Page 79 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

The day Juno found that letter from her father she had run into the woods, where she sat in her favorite glade and hugged her knees and cried. Nothing could be relied upon to stay, she had thought. She had vowed, with all the fervor of her fourteen-year-old heart, never to waste her energy on anyone who made her feel unwanted. In time, that included Leo.

Hester put a knuckle under her chin. “Juno, is something amiss? This is not like you at all.”

“It is too terrible. I cannot stopthinking.” She rubbed her aching temples. “What if I had made different choices in the past? What if I had not left England to study art? What if—” She sighed. “Who would I be? If I had made different choices, I would have a whole different life, and I would be different too, and what if that life had been better? But what if it had been worse?” Her head thunked back against the settee. “I do not wish to alarm you, but I have become very philosophical and I fear it is endangering my health.”

“I’m sure you’ll pull through. You are very robust. Besides, you have always been philosophical.” Hester nudged her shoulder. “But it is a waste of good time to wish to change the past. We can never go back to the beginning and start again. All we can ever do is look at where we are and start there. We make new choices, knowing that we are someone different now, and one day we’ll be someone different again.”

“You are very wise.”

“Has something happened?”

“Nothing. A peculiar mood, I suspect.” She bolted to her feet and returned to the book of wallpaper samples. “You were saying something and I wasn’t listening.”

Hester frowned, adjusting her spectacles, then her face brightened. “Oh, yes. I asked if you’d seen the notice in the paper: Dammerton is back in London and is engaged. I’ve met Miss Macey once or twice. She’s sharp, I think. Have you met her, Juno?”

A yellow floral design rippled before Juno’s eyes. “No,” she said.

“I must write him a note. We might host a dinner and invite them both. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I’ll be out of town that night,” Juno said hastily and escaped before her aunt could point out she’d not yet chosen a date.

* * *

What she neededto do was get out into the world.

Livia, who loved running around the countryside as much as she loved sitting motionless with books, indulged her with an array of outings, but London had too many people, and too many carriages, and sour, acrid air. Wherever Juno walked, the words pounded in her mind like a drumbeat.

Leo was engaged. Officially, properly, formally, publicly engaged.

Her uncharacteristic irritability earned more than one remark from her cousin.

“But I thought you liked London,” Livia said, as Juno cursed the horrors of Hyde Park at the promenade hour.

“I love London,” she replied, and scowled at the crowd around them, all gorging on gossip as they milled about in their finest summer clothes. “But sometimes I miss the freedom of life on the Continent. There are so many wretched rules here, and people watching and judging all the time.”

“If you do return to the Continent, you must take me with you. I am so ghastly tired of English society.”

“Which is surprising, considering how assiduously you avoid it.” Juno looped her arm around her cousin’s and guided them away from the Serpentine, in search of somewhere she could breathe. “Why do you hate society so? If anyone is unkind to you, you must tell me, and I shall poke them in the eye