Page 6 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“Our dresses have arrived and Mama wishes us to try them on while the seamstress is here so that any adjustments may be made,” Frances finished.
Juliet groaned inwardly.
She could not think of a worse waste of a beautiful day than to be trying on dresses and standing on a stool while a seamstress made adjustments. Besides, there was the rabbit she had saved from a poacher’s trap and had been nursing back to health. She wanted very much to check on the poor thing’s progress. For a moment, she thought about telling her cousins that she would be along momentarily. But she did not want to excite their curiosity too much. The old cottage she had discovered at the heart of Burdop Wood served her well as a makeshift hospital for the waifs and strays she came across. The last thing she wished was for her hideaway to be discovered. So, she smiled and followed her cousins back along the path toward the boundary wall of the Wetherby estate.
Frances complained the entire way about having to tramp through wild woods to find Juliet. Even had Juliet been in her own rooms, Frances would still have found reason to be offended. She did not know why her cousin found her so objectionable, but it was clear that she did. Edith on the other hand was more likable, if often distant, her head firmly in her books.
A wooden gate in the tall, stone wall, let the three women into the grounds of Wetherby. Immediately, the trees ceased and the ferns, garlic, and wild grass vanished. They followed a white gravel path between rose beds, rhododendrons, and hydrangeas. Water burbled from a fountain somewhere beyond a square-cut hedge. Turning a corner, they climbed a set of stone steps kept meticulously free of moss and lichen. At the top was a glowing expanse of lawn with Wetherby House beyond.
It was of a warm, orange brick, built in the Jacobean style, and changed little in the intervening years. Windows were tall and, on the ground floor, framed by carefully controlled clematis and climbing roses. All were in full bloom, pinks and reds contrasting with the brickwork. It was pretty but in a way that Juliet found very artificial and staid. It lacked the vitality and abundance of nature.
She found her steps slowing as they approached the entrance to Wetherby. The familiar sense of anxious dread was on Juliet. She tried to forget about the annual Ravenscourt Ball each year. But when it came around, it could not be ignored. Aunt Margaret treated it with the same reverence as a coronation.
“I think I will take the air for just a moment,” Juliet murmured, suddenly unable to face going back into the house and becoming absorbed by the preparations.
“Well, do not tarry too long,” Frances snapped.
She was two years Juliet’s senior and wasted no opportunity to lord it over her. With that, she swept into the house, servantsmaking way before her, which was fortunate as she had her chin raised so high she couldn’t possibly have seen where she was going. Edith stood beside Juliet who turned to look out over the gardens as though taking in the sight.
“You do not care for the Ravenscourt Ball, do you?” Edith said, quietly.
“I do not,” Juliet replied, “or any ball for that matter.”
“Neither do I. I would much rather be lost in a good book than dancing with some empty-headed young man. I think Frances is of the same mind as the two of us, though for differing reasons.”
Juliet furrowed her brows at that. “Truly? I had assumed Cousin Frances lived for days like this.”
Edith giggled. “She does when it is a ball to which you have not been invited. Do you not realize that my sister is deeply jealous of you? Of your having found a handsome match and of your looks.”
That last part confused Juliet. She did not see herself as pretty. She was too tall and her hair too bright a shade of red. She disliked the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks and thought her eyes too far apart. But it did not concern her too much because the possibility of marriage was so remote. As if to remind her of how remote that prospect was, she felt a sudden sensation of breathlessness. Her head felt light, and she knew that before long the world would be spinning around her. Itwould result in a faint from which she would not awaken for hours. And after each episode, she felt gradually weaker.
“Are you quite well, Cousin?” Edith asked, frowning.
“Quite,” Juliet replied languidly. “The sun is very bright. I fear I have overdone it.”
That explanation would have satisfied anyone but Edith. Her frown deepened and she pressed her lips together in the way she did when in deep thought.
“I have noticed you seem to take dizzy spells quite often,” she began.
“It is just the sun, I assure you,” Juliet put in hurriedly.
All knew of the illness which had taken her mother’s life. Juliet remembered well the stigma attached to it. The fear of contagion. She did not want people to look at her in the same way. Uncle Gilbert would have her packed off to a remote sanatorium at the merest hint that she had inherited her mother’s condition.
“Then perhaps we should get indoors,” Edith said, finally.
Still, she offered her arm as they walked. Juliet accepted it, her knees feeling weak and shaky.
“I shall be right as rain after a sit-down and a cup of tea,” she grimaced.
“Will Lord Hemsworth be attending tomorrow evening?” Edith asked as they walked through Wetherby’s halls to the drawing room.
“No, I am afraid he is otherwise engaged in London this week,” Juliet replied.
“Such a shame. It is an annual fixture after all. Like Christmas... Such a shame that he could not have planned his schedule to allow for it,” Edith commented distractedly.
Juliet gave her a quick look, wondering if she were probing at another of Juliet’s secrets. There was no way that she could know the truth, of course. Both Juliet and Nigel Crickhallow, Viscount Hemsworth, had been very careful in the outward appearance of their courtship. A facade of romance to disguise Juliet’s illness and Nigel’s own secret. One known only to Juliet and the person who truly held his heart in their keeping.
Edith was very intelligent and quite capable of deducing the truth if she had enough information to go on. On the other hand, she had a secret of her own which only Juliet knew. That should be enough to ensure that Juliet’s secrets remained safe.
