in the orangery, and there was no harm in their doing so together, given their shared desire to avoid being matched with another. Juliette had no intention of dancing with any of her mother's choices, and it seemed the stranger felt the same. Juliette was curious about him, wondering why so many women should be interested in making a match with him.

"No, please… I won't send you back in there – not on my account. I… well, my mother wanted me to dance with a certain man, but I didn't want to. She'll be angry with me later, but it's worth it to pass the evening here. Isn't the light beautiful?" Juliette said, looking up at the roof of the orangery, where the light of the setting sun was breaking through the canopy of vines and citrus trees, as though liquid fire was pouring down around them.

The stranger nodded.

"I've always loved coming in here. It's… beautiful," he said, and Juliette nodded.

"You know the house well, then?" she asked.

"I'm Lady Rankin's godson," he said.

Juliette still did not know who he was – his name eluded her, and she felt somewhat embarrassed at the fact, fearing he assumed she knew who he was.

"Ah, yes. My mother and Lady Rankin are friends. I'm here with her and my cousin, Emily," Juliette said.

The man nodded and smiled.

"Perhaps… well… perhaps it would be pertinent if we remained nameless to one another. If we're to spend the rest of the evening here seeking refuge from the storm of the ballroom, it might be best if we weren't known to one another – for the sake of discretion. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what the ton can be like. I'd hate for you to be compromised on my account," he said.

Juliette nodded. He was right. If her mother knew she had spent the evening alone in the company of a man, she would not be happy. News of such things had a nasty habit of spiraling into something more, and of being claimed as scandal, where no scandal existed. There were those of Juliette's acquaintance who would delight in sullying her name with scandal, and she had no intention of allowing them to do so.

"Yes, that would be… wise. And you may think what you wish about my being married," Juliette replied.

The stranger laughed.

"Then I'll assume you to be the Countess of Rutland, and despite your obvious youth, I'll assign you five, no, six children – all healthy and growing up fast," he said, and Juliette could not help but laugh at the stranger's words, so farfetched did they seem.

The very thought of it was extraordinary – the thought of marriage was extraordinary.

"And I'll think of you as… having a beautiful wife with whom you're head over heels in love," Juliette replied.

The stranger smiled and shook his head.

"Well… I don't mind admitting it's not true. I'm not married. I'm a confirmed bachelor, though there're many who'd prefer I wasn't – as long as they were the one to who I was married," the man replied.

There was a sense of regret in his voice, and Juliette wondered if perhaps he had been hurt in the past – either by accident or design.

"Perhaps it's best if we talk about something else. We're going to be here for a while, though I don't know what we'll do when the sun goes down," she said.

The light was failing, and it would not be long before the orangery was plunged into darkness. When that was the case, they would be forced to return to the ballroom, though Juliette intended to hide herself in the shadows for as long as possible.

"You're right. The less we know about one another, the better," he replied.

Juliette thought for a moment, trying to think of something they could talk about without revealing more about themselves – she could not ask about his family, or his connections. Nor could she talk about her own. A sudden thought occurred to her, and she smiled.

"Do you know much about the plants here in the orangery?" she asked.

"A little, yes – only from my godmother. They say this is one of the finest collections of citrus plants in the world. It rivals Kew, and anything in the royal palaces. Lord Rankin was an explorer in his day – he brought every specimen back and had the hothouse built to his own design. It's remarkable, isn't it?" he said.

"Quite remarkable, yes. I recognize some of the fruits. But not all of them," Juliette said, looking around her at the exotic offerings hanging from the branches.

There were oranges and lemons, bright green limes, and larger pomelos in all manner of sizes. It was a remarkable sight, and Juliette was interested in knowing more about them.

"I don't know all of their names. I've tried some of them. As a boy, I once got into terrible trouble for picking the last fruit on a particularly fine lemon tree Lord Rankin had brought back from Sicily. It died, and I discovered to my detriment the folly of eating lemons…" the stranger said.

Juliette laughed, picturing the man's face as a boy, biting into the flesh of the sour lemon.

"Oh, how terrible," she exclaimed, puckering her lips.

"It certainly taught me a lesson; the folly of choosing sour over sweet," he replied, shaking his head.

Juliette liked him. He did not seem to take himself too seriously, and he was somewhat self-effacing – a welcome relief from the sort of arrogant men her mother so often insisted on introducing her to. She wondered why he should be so set against the idea of marriage, for certain he had charm – and handsome looks. Perhaps he was thinking the same about her, curious to know if she really was married or not.

"And so, from thereon, you always choose sweet?" she asked.

"A little sourness can be pleasant – take the pomelo, for example. It's not as sweet as an orange, but not as sour as a lemon. I suppose it's a little like life itself – sometimes sweet and sometimes sour. One has to accept both, I suppose," he said, glancing up at the nearest pomelo tree, the fruit of which hung heavily on the branches.

"Do you think Lady Rankin would miss one or two?" Juliette asked, for she had a sudden desire to try one, and the stranger smiled.

