Page 78 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

Oh, how she despised such questions, for they were impossible to answer, yet they itched at her brain until other conversations became meaningless, and even discussions of art felt trite. When an artist she admired was explaining how to capture the ocean at sunset, Juno wanted to throw her wine in his face and say, “Forget the stupid sunset!” She wanted to know how to capture the way Leo made her feel. How might she paint her regret for her errors, or her confusion over her desires, or her stark new loneliness in the company of her friends?

How irritating they had become, how unbearable their chatter, how insufferable their witticisms about The Disappearing Duke of Dammerton.

Where was he, anyway? Why had he not returned to London? Worry gnawed at her, but she could ask no one. She did not have that right.

At salons and soirees, she caught herself imagining him sauntering through the door, draping himself over a chair, singing along with everyone else. At the theater, she imagined him at her side, holding her hand, whispering wry commentaries, stealing a kiss.

Every facet of her life seemed scarred with a Leo-shaped hole, as if an empty space moved alongside her. As if there were another world where they had married in Vienna all those years ago.

As if the ghost of that other Leo, her husband, was always by her side.

* * *

What she neededto do was spend time with her family.

Hadrian was out of town, and Phoebe was visiting Oxford, but her aunt and uncle and Livia were still in London for the final weeks of the Season.

As luck would have it, Hester planned to redecorate the family home in Longhope Abbey and was eager for Juno’s advice.

But as Juno paged through a thick wallpaper catalogue, she hardly saw the colorful designs. Did Hester know if Leo had returned to London? Did Juno dare ask?

“You’ve not heard a word I said,” Hester said, abandoning her newspaper to stand at Juno’s side. “Are the wallpapers so engrossing?” She peered over her shoulder. “Parrots and pineapples? You would not inflict such horrors upon me.”

Juno said, “I beg your pardon?” and realized she was staring at a sample of wallpaper that featured green parrots and yellow pineapples arranged in circles. The pineapples seemed cheerful enough, but the parrots looked very solemn.

“Forgive me. I was thinking.” She paused. “I don’t like it.”

“That wallpaper?”

“Thinking. I don’t like thinking.” She scowled at the gloomy parrots. “The wallpaper is hideous too.”

She turned the page and absently traced a pale blue fleur-de-lis design. “I’m sorry.”

Hester shifted to see her face. “For what, my dear?”

“I wasted years as a child, drawing pictures for my parents. I was so sure if my drawing was good enough, they would come back for me. I wasted time wanting them back, when I could have been enjoying my life with all of you.”

“That is not how I remember it at all.” Hester looked baffled. “You were very much part of our family. Yes, you spent hours every day drawing, but your cousins passed hours every day with their Greek and Latin and other books. We adored having you in our family. You livened us up no end. I thought you were happy.”

“I was. I am. But I missed them.”

“You could be happy with us and miss your parents too. It’s possible to love more than one thing in your life.”

Something in those words tugged at her weary brain. Oh, enough of these thoughts fogging up her mind! She whirled away and tumbled onto the settee. “When I was fourteen, I found a letter my father wrote to my uncle. He was asking for money. He did not even mention me.”

“Oh, my darling.” Hester sat beside her and took her hand.

“He wrote that he would transform art forever. I know artists like that, the ones who do nothing but talk.” She studied their joined hands. “Did my uncle Gordon give them money?”

Hester adjusted her spectacles. “Every time. They said if we did not give them money, they would take you away.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We did not want them to take you away from us and they knew it, so they made us pay to keep you.” She squeezed her fingers. “The state you were in when you arrived: ill-kempt, poorly behaved, barely able to read. We feared they would neglect you again, or simply leave you with someone else, and we loved having you. You do not blame us, I hope?”

“I am glad you kept me.” Juno adored them, she always had, yet she had never felt she truly belonged. Not until Leo. “But … I am so very different to the rest of you, with your books and yourthinking. I’m not nearly so clever as all of you.”

“One need not be bookish to be clever, and you are very clever in your own way. We are all awed by your skills.”

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