Page 57 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
Once they’d turned into the corridor leading to her room, Portia put her arm around Juliet. “What in heaven’s name happened? I’ve never seen Papa so furious. Granville was seething, too. Not to mention Evesham looks like his best friend just died. And he’s got a bruise on his chin. Did you hit him?”
Juliet fixed her gaze on the door to her bedroom like it was the gate to the promised land. Right now, she wanted to lock herself inside and never come out again. “Can I tell you tomorrow?”
“Not even a hint?” Portia was nothing if not persistent. It was one of the qualities that made her an effective advocate for her animals.
Juliet set her jaw and pushed the door open. Without invitation, Portia followed her inside.
Juliet slumped in front of her dressing table to remove the gold locket and earbobs that she’d worn for the play. The gala felt like a million years ago.
That radiant girl on a balcony was someone else entirely.
Her image in the mirror turned misty, and her shaking hands couldn’t manage the intricate catch on the necklace. She bit back a curse and lowered her hands to her lap.
“Do you need help with your gown?” Portia asked, her tone solicitous.
Juliet blinked away the moisture stinging her eyes and shook her head. “No. Once I unfasten the sash, it’s loose enough to pull over my head.”
“You were wonderful as Juliet. I’ve never seen you like that before. It was like someone lit a candle inside you.”
Evesham had lit a candle inside her. For the love of God, he’d lit an inferno inside her. But consuming fires burned out too fast. Now all that was left was ashes.
“Thank you. You were a lovely Ophelia, too.” She met tired eyes in the mirror. She looked haggard and strained. Not enough sleep, even before her life turned into a spectacle to rival Astley’s circus.
Portia ventured up behind her, her worry reflected in the glass. “What changed everything from triumph to tragedy?”
Portia’s question made it impossible for Juliet to maintain even a shred of her famous control. This was why she’d wanted to be alone, so that when she crumbled, there wouldn’t be any witnesses. She wouldn’t have to explain or excuse.
Although what excuse could she make?
To Juliet’s mortification, tears flooded her eyes. Blinking hard, she fumbled to open a drawer to locate a handkerchief.
Portia shoved one into her shaking hand. “Here.”
Juliet held the practical cotton square to her face and gave in to a storm of tears.
“Jules. Sis. Don’t take on so.” Portia dropped to her knees beside Juliet and put her arms around her. “It can’t be that bad.”
To her eternal regret, Portia was wrong. It was that bad. It was worse. The situation was beyond salvage. Everywhere she turned, she only saw complete devastation.
“I’ve made such an awful mess of everything,” she forced out, burying her face in Portia’s shoulder.
“I’m sure you haven’t.” Portia’s arms tightened. “You always do the right thing.”
“Not anymore.” Juliet hiccupped. “Papa caught me kissing Evesham.”
Papa. Granville. And every nasty gossip in London. She cringed at being the object of general ridicule. Nobody would say that she’d make a perfect duchess now.
“Evesham?” Portia pulled far enough away to see her face. “Aren’t you engaged to Granville?”
Juliet gulped for air and wiped her eyes. Through her tears, she saw Portia’s astonishment. “I told him this morning that I couldn’t marry him,” she said unevenly.
She waited for Portia to exult. Her sister had never liked Granville. But she’d underestimated her. Portia’s concern was all for her distraught sister. “Oh, Jules, I’m so very sorry. That must have been difficult.”
She hadn’t wanted Portia to stay, but right now, she was grateful to realize that her younger sister was on her side, right or wrong. In this case, definitely wrong. “It was hideous. But nowhere near as hideous as that scene tonight.”
Juliet watched Portia think through the implications of what she heard. “So are you going to marry Evesham instead?”
With a dismissive grunt, Juliet dropped the sodden handkerchief on the dressing table. The crippling shock of the world discovering that she was no better than she should be was wearing off. However humiliation and anguish remained as blistering as ever. She still felt as if she’d swallowed a cauldron full of snakes. “Of course not.”
