The tinkling of a small bell welcomed the young women into the shop and alerted its proprietor to their presence. With a polite nod, he quickly returned to his work, and Callie and Mariana moved to browse the latest novels, leaving Juliana to consider an appropriate gift for her brothers.

The younger girl had never considered how difficult it might be to choose the perfect gift for Ralston and St. John—something that spoke to their unique interests and would hold additional meaning as the first gift they received from their new, unexpected sister.

After a quarter of an hour of browsing, Juliana had finally selected a large book of illustrations of Pompeii for Nick, hoping that his love of the ancient world would make it the perfect gift.

Ralston, however, presented a challenge. She knew so little of him, aside from the long hours he spent at his piano late at night. Moving through the shop, Juliana ran her fingers along the spines of large, leather-bound tomes, wondering what might be the right choice for her eldest brother.

Finally, she paused, lingering over a German volume on Mozart, nibbling on her lower lip as she considered the book.

“If one is looking for a biography of Mozart, there is none better than that. Niemetschek knew the maestro personally.”

Juliana started, spinning toward the voice.

Scant inches away, stood the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

He was tall and broad, with eyes the color of honey warmed in the sun. The late-afternoon light that streamed into the bookshop played on his golden curls and underscored the perfect lines of his straight nose and strong jaw.

“I—” She stopped, her mind racing as she attempted to remember the rules of conduct for such a situation. Callie and she had never discussed proper conduct when approached by an angel in regard to musical biographies. Certainly it would not be inappropriate to thank him. Would it? “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I hope you will enjoy it.”

“Oh, it is not for me. It is a gift. For my brother.”

“Ah, well then I hope he will enjoy it.” He paused, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

Juliana grew nervous in the silence, eventually saying, “I am sorry, sir. I am fairly certain that we are not allowed to converse.”

He gave her a small, crooked smile, sending a wave of warmth through her. “Only fairly certain?”

“Almost positive. I am new to London and your rules, but I seem to remember something about our needing to be introduced.” Her blue eyes flashed.

“That is a pity. What do you think will happen if we were discovered? Discussing books in a public place by light of day?”

The scandal in his tone drew a little laugh from her. “One never knows. The earth might well swallow us whole for such a dangerous activity.”

“Well, I would hate to place a lady in such imminent danger. And so, I will take my leave, and hope that someday we will have cause for proper introductions.”

For a fleeting moment, she considered calling Callie or Mariana over to make the introductions, but she felt certain that kind of thing was not done. Instead, she blinked up at the golden man. “I shall hope the same.”

He bowed low then, and was gone, the only sign that he had been there at all the faint tinkling of the bell above the bookshop’s door announcing his exit.

Unable to stop herself, Juliana moved to the window, watching him as he strode down the street.

“Juliana?” Callie spoke from nearby. “Have you selected your books?”

Turning with a smile, Juliana nodded. “I have. Do you think that Gabriel will enjoy a biography on Mozart?”

Callie considered the title. “I think that is a fine choice.”

Juliana took a deep breath, pleased. “Tell me, do you know that man?”

Mari followed the direction of Juliana’s gaze, taking in the tall, golden man moving quickly away from the shop. Wrinkling her nose, she looked back at Juliana and said, “Why?”

“No reason,” Juliana hedged, “He is…familiar.”

Mari shook her head. “I doubt you know him. I can’t imagine his even deigning to visit Italy, let alone actually speak to someone Italian.”

“Mari…” Callie said, caution in her tone.

“But, who is he?” Juliana pressed.

Callie waved one hand dismissively, heading for the sales counter. “The Duke of Leighton.”

“He is a duke?” Juliana asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Mari nodded, guiding her friend to the front of the bookshop. “And a thoroughly awful one. Considers anyone with a lesser title to be entirely beneath him. Which doesn’t leave him many equals.”

“Mariana! Must you insist on gossiping in public?”

“Oh, come, Callie. Admit that you cannot suffer Leighton.”

“Well, of course not,” Callie said in a low voice. “No one can. I do try not to announce my distaste to entire book-shops, however.”

Juliana considered their conversation. He hadn’t seemed at all distasteful. But, then, he hadn’t known who she was. Certainly if he had discovered she was a merchant’s daughter…

“Are there many like him? Many who will discount me immediately, simply because of my birth?”

Mariana and Callie exchanged a brief glance at the question before Callie waved a hand in the air, and said, “If there are, they are not worth the effort. There are plenty who will adore you. Never fear.”

“Indeed,” Mari added with a smile. “And do not forget that I am soon to be a duchess myself. And then…hang them all!”

“I should not like them to be killed,” Juliana said, worriedly.

The other women looked confused for a brief moment before Callie laughed, understanding that Mariana’s words had been lost in translation. “It is an expression, Juliana. No one shall be hanged. It simply means that Mariana will not care about them.”

Understanding dawned. “Ah! Capisco. I understand! Si. Hang them!”

The three women all laughed together and Juliana paid for her brothers’ gifts. After a footman had been charged to deliver their wrapped packages to the carriage, she turned a bright smile on the other women. “Where shall we go next?”

Mariana smiled broadly and announced, “The glover, of course. A woman cannot very well make her debut without opera gloves, can she?”

Ten

Callie stood at the edge of the Rivington box at the Theatre Royal, unable to contain her satisfied smile as she scanned the rest of the audience, noting the scores of opera glasses pointed in the direction of Miss Juliana Fiori.

If the attention were any indication, title or no, daughter of a fallen marchioness or no, Juliana would make a remarkable debut.

The opera had not even begun and, already, the box was mobbed with visitors, from pillars of the ton who came, ostensibly, to visit with the dowager duchess, and, as such, happened to meet the lovely young Juliana, to young men of society who were less discreet about the reason for their visit to the box—arriving and promptly falling over themselves for an introduction.

The evening could not have been more perfectly orchestrated, and Callie was taking full responsibility for its success.

Juliana had arrived at opening night in the Allendale carriage and, to Callie’s delight, the young woman had alighted with grace and aplomb, as though being set on display for the judgment of London’s aristocracy were the most natural thing in the world. Once inside the theatre, Juliana had removed her cloak to reveal her stunning satin evening dress, which had been delivered to Ralston House in perfect condition that morning; Madame Hebert had outdone herself on the gown, which was shot through with gold threads and sure to be the envy of every other woman in the house.




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