Apart from apprehension, which she fought to keep under control, Juliana's main complaint was boredom. She was accustomed to an active existence, and by the third day being penned in her chamber was becoming insupportable. She had asked no questions, made no demands for her freedom, stubborn pride insisting that she not give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her dismay. She would show them that she could wait them out, and when they saw she was adamant, then they would release her.

But on the early afternoon of the fourth day things changed. The little maid appeared in Juliana's chamber with her arms full of silk and lace.

"Y'are to dine downstairs, miss," she said, beaming over the gauzy, colorful armful. "And then be presented in the drawing room." She opened her arms, and her burdens toppled to the bed. "See what a beautiful gown Mistress Dennison 'as 'ad fashioned for ye." She shook out the folds of jade-green silk and held it up for Juliana's inspection.

"Take it away, Bella," Juliana instructed. Her heart was jumping in her breast, but she thought her voice sounded reassuringly curt and firm.

"Eh, miss, I can't do that." Bella stopped admiring the gown in her hands and stared at Juliana. "Mistress Dennison 'ad it made up specially for ye. It wasn't ready till this morning, so ye've been kept up 'ere. But now y'are all set." She turned enthusiastically to the pile of material on the bed. "See… fresh linen, two petticoats, silk stockings, and look at these pretty slippers. Real silver buckles, I'll lay odds, miss! Mistress Dennison 'as only the best fer 'er girls." She held out a pair of dainty apple-green silk shoes with high heels.

Juliana took them in a kind of trance, measuring the heel with her finger. Her feet were unruly enough when they were flat on the ground; what they would get up to in these shoes didn't bear thinking of.

She dropped them onto the floor. 'Would you inform Mistress Dennison that I have no intention of wearing these clothes or of being presented… or, indeed, of anything at all."

Bella looked aghast. "But, miss-"

"But nothing," Juliana said brusquely. "Now, deliver my message… and take these harlot's garments away with you." She gestured disdainfully to the bed.

"Oh, no, miss, I dursn't." Bella dropped a curtsy and scuttled from the room.

Juliana sat down on the window seat, ignored her pounding heart, folded her hands in her lap. and awaited developments.

They came with the arrival of both Dennisons within ten minutes. Elizabeth, resplendent in a gown of tangerine silk over a sky-blue petticoat, sailed into the room, followed by a tall gentleman clad in a suit of canary-yellow taffeta, his hair powdered and curled.

Juliana, reasoning that she had nothing to lose by showing courtesy, rose and curtsied, but her eyes were sharply assessing as they rested on her visitors. She had never met Richard Dennison but guessed his identity from Bella's descriptions.

"Now, what nonsense is this, child?" Elizabeth came straight to the point, sounding annoyed.

"I might ask the same of you, madam," Juliana said evenly. Her mind raced. Could they force her into prostitution? Could they have her raped and ruined, so she'd have nothing further to lose? Her skin was clammy, but her voice remained steady, and she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the Dennisons.

"There's no need for discourtesy, my dear." Richard Dennison's voice was deep and mild, but the tone was belied by his keenly penetrating eyes. He stepped up to the bed. "Do you find fault with the gown… or the linen?"

"They are the garments of a harlot, sir. I am not a harlot."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, girl!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "This gown is the dernier cri at court. Everything here is of the best quality and design."

"I thank you for your kindness, ma'am, but I will not take your charity."

"This is not my gift, child, but-" She stopped abruptly as her husband coughed behind his hand, his eyes darting a warning.

Juliana bit her lip. If the clothes were not the gift of the Dennisons, then there was only one explanation. "I beg you will inform His Grace, the Duke of Redmayne, that I have no need of his charity either."

"Why do you keep prating of charity, child?" demanded Richard. "You are being asked to perform a service in exchange for our hospitality and His Grace's generosity."

"A service I will not perform," she stated, astonished at how firm she sounded when her knees were quaking like a blancmange and her palms were slippery with sweat. "I am not a whore."

"As I understand it. His Grace is offering to make you a viscountess… a far cry from a whore," Mr. Dennison observed aridly.

"There is a buyer and a seller, sir. I see no difference."

"Obstinate ingrate." declared Mistress Dennison. "His Grace insisted you should have time to reconsider his offer without persuasion, but-"

"Madam!" Juliana interrupted passionately. "I ask only to be allowed to leave this house unmolested. If you will return my original garments, I will go as I came and be no trouble to anyone. Why would you keep me here against my will?"

"Because it is our considered opinion, my girl, that you don't know what's good for you," Richard said. "How long do you think you'll last on the streets? You have no idea how to go on in London. You have no money, no friends, no protection of any sort. In this house you have been offered all that and more. In exchange we ask only that you put on those clothes and come downstairs to dinner."

Juliana felt the ground slipping beneath her feet as some of her assurance left her. Everything they said was true. She'd seen enough from her window to know that a sheltered life among county aristocracy had ill equipped her for the life of an indigent girl in London.

"Bella said I was to be presented in the drawing room," she said. "I believe I know what that means."

"I believe you do not," Richard said crisply. "No demands will be made of you except for your company. You will not be required to entertain, except perhaps to play a little music and converse as in any civilized drawing room."

"And the Duke of Redmayne…?" she asked, hesitantly now.

Mr. Dennison shrugged easily. "My dear, the duke's business is not ours. It lies with you, and he will deal directly with you. Mistress Dennison and I ask only that you dine with the other members of this household and take tea in the drawing room."

"And if I refuse?"

A look of exasperation crossed Mr. Dennison's face, but he held up a hand as his wife seemed about to remonstrate. "I think you know better than to do so," he said. "You are in need of a safe haven, and you have one here. But it seems reasonable to ask that you obey the rules of the house."

Juliana turned away, defeated. The threat was clear enough. It wouldn't take the magistrates long to discover her true identity once they were told her story. The landlord of the Bell in Wood Street would remember that the Winchester coach had arrived at the same time as the York stage. Piecing together the rest would be easy for them.

"Come, my dear." Mistress Dennison's voice was soft and cajoling. She laid a gentle hand on Juliana's arm. "I'll ring for Bella and she'll help you to dress. The gown will set off your eyes and hair to perfection, I promise you."

"That is hardly an incentive in these circumstances, ma'am," Juliana said dryly, but she turned back to the room. "If you are determined to have my maidenhead, then it seems there's little I can do to prevent it."

"Don't be so untrusting." Elizabeth scolded, patting her arm. "My husband and I will force nothing upon you. Your business lies with the Duke of Redmayne, and you may negotiate with him however you please."

Juliana's eyes narrowed. "You would have me believe that you have no interest, financial or otherwise, in the duke's plans for me? Forgive me, ma'am, if I doubt that. A procuress expects to be paid, I'm sure."