Free The Rake's Redemption by Sherrill Bodine Page B

incomprehensible. One moment he looked at her with an aloof coldness that bordered on dislike, and the next she saw in his eyes a warmth that was quite pleasant, indeed.
    For some reason she did not understand he was no longer the same man who had walked with her in Mrs. Forbes’s garden and sat under the stars spellbound by Robbie’s music. Why had he changed? Had she somehow offended him? How? And what could she do to rectify her error? She would like him to be a friend, for London was his world, not hers, and she was a bit frightened of it. She had lived too long in the tranquility of Wentworth Park. She felt she had been drifting aimlessly for the last six years and now the hustle and bustle of the city was quickening her blood, tingling her nerves, opening her eyes again to the world.
    “Juliana, Freddie is waiting for an answer,” her aunt firmly reminded her.
    How long had she been woolgathering? Hot with embarrassment, she smiled her gentlest smile, the one she had perfected for Reverend Potts whenever she fell asleep during one of his sermons, and turned her eyes to Freddie’s expectant face.
    “I would be most happy to drive with you tomorrow. I quite look forward to it!”
    “I’m honored, Juliana,” Freddie bowed, his wide cheeks flushed with pleasure.
    For once Dominic’s expression was not difficult for Juliana to interpret. He was looking at her like a farmer mulling over what to do about the fox in his fowl yard. It would have been pleasant to match his stare with a cold one of her own, but she somehow maintained her fixed smile of pleasure until the door clicked shut behind them.
    Biting her lip, she twirled away, pacing restlessly from the carved mantel to the blue velvet hung windows, to the small, round gilt mirror over the rosewood table. She stared at her reflection. She had been told she was beautiful, but all she saw in the mirror were green eyes in a sometimes too pale face, a nose a bit short for real beauty, and a mouth with a full lower lip. Pulling thick auburn curls first one way and then another, she attempted to change that image but was not pleased with the results.
    Sophia subjected Juliana’s back and reflection to a critical survey. “You really are quite beautiful, my dear. There really is no need for concern.”
    Juliana gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, love. I shall allow you to flatter me, but…,” she frowned, “but I believe improvements could be made!”
    Marching to the bellpull, she gave it a strong tug. Almost immediately Smithers appeared in the doorway. He did not look pleased, but then Juliana had found he never did.
    “You require my services, ma’am?” he asked in sepulchral tones.
    Aunt Sophia rolled her eyes looking to Juliana. Taking a stance before the fireplace, Juliana clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
    “Smithers, I need your help,” she said firmly. “My aunt and I wish to cut a dash at Miss Charlotte’s ball, but we need advice. Who should gown us and dress our hair?” She gave him her most charmingly rueful grin. “Can you help us, Smithers? My Father always told me you were up to every rig and row in town.”
    Smithers’s sour expression did not alter in the slightest. “As to that, Miss Juliana, I cannot say. However, I have been informed that Monsieur Henri is a genius with a coiffure. I have likewise been informed that Madame Bretin on Bond Street is the finest modiste in London.” He bowed deeply. “I shall see to it, Ma’am.”
    Only after the door shut behind Smithers tall black-clad figure did Juliana allow herself a heartfelt sigh of relief.
    “My dear, you were superb!” Sophia laughed. “I have always been in awe of Smithers, although…,” she shrugged, “I can’t imagine why, because he looks exactly like your late father’s favorite hound Claudius. Have you ever noticed the resemblance?”
    “Aunt Sophia, please! How can you say such things about Smithers? He shall fix us up all right and tight. Father