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Only ten days ago, the duke had thrown himself into a pond in Hyde Park, to make a very public proposal to Charlotte, and despite his solemn manners, she knew that a passionate man lurked beneath.

"Julia!"

The Duchess of Penrith was most un-duchess-like, as she greeted Julia with an excited wave. Charlotte slapped the seat beside her, indicating where Julia should sit, and as the carriage took off, she descended into excited chatter.

"Oh, I am so excited about Vauxhall, are you?" Without giving Julia time to answer, Charlotte continued, her eyes dancing. "Grandmama would never let me attend when I was under her care, but now I am a duchess, I might do what I like! I really don't know why I did not marry sooner."

"Ahem," Penrith gave a pained cough, from his seat across from them.

"Not that trips to Vauxhall are the only good thing about marriage," Charlotte corrected herself with a blush, "And not that I would have married anyone but my dear Sh—"

"How is Lord Pariseau?" Penrith interrupted, cutting Charlotte off mid-stream.

"He is well, your Grace," Julia replied, with as even a tone as she could muster.

As the date for the masquerade—and Pariseau's expected proposal—neared, the earl had become rather free with his hands, if left alone momentarily with Julia. Her refusal to entertain even a kiss had led to many arguments, and Julia wondered at the many ways in which a woman might find herself castigated by men.

Kiss too freely, one found oneself a slattern wench.

Offer no kisses at all, one was then dubbed a Mrs. Princum Prancum.

Women, it seemed, could never win.

Julia allowed herself fall into silence, as she listened to Charlotte witter on. Her friend talked of all the places she had visited, now that she was her own chaperone, and all the places she would go.

"Perhaps we might even venture into The Rookery," Charlotte suggested, her eyes bright.

"Perhaps you will not," Penrith answered, his willingness to indulge his wife only stretching so far.

"Not for a lark," Charlotte assured him, "But for charitable purposes. We might call in on Montague's school."

"Montague's what?" Julia interjected, furrowing her brow.

"Oh," Charlotte beamed, "Lord Montague has become the patron of a school run by Reverend Laurence; by all accounts he is very heavily involved in the running of it. And, I'm sure you read, he donated an astronomical sum to the building of a new foundling hospital."

"Twice what Lord Pariseau donated," Julia answered, for the earl had grumbled about that for a week, "But what's this about a school? I did not think he would involve himself so."

"I did not think you knew Lord Montague?" Charlotte frowned, before her husband interrupted.

"Montague is a passionate chap," Penrith said, his eyes holding Julia's, as though trying to convey a message, "Some might accuse him of fleeting from one thing to the next, but when something truly captures his heart, he is lost to it forever."

Gracious. Julia attempted to remain impassive, as Charlotte glanced with confusion between her friend and her husband, unsure if she was being left out.

Thankfully, before the tenacious Charlotte had a chance to interrogate them both, the carriage turned over Vauxhall Bridge, and they found themselves amids t the noise and bustle of London's night.

They joined a queue of carriages, waiting to enter under the gate, whilst about them, pedestrians swarmed, ready for an evening's entertainment.

Julia pushed aside all thoughts of Montague, as she tried to focus on the scene before her. The Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens were a kaleidoscope of colour and sound. As they entered through the gates to the rotunda, they were confronted with the sight of what seemed to be thousands of glittering guests milling about the orchestra stand. To the right, The Grand Walk lay, tempting revellers to traipse along its tree-lined path, toward more secluded avenues.

Supper-boxes, bedecked in silk and lined with paintings, were set around the rotunda, and Penrith led the two ladies to theirs, where Violet and Orsino were waiting.

"My congratulations," Julia cried, as she sighted them, "How fare the newlyweds ?"

Only a few days before, Orsino and Violet had wed by special license, and this was the first time that Julia had met them as man and wife. Poor Violet had entangled herself in an absurd scheme, where she had dressed as her twin brother Sebastian in order to help Orsino with some mission for the Crown. When all had come to light, it had seemed that the pair's tentative courtship might come to an end, but love had prevailed, and they were now man and wife.

"We are well," Violet said, rushing to embrace Julia warmly.

As her friend pulled away, Julia noted that her hair was mussed slightly, and she frowned.