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me, screaming my name.”
    Julia tried not to blush, but between her fair skin and his naughty words, heat crept slowly up her neck. She sipped her coffee and prayed her husband would not notice.
    “My dear Mrs. Leighton,” Lanceford began. “How charming to see a woman of your experience can still blush.”
    “Oh, I fear it’s nothing but a combination of the hot coffee and the warm air,” she lied. “I’ll recover in a few moments.”
    She risked a glance at Colton and found him studying her carefully, the edges of his lips turned up into the barest hint of a smile. Embarrassed, her eyes slid away and she attempted to distract herself by listening to the other guests.
    Conversation turned to politics and Julia’s attention wandered. In an effort to think about anything other than Nick, she imagined the third bedchamber in her small house in Mayfair. It would make a splendid nursery for her son. How should she decorate it? Perhaps she’d have the walls painted with tales of knights and maidens—
    Julia felt her skirts suddenly shift. A large foot made its way underneath the fabric to rub against her leg. Swallowing a squeak, Julia tried to move away but the foot followed. She immediately suspected Nick, but a quick glance down revealed his legs were not moving. When she looked up, Lanceford caught her eye and gave her a slippery smile.
    Julia narrowed her gaze to let him know exactly what she thought of his advances. Instead of retreating, however, Lanceford daringly moved his foot even higher up her calf. So Julia did the first thing that came to mind: She kicked his stationary leg as hard as she could.
    “Ooph!” Lanceford grunted and jerked his feet back to his side of the table.
    Everyone stopped. “Apologies,” the ambassador muttered. “Old injury acting up.”
    Nick’s face darkened, his attention now riveted on Lanceford. Figured her husband would know what Lanceford had been up to. He’d probably played the same flirtatious game himself many times over, the cad. Though right now, Nick looked so angry, there was no telling what he might do. Julia put a hand on his arm and gave him a small shake of her head to let him know she’d handled Lanceford.
    “Mrs. Leighton,” Veronica began in a thick Venetian accent, “have you made the friendship with Sarah Siddons? I hear many stories of her talent on the stage.”
    Julia coughed to cover a gasp. If she, a duchess, associated with an actress—even the famously talented Mrs. Siddons—a horrific scandal would result. But she reminded herself that Juliet Leighton was not a duchess. She sipped her coffee and decided to answer diplomatically. “While we are not friends, I have seen her perform many times. She is truly talented.”
    “I hear she’s retired,” another woman at the table commented.
    “Yes, that’s true, though she’s retired many times,” Julia answered, and pushed the dratted wayward lock of hair out of her eye once more. “I attended her last farewell performance, and even from the seat in my box I could see not a dry eye in the house.”
    “Have you a box at Covent Garden?” Nick asked.
    Yes, yours, she wanted to reply. “Indeed, Your Grace. How else is one to see and be seen in London?”
    “Mrs. Leighton is quite the actress in her own right. I daresay I’ve hardly seen better,” Simon drawled. Even from down the table, she could see the devilish intent in her friend’s blue eyes.
    “Is this true?” Veronica leaned forward. “You must tell me what parts you play.”
    Julia was momentarily surprised, and before she could make light of Simon’s words, he answered for her. “I particularly enjoyed you in Molière’s School for Wives. ”
    She nearly dropped her china cup. Of course Simon would take the opportunity to poke at her lessons with Pearl. If he were closer, she would have kicked him, too. “Really? How sweet of you, my lord. Although I much preferred my role in his later play, The Learned Ladies. ”
    Simon