There was no indication from R.J. that the delay had been a pleasant, passionate one. If Juliet did not have her own warm memories of the intimacy they had shared not long ago, she would have refused to believe that R.J. Hopkins knew such emotion existed.
"No harm done. After all, we are family here." Jonathan Hopkins did not precisely smile, but Juliet felt that was the meaning of the small movement of his lips. To her surprise, he moved to where she was about to sit down, took her by the shoulders, and leaned over to peck her cheek. "I'm certain you will not disappoint us tomorrow, when we have guests."
Juliet sank gratefully into the chair R.J. held out for her, pleased to see that he then moved to sit opposite her. She needed his reassurance that she did indeed belong here. The tension in the ornately decorated room was palpable.
Before she could think of something witty to break the tension, however, Annabel smiled grimly at R.J. "I invited Phineas and Drusilla to dine with us tomorrow." She turned to Juliet. "Dr. Abernathy's wife will offer you entrée to the best houses, if you impress her, my dear."
"I shall do my best." Juliet smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. "And I promise I shall not curtsey even once."
Annabel's lips pursed and she placed her soup spoon down deliberately. "I know that our customs seem odd to you. But I have assured R.J. that I will see that you make a good impression upon society on our side of the pond."
"Thank you." Juliet was grateful for the offer, despite her misgivings about Annabel's opinion of her. "I have so much to learn. Perhaps we may begin with locating a suitable home for us?" She smiled at R.J., and felt her heart freeze when he looked as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant.
"About that." Annabel's eyes practically gleamed. "R.J. and his father have agreed it is wise for the two of you to remain under our roof while I tutor you in the ways of our society."
Juliet pasted on her brightest smile as she gazed at her traitorous husband. "Indeed? That is too marvelous for words. I cannot begin to express my appreciation for your kindness." No. She could not. Not until she had her husband alone could she express her feelings.
R.J. braced himself to receive the anger he had felt building in Juliet all evening long, until they were at last alone. Instead, she gave him nothing but silence.
He considered whether to let her think her poor mood did not affect him. Though it would probably be wiser to handle her pout by ignoring it, he reminded himself that she was a stranger to his country, to his home. "We shall be in our own home by Christmas, I promise you. Can't you see the wisdom of remaining here?"
As if he had unwittingly broken a dam inside her, she let out her words in a rush. "Can't you see the benefits of having our own household as soon as possible? I can visit Annabel daily if I must. I expected to set up your household. To show you that I can make you comfortable. How shall I do that without a house of our own?"
He closed his eyes to blot out the sight of her misery. "I do not want to cause a breach with my father. If I indicate I do not trust him in this matter…." He opened his eyes and gestured dismissively. "I will not question his judgment."
"But you will allow him to question yours?"
Thinking of her curtsey to his father, he asked, "Do you deny that you are not conversant with our manners?"
Juliet was not ready to concede the point. "We forgave your manners, and your sister's, why should I not expect the same courtesy from your countrymen?"
He grinned, ruefully acknowledging the truth of her words. "No doubt you will be forgiven by the gentlemen. But it is the ladies you must ally yourself with."
Her eyes widened and she paled. Instead of making her laugh, as he had intended, he had somehow hurt her. "Is it me that you do not trust to be alone in my own household while you attend to your business all day long? Are you afraid I will disgrace you if I am not under your stepmother's eye at all times? Or do you still worry that I shall lead your sister astray?"
"Of course not," he lied. He pulled her into his arms and she did not resist, to his great relief. He found he did not like it when she was cold to him. Her coldness bled the color out of his world.
* * * * *
A more mismatched couple than Dr. Phineas Abernathy and his wife was impossible to imagine.
When the two entered the drawing room, Annabel practically fluttered like the finches she kept in cages by the windows. "Drusilla, how have you been?"
The woman, who was short and stout and swathed in blue silk like an elegant pincushion, kissed Annabel's cheek and patted her shoulder lightly. "Eager to hear reports of your trip to London, where Susannah no doubt charmed her way into the hearts of all the eligible lords of the land."
