Page 36 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“Yes, Miss,” came the implacable response.
“Does he ordinarily isolate himself, or…” Juliet faltered, not sure if she wanted the question answered, “or does he simply not wish to be in company with me?”
Something in her voice or her face, or perhaps both, seemed to break through Hall’s steadfastness. His broad face twitched and his great, dark eyebrows gathered together.
“He does not desire the company of any who are currently guests within the castle,” the butler said, finally.
Juliet felt crestfallen.
She told herself that she was being silly. This had never been a marriage born out of love. Or even lust. It was a pragmatic solution to a silly situation that should never have arisen. How could she have expected Horatio to think differently on the basis of a frolic in a lake?
“Miss… may I be quite frank?” Hall suddenly asked.
Juliet looked up to regard the butler. “Yes, of course. I would value it greatly, Mr. Hall.”
“I have known His Grace for a very long time. I won’t sayhow—as that’s for his nibs to reveal, if and when, but I know him better than anyone but God and all His Saints. Better than anyone living, anyway. That is all to say, he’s a wool-headed mule at times and can’t be trusted to make his own decisions in the right way.”
Juliet could not help but laugh at the butler’s frank honesty. And at his affectionate description of his master’s stubbornness. It made both master and servant more endearing. More human.
“I think it might be best if you were to ignore what I’ve said and go find him,” Hall finished.
Juliet gasped, and Hall grimaced. “Can’t be saying that as His Grace’s manservant, of course. But sometimes, he doesn’t know what’s best for him. Or what’s under his nose. So, that’s that. If there’s nothing else, Miss?”
“One more thing. Does the Duke… care for me?” Juliet asked, summoning all of her courage.
She braced herself for the negative answer. Or even for this remarkably sincere butler to laugh in her face. Though he had just encouraged her to seek out his master, perhaps it was a trick or a jest? Perhaps, he regarded her as nothing more than a courtesan.
“His Grace don’t tell me about what’s in his heart. Doesn’t admit it to himself, even. But, he can’t hide from me the look in his eyes when he came in from the mere with you the other day. Dripping wet, half-naked, and never more alive. That’s all I’ll say, Miss.”
With that, he left the room, and Juliet was left with heart surging and breath quickening.
“Oh my, Patch. What a revelation. Could it be true? How could it be true? I wish I could just believe it wholeheartedly, but…”
But she was so afraid of the devastation of being wrong, that she didnotwant to believe it.
As she went to retrieve Patch, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. She examined herself critically.
Skin too pale. It had the pallor of illness to her eyes. Birthmark, imitated by her Aunt Margaret, but a blemish by her own judgment. As was the star-shaped birthmark on her inner thigh. At least that was unlikely to be revealed to anyone.
One day, she had thought a husband might discover it. Then she had put such thoughts from her mind. Juliet did not want a husband doomed to be a widower. Except, she was hoping for just that state of affairs with Horatio. Wasn’t she? She could not contemplate the idea of Horatio grieving for her, but neither could she resign herself to never seeing him again.
“No, Patch. I will not live in limbo like this. Wondering what is going to happen and what might be in the future. I must know. For better or worse.”
Before she could think further on it and frighten herself into immobility, she strode from her rooms.
She did not know the geography of the castle, or where Horatio might be found. Nor did she want to ask a servant for directionsto his rooms. That would make it seem as though she were seeking out his bedchamber and set tongues wagging. As though they were not wagging already. The entire household would know what had happened on the night of the ball and that she and Horatio had been swimming together naked. Not really naked, but the stories would have it so, once they had made the rounds of a few ears.
She slipped out of the guest wing of the castle, not wanting to risk an encounter with Aunt Margaret or Frances, too. Once she was away from their rooms, she began trying doors and hallways almost at random. When she did encounter a maid or a footman, she innocently asked for directions to the library and received them. After setting off in the direction indicated, she always then veered off once the servant was out of sight. The castle was large enough that she did not seem to bump into the same servant or the same rooms twice.
It was Aunt Margaret, or rather the need to avoid her, that eventually led to Juliet stumbling upon Horatio’s rooms. Or at least upon his study. She heard, around a corridor, the voices of Aunt Margaret and Frances. Juliet had stopped, standing stock-still in a passageway that intersected a long, windowless passage lit by lamps. They seemed to be in a corridor opposite, but just out of sight.
“The man is infuriating,” Frances was saying.
“Patience, Frances. He is of the same mind as us. He will choose you over Juliet. I have a letter from Doctor Ingram of HarleyStreet. Once he reads it, his mind will be fully made up. Be assured of that, dear.”
Juliet frowned. She did not know aDoctor Ingrambut had a frightening feeling that she knew on what matter a physician would have been consulted by Aunt Margaret.
If she suspected that Juliet suffered the same ailment as her mother, then perhaps she had sought the opinion of a professional on that matter. And now sought to share that opinion with Horatio. And what might that opinion be? That the illness was contagious? That there was a risk that Horatio would contract it if in company with Juliet? Did Horatio already know this? Or at least suspect? Was that why he had been avoiding her for the past three days?