"Perhaps we could share one – we're already doing more than we should. A little… mischief won't hurt, will it?" he asked, and from the pocket of his frock coat, he produced a small flick knife and reached up to cut the nearest fruit from its branch.

Juliette had never tasted a pomelo before, and now she watched as he cut into the flesh, the juice spurting out as he did so. It had a greenish tinge to it, a little like a lime, but larger, and shaped almost like a squat pear. The stranger cut a piece, handing it to her on the tip of his knife.

"It's delicious," Juliette exclaimed, as she bit into it.

"Not too sweet, and not too sour," the man replied, cutting himself a piece.

Juliette breathed in the sweet, perfumed scent of the flesh, desirous of more, and now he cut a whole wedge of the fruit, handing it to her in her sticky fingers. She smiled at him – the sharing of such mischief was far more exciting than dancing a waltz with some ancient aristocrat.

"I could eat a dozen," Juliette declared, and the man laughed.

"Then we really would be caught. Lord Rankin counts his fruit, I'm sure. But one won't hurt, I'm sure," he said, cutting the last of the pomelo into two pieces and handing her the larger piece.

Soon, only the pieces of skin remained, and the stranger took them and buried them in a far corner of the orangery. It was the perfect crime, though it left Juliette wanting more.

"I wish we had an orangery," Juliette said, for her own garden was dull in comparison – filled with roses, her mother's pride and joy.

"You can see them for yourself in Europe, of course. Lemons and oranges grown in abundance on the Italian peninsula," the man said, and Juliette sighed – the Italian peninsula was where Nicholas was, and now she pictured him surrounded by orange trees, satiated on the juice and flesh.

"I've never been there before. I'd like to, but… I don't think I ever will," Juliette said, shaking her head sadly.

When Nicholas had announced his intention to go to Europe, Juliette had allowed herself to imagine going with him. She had almost expected him to ask her, even as she knew her parents would never have allowed it.

An unmarried man and woman could not go off on a grand tour together – unless they were brother and sister, of course. But Juliette had imagined a hasty wedding, and the adventure of setting off together for distant lands. The truth had been quite different, and no such proposal had come…

"Why not? I did my grand tour some years ago – Paris, Vienna, Verona, Venice, Florence, Rome. I even went to the Iberian Peninsula and saw Seville and one or two other places. It was quite the adventure," the man said.

"My… a friend is on his grand tour now," Juliette replied.

"And I'm sure he's enjoying it very much. But I wonder if you should be getting back now. It's one thing for a man to slip away and do as he please at a ball, but quite another for a woman to do so. I don't want you to get into any trouble on my account – or for the rumor of a scandal to spread," he said, and Juliette nodded.

She had enjoyed the company of the stranger – he had demanded nothing of her, nor expected anything of her. They had talked about pleasant things, and for a short while, Juliette had forgotten her troubles, even as the mention of the grand tour had brought back thoughts of Nicholas.

"No… you're right. But… thank you," Juliette said, rising to her feet.

It seemed ludicrous not to know his name, and yet she knew the logic in avoiding it, not wanting to court the possibility of scandal.

"Thank you for allowing me to share the sanctuary of the orangery," he said, rising to his feet as well.

He gave a curt bow, and Juliette curtsied to him, smiling as she turned, but as she did so, her skirts caught on one of the tree branches, and she tripped, falling to the floor. But before she could tumble over, his hand grabbed her, saving her from injury, even as she let out a cry.

"Oh, goodness me," she exclaimed, as now he held her in his arms, looking down at her and smiling, holding her gaze.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as he helped her to his feet.

His swift action had saved her. Had she fallen to the tiled floor, Juliette might easily have broken her wrist or sprained her ankle, and the thought of explaining such a misdemeanor to her mother did not bear thinking about.

"Yes… thank you. I don't know what happened," she said - it had not been intentional, though now she found herself in his arms, she realized how easily the scene could be mistaken for scandal, for no man had ever held her in his arms, even by accident.

"As long as you're all right," he said, and Juliette nodded, stepping back and dusting down her dress.

"Oh, yes - quite all right, thank you. I was just being foolish. But… it really has been ever so nice talking to you," she said, and he smiled at her.

"I've enjoyed talking to you, too. But you should get back. I don't have my mother here breathing down my neck - and even if I did, I wouldn't have to listen to her," he said, winking at her, as they said goodbye.

Juliette blushed. She would gladly have remained in the stranger's company. It had been a delightful conversation; one she would gladly have continued had the situation allowed. She did not know what time it was, but the shadows were lengthening, and it would soon be dark. Leaving the orangery, with its heady scent of citrus behind, Juliette hurried back to the ballroom, just as the last dance was finishing.

She had missed everything, and now she wondered what her mother would say when she saw her returned. But it had been worth it - worth her mother's wrath - and now she smiled at the thought of the secret she now kept, the secret of the stranger in the orangery…