Annabel's enthusiasm dimmed briefly. "She charmed many, of course, but found none to her liking, I'm afraid."
"Sensible girl," Dr. Abernathy said as he accepted a drink from the maid. "Why cloister herself across the sea in a drafty estate when she can be the toast of Boston." Juliet tried not to stare. The doctor was handsome to the point of sin. Dark curling hair, warm green eyes, and an expansive nature that made one feel as if he had been a friend since childhood.
She smiled a genuine smile at him, prompted to an almost natural response by his open, approving gaze.
Annabel's eyes narrowed and she hastily crossed to take Juliet's arm with unnecessary vigor. "Although Susannah did not find a husband to suit herself, R.J. has come home with a bride. Allow me to introduce the newest Mrs. Hopkins." She smiled blandly at Juliet as she pressed her hand like a claw into Juliet's upper arm. "My dear, these are my dearest friends in all the world, Dr. and Mrs. Phineas Abernathy."
"What a beauty you caught across the sea, R.J." the doctor said with an appreciative survey of Juliet that made her flush warmly as she turned to see that R.J. and his father had at last broken off their business dealings to join the newly arrived guests.
"I'm afraid I ran off with the toast of London, Phineas." R.J. did not noticeably take offense at the compliment to his wife by another man. Juliet wondered if she should worry about his lack of reaction, or be pleased by the implication of trust.
Dr. Abernathy's wife, on the other hand, was clearly not charmed by the new addition to the Hopkins's family. "How nice it is to meet R.J.'s new wife." She spoke "wife" with her mouth pursed small and the word a mere exhalation of breath, as if she might say plague. "I hope you are finding our country hospitable after having to leave yours so abruptly."
"I am finding it so congenial I cannot wait until I am settled with a house of my own so that I can entertain and make R.J. proud." Juliet did not like the cold glance she received from the woman's small eyes, even though the welcome was properly phrased. Was there a certain emphasis on the fact that she had left abruptly.
Annabel's grip tightened. "Of course, before that can happen, she must learn our ways. I am eager to show her what being a Boston society darling requires."
"You are too generous," Juliet lied with a smile. She broke free of Annabel's grip to stand beside R.J., wondering what stories had preceded her arrival in Boston. Had Annabel told her friend the true story behind the marriage? She hoped not. Those eyes were not friendly, and the woman seemed likely to be a harsh judge of others.
Drusilla Abernathy was somewhat older than her handsome husband. A portly woman with none of the warmth of some women of a certain age, her small, round eyes gazed out upon the world with suspicion, following every movement in the room. Perhaps the obvious age difference between herself and her husband had led to the air of jealous watchfulness that permeated the atmosphere around her.
Juliet was certain the doctor's wife could have accurately recited the type, color, and number of each flower in the elaborate flower arrangements placed around the room. As well as each dish served as they moved into the dining room and the maids served the courses, and any tiny infraction of etiquette committed during the course of service. Again, she thought, a more mismatched couple than these two she could not imagine. How had Annabel supposed that this woman would agree to sponsor Juliet into society?
As the conversation flowed around her, the tension lessened considerably. She learned that Dr. Abernathy was a physician of repute in Boston.
Apparently, judging by the conversation and swiftly exchanged glances of understanding between them, Drusilla and Annabel were friends of long standing. The easy communication between the two women made her homesick once again for her sisters.
Deliberately, Juliet did not try to force herself into the conversation. Though Susannah and R.J. made polite attempts to involve her, she knew that she would find out far more by just listening to them speak to each other than she would if they spent their time questioning her about London and English society in general.
She was grateful, though, for Dr. Abernathy's witty asides to her, which as a rule required no more than a smile or a laugh. The oppressive air of respectability and responsibility seemed to lift with someone else at the table who knew how to smile long and often. Dr. Abernathy's charm and engaging personality lightened everyone's mood — even, to Juliet's astonishment, Annabel's.
