Page 39 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
She tugged at the pins holding her elaborate hairstyle, until thick blond waves cascaded around her shoulders. She hoped that letting her hair down might ease the pounding pressure at her temples.
It didn’t.
“That’s me. Tactful all over.” Portia studied Juliet with a puzzled frown. “Do you want me to talk you out of your engagement?”
Heat prickled Juliet’s cheeks. To hide her flush, she stepped behind the screen to undress. “Of course not. I told you at the start of the season that I admired Granville and that if he proposed, I intended to accept him.”
It was a relief to escape that perceptive gaze. Portia knew her too well.
“Yes, you did,” Portia said thoughtfully. “But you’re not acting as if it’s all a dream come true.”
“I’m not a demonstrative person. You know that.”
“Even a reserved individual like you is allowed a little sparkle when she announces her engagement. You’re looking morose.”
“Nonsense.” Except it wasn’t nonsense.
“Yet you seemed willing to sacrifice your chances to be a duchess in favor of Papa’s gala.”
“I could hardly leave Papa in the lurch. So many people are coming down from London to see Evesham.”
“It still speaks to priorities. Few women would risk a wedding to a duke to play at amateur theatricals.”
Juliet poured warm water into the ewer and started to sponge her skin. “Granville will take charge of me in a few weeks. Until then, I can make my own decisions.”
“Are you afraid he means to bully you?”
Juliet ran the damp cloth down her arms, as she considered Portia’s question. “He seems to respect me. I don’t think he’ll be a tyrant. But who can tell?”
Portia moved closer to the screen. “Jules, is that why you’re hesitant? You fear losing all your freedom?”
This time she didn’t even try to conceal the heaviness of her sigh. “I must marry. It’s the way of the world.”
“You could stay with Papa. You’ve been mistress here most of your life. You could wait until you meet a man you like.”
She had met a man she liked, but he wasn’t marriage material, unfortunately. “I’m twenty-six. I’ve seen most of the eligible gentlemen. And I do like Granville. He’s everything I admire.”
All true, although she still couldn’t work out why after planning this match all year, now it eventuated, she found herself hesitating. She had no patience with vacillation. Yet no doubt, she was vacillating. She wanted to kick herself.
“You won’t much like bowing your head in obedience.”
“The duke and I will work out how to go on. I don’t fancy fading into a lonely spinster, and I’d like children. It’s something to become the Duchess of Granville.”
“It is, if that’s what you want from life.” Portia sounded unconvinced. Juliet couldn’t blame her.
A silence fell, punctuated by the soft splash of water as Juliet washed.
“You haven’t mentioned…love,” Portia said with uncharacteristic diffidence.
Juliet finished drying herself and hung the towel on the rail. “I like the duke. I respect him. We have a great deal in common. I think we can be friends.”
“That’s not love.”
No, it wasn’t. “He believes love will grow.”
“So he doesn’t love you either?”
“We see ourselves creating a successful partnership.”
