Page 59 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“You never told me.” When Portia took Juliet’s hand, Juliet’s fingers closed hard over her sister’s.
Juliet had never sought Portia’s support before, even after Bolton’s death. She’d always been the strong one, the one in charge. That was her role in this family.
Until now. Tonight, she wasn’t strong at all.
“I never thought to.” She’d always underestimated Portia, she realized. Portia was twenty-four and Juliet still treated her like a child. Only now did she see Portia as an adult equal to herself.
Equal? Portia was a million times her superior. Portia, for all her eccentricity, would never kick over the traces, the way her supposedly wiser older sister had this evening. Juliet swallowed and reminded herself that she wouldn’t cry again.
Portia’s gaze was steady, as she stared into Juliet’s eyes. “Don’t forget those choices, Juliet. I have a feeling they’re going to bully you into accepting Evesham tomorrow.”
“Or Granville.”
Portia’s pale brows contracted in puzzlement. “Didn’t you say you’d jilted him?”
“I did.”
“He looked like murder when I found you all. He’d loathe that you kissed Evesham.”
“I thought he’d despise me, but he proposed again to save my reputation.”
Portia looked thunderstruck. “Good heavens, I thought he’d be too bloated with pride to offer you the time of day, given that the man you dallied with is his worst enemy.”
Juliet released Portia’s hand and turned back to her dressing table. Guilt and trepidation coagulated into a rancid lump in her stomach. What on earth was she going to do? Because Portia was right. Tomorrow, she’d face the full force of parental disapproval. A prelude to public disgrace.
If she didn’t marry someone, she’d no longer be welcome in the beau monde. And that would bring all her plans for her future crashing down to the ground. Her whole life, she’d looked forward to becoming a person of influence in the wider world.
“You always misjudged Granville.” The words emerged in an exhausted monotone. “He’s a good man. A better man than I deserve.”
“Perhaps.” Portia didn’t sound convinced. She stood and came up to stand behind Juliet. In a few seconds, she unfastened the necklace and deposited it on the dressing table. “You didn’t tell me – was it nice kissing Evesham? I’ll wager it was.”
In the mirror, Juliet watched dejection flood back into her eyes. She might have cried enough, but she had a nasty feeling she was going to cry again. And again. “Yes, it was nice.”
It had been more than nice. It had been transcendent, glorious, stupendous. The clouds had parted to reveal golden arcs of light. The angels had sung hosannas. Heaven itself had seemed within reach.
“So why can’t you marry him?”
Juliet’s shoulders sagged. “I told you. Because he’s a philanderer and a wastrel.”
Portia cast her a sharp look. “You brought up two sisters when you weren’t much more than a child yourself. You can handle one obstreperous duke and turn him into the husband you want.”
Right now, Juliet wasn’t sure that she could handle the next five minutes, but she appreciated her sister’s vote of confidence. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Evesham might be worth a shot. You’d still be a duchess if you accept him.”
Her hand closed hard on the locket. “But how can I take the man who ruined Vanessa Gould and didn’t lift a finger to save her? That’s not a passing peccadillo. That’s a sin of the deepest black. That was the act of a man who at his most essential level is irredeemable. If I entrust my future to Evesham knowing that, I’m inviting disaster. However beautifully he might kiss me.”
Portia’s brief cheerfulness faded. “I know you think you’re being pragmatic rejecting Evesham, but I’m not sure that’s true. Marrying him still seems the best solution.”
Juliet stared unseeing at the heavy silver brush set on top of her dressing table. Bleakness invaded her like a cold frost. She didn’t think she’d ever be warm again.
The endless grimness of what awaited her, not just tomorrow but for years to come, weighted her reply. “It might solve my current problems. But marriage is a lifelong commitment, and I will not spend the rest of my days with a man I don’t respect.”
***
Juliet woke late. She’d stayed up most of the night, fretting and scrambling to devise a way to restore her reputation. A way that didn’t involve marrying either of the gentlemen who had proposed over the last few days. It was dawn before sheer exhaustion sent her into a fitful doze.
So when at ten, her father sent a note requesting her presence in the library, she was heavy-eyed and wrung-out. Only after a quick wash and her maid helping her into a dark blue muslin gown of modest cut did she think of anything beyond her own troubles.