His laughter was not completely unrestrained, she knew. His wife's reproving sniffs brought a shadow to his eyes and too often served to dampen the mood he had strived to lift. But he said nothing to her. He did not even give her a glance of reproach.
Juliet suspected that he sometimes flirted a little overmuch with her just to provoke a sniff or a "Phineas!" from his wife. She did her best to ignore her suspicions, however, for it was so pleasant simply to enjoy his company.
Unfortunately, as the evening progressed, the warm attentions of Dr. Abernathy only increased her unease. Each time he flirted with Juliet, his wife's mouth pinched in more narrowly. Juliet was not unfamiliar with the reaction and had rarely troubled herself about such foolishness before. If Drusilla Abernathy could not recognize the difference between amusement and seduction, she was likely to frown herself into a prune face within the next decade of her marriage.
Juliet was quite sure that Dr. Abernathy flirted from natural temperament, not attraction, as he shared his attentions equally between Juliet and Annabel, who giggled like a schoolgirl once, to Juliet's dismay. If he also took a little pleasure in his wife's disapproval, that was only to be expected. The woman found little pleasure in anything. Even the dishes she consumed to the last crumb were dismissed with comments like "Too salty." "Too dry." And, most outrageously, "Too tender." She had the manner of a duchess without the title.
The only restraint Dr. Abernathy showed in his flirtations was toward Susannah. At first, Juliet thought nothing of the fact that he treated the girl more like a child than a young woman who might soon be married. Any family friend might think of a daughter of the house in such a way.
Her heart sank, though, when she observed Susannah's reaction to such treatment. She laughed too loudly at his jokes. She watched his every move. She listened to every word he said as if they were each a pearl of wisdom she must not miss. Juliet glanced at R.J., to see if he had noticed, but he did not seem to pay attention to the clues his sister was leaving everyone at the table. Juliet had seen her sister Hero, not to mention countless other London misses, behave in just the same fashion when in the presence of the man to whom they had lost their hearts. The girl was obviously smitten with the good doctor.
As she watched the pair, Juliet at first assumed that his restraint was due to his certain knowledge that there was no hope of a dalliance with a young, unmarried daughter of friends. Gradually, she became certain that more was at work.
Whenever Susannah would attempt to gain his attention, he would divert the conversation back to a safe topic in which they could all converse. His actions were deliberate, and his ease in changing the subject suggested to Juliet that he had grown used to doing so.
Experience had taught her that it was not easy to change the flow of conversation to avoid flirtatious exchanges when someone as persistent as Susannah was involved. Nor was it possible to remain unaware of the tender feelings of the other party. Apparently, the two of them had been engaging in this little conversational dance for quite some time.
That he still went to great trouble to keep Susannah from unwittingly revealing her feelings to her family raised a warning sign. The man obviously cared for Susannah. She only hoped he would do nothing about his feelings. The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet would be nothing compared to their agony should he reveal his feelings to the romantic and impressionable Susannah.
No wonder Susannah had been so relieved to escape London without a husband. She had focused her admiration on someone here in Boston. Someone dashing and admirable. Someone she was perhaps too young to understand she could never have. Juliet remembered her own devastating interest in Freddie. Common sense had not played a part in her daydreams. She had been so caught up in emotion that she had not been willing to consider the consequences were she to steal him from his fiancée.
Susannah was more sensible, though. Not that being sensible could change her reaction when the good doctor told an amusing story. Only time, and a more suitable man, would do that. Juliet allowed herself a moment of regret for Susannah's inevitable heartbreak. Phineas Abernathy and Susannah Hopkins might have made a good match — if Drusilla Abernathy had not already married the man when Susannah was still in the schoolroom.
She wondered briefly what had made Abernathy choose a woman who took such pains to dim his natural charm. The answer, she realized with a pang of sorrow for Susannah, was as old as time. Wealth. Influence that had made him a sought after physician.
She glanced at R.J. There was another age-old reason for a mismatch. Did he regret the night he had climbed her balcony? He spent so little time with her in the daylight that she sometimes forgot she was married for hours at a time. Until night fell and she remembered what bound them together — forever.