Page 1 of The Rake and the Muse
Chapter 1
London, England - Spring 1813
Juliet Lane, the only child of the Earl of Avon, hid in the retiring room at the Fletchers’ ball, doing her best to catch her breath after she practically sprinted down the hall. The retiring room seemed like the only place she might avoid getting asked to dance by any other gentleman with wandering hands. After what she had experienced on the dance floor with Lord Dunblane, she didn’t much feel like dancing for the rest of the evening if she could help it.
Rejecting a dance with a gentleman just wasn’t done, which left her vulnerable to such partners if she remained in the ballroom. Lord Dunblane took it upon himself to grasp her bottom during each of theturns so that no one might notice. When his hands weren’t glued to her arse, his eyes were trained on her bosom. Which was hard to cover with the style of her dress and the way her stays positioned her ample breasts and made them appear even larger, if that were possible. She regretted that she hadn’t worn a fichu and wouldn’t ever make the same mistake again.
She was used to men staring at her, undressing her with their eyes. It was a usual occurrence at ton events. Juliet didn’t possess the small body of the other misses on the Marriage Mart. They salivated and hardly noticed her face, let alone anything she might have to say, once they took notice of her body. Her figure was shaped more like an hourglass, with an abundant pair of full breasts and curvy hips, with a shapely arse.
The sound of voices reached her as someone approached the room, and she resolved to remain in her hiding place behind the screen.
“She probably went home,” one young lady said. Juliet didn’t recognize her voice and didn’t dare peek her head out to see who it was.
“It makes you wonder,” another lady started, “how the modiste has enough fabric to fashion a dress for those hips.”
Both of the ladies laughed, proud of themselves. It wasn’t anything Juliet hadn’t heard before and she could only assume they were speaking about her.
In truth, the modiste had a terrible time fashioning dresses that were in high fashion because of her shape—not because of lack of fabric, but due to the current fashions, Juliet thought to herself. It was deuced annoying.
“Well, the gentlemen seem taken with her. It makes me wonder if we should start stuffing tissue paper into our stays.”
“They shall never marry her. Wishing to dally with a woman and marrying her are quite different.”
The ladies laughed again.
Juliet sensed another person had exited the screened area beside hers. “Lady Theodosia,” another unique voice started. “There is nary a man alive who would wish to do either with you.”
“You are one to talk,” the one Juliet assumed to be Lady Theodosia said. “And where exactly is your husband, Lady Eliza?”
“Hopefully he doesn’t exist,” the voice sounding again like Lady Eliza replied. “Although, based on the three marriage offers I declined last week, perhaps I’ll see if one of those heartbroken gentlemen might be desperate enough to saddle themselves to you.”
Juliet covered her mouth to fight her laughter behind the screen. She didn’t enjoy mocking others, but the lady certainly deserved a set down.
“Come, Rebecca,” Lady Theodosia said. “We don’t need to be seen with such company.”
Once Juliet was certain the ladies had left, she emerged from her hiding place and the woman she believed could only be Lady Eliza was still in the room.
“Thank you for that,” Juliet said, offering a small smile to the woman.
Lady Eliza shifted her attention to her and appeared surprised to find her standing there. Her expression shifted to a kind smile. “I can’t stand those two,” Lady Eliza replied. “Don’t worry about them. They just envy the attention you get.”
“I don’t even want it,” Juliet said, deciding to forgo the usual social protocol of feigning indifference and speak honestly with the lady who’d just come to her rescue. “I’m Lady Juliet, by the way.”
“So glad to meet you. I’m Lady Eliza,” the woman replied. “But please, just call me Eliza.”
Juliet nodded in agreement.
“I don’t much care for the attention either,” Eliza shared. “I am uncertain if I ever wish to wed.”
Juliet noted a pain in the woman’s expression and assumed there was a reason for Eliza to make such adeclaration, when she was almost certain it was the lady’s first season out. Although, it was also Juliet’s first season, and she shared a similar position on marriage.
“Would you like to come to tea at my house tomorrow?” Juliet asked, staring down at her feet. “I don’t have many friends, and it would be nice to talk to someone who isn’t as haughty as some of these other debutantes.”
Eliza looped her arm in Juliet’s. “I’d be delighted.”
“Who did you say was joining for tea today?” Juliet’s father, Earl of Avon, asked.
“Lady Eliza,” Juliet replied. “The Earl of Nelson’s daughter.”
