"Always," Julia smiled, then Montague disappeared into the shadows, and Julia was left to await the return of her friends.
"Did you see the balloon ascension?" Charlotte called a few moments later, as she and Penrith returned, "I have never seen anything so spectacular, have you?"
"No," Julia replied, honestly. "It was a once in a life-time event."
"And where have Orsino and Violet gotten to?" Charlotte queried, as she picked up a goblet to take a sip of her wine, "We shall have to give them a lecture when they return on how to be proper chaperones, should we not, Shuggy?"
Penrith blushed and lifted the goblet from his wife's hand.
"That's quite enough of that," he muttered, placing the goblet back down upon the table, "You will be in no position to lecture anyone, if you end up in your cups."
"Wine is another one of the benefits of marriage," Charlotte called dreamily to Julia, as she snuggled into her husband's side.
"I'm certain that Julia will find out soon enough just how advantageous marriage can be," Penrith informed his sleepy wife, before offering Julia a wink.
An actual wink.
Love did upend even the most practical people, Julia thought with a smile.
Chapter Ten
It was to be a night of miracles, Robert thought, as he ascended the steps to Cavendish House. Earlier that evening, Staffordshire had benignly informed his son that he might marry who he liked, as long as she produced an heir.
"Even Lady Julia?" Rob had asked, surprised that his father had taken his announcement so well.
"Especially Lady Julia," Staffordshire had shrugged, "I have seen her from afar, and I know a good pair of childbearing hips when I see them."
"She is not a broodmare, Father ," Robert had been at pains to point out.
"Do you wish me to care more, or less about your choice of bride?" Staffordshire had quirked his grey brows, "Because if I were to care about more than you marrying a girl who will finally supply me with a grandson, then I might find that I do take umbrage with you marrying a Cavendish."
"Point taken."
"I shall supply you both with land to build on," Staffordshire had said, before Robert took his leave, "I have the perfect site in mind that will offer a poetic end to this silly feud."
With a gleam in his eye, Staffordshire had outlined just what field he thought would best suit Rob's new family, and when he finished, Robert had to admit he was right in it being a poetic end.
"Now go," the duke waved a cross hand, "And don't return until you have secured the line."
"As you wish," Rob had grinned, and he had raced to his chambers to bathe and dress before the masquerade.
An invitation to the event had not been sent to Lord Montague, but thankfully Lord Michaels had been chosen as worthy to attend.
"I don't know what you're about, Montague," his friend had said, as he and Benjamin—both dressed as court jesters—had collected him.
"I'm going to propose marriage to the woman I love," Montague had answered, much to Michaels ' disgust.
"Well, if I had known that, I really wouldn't have obliged you," he had groused, "Though Lord Cavendish does put on a good spread. At his last ball, he served puff-pastry rolls stuffed with pigeon and fennel leaf; I wonder shall he offer it again?"
"Yes, the food's the important bit," Benjamin had said, grinning over at Montague, "Not the fact that your friend has fallen in love."
"Another step on your slow descent into respectability," Lord Michaels gave a roll of his eyes, "Still, at least we have one more night of fun, before you get yourself leg-shackled."
"Nothing debauched," Robert had counselled sternly, "This is a mission of love, not an excuse for misbehaviour."
"You have my word as a gentleman," Lord Michaels had raised his hand.
"Sadly, I don't find that overly assuring."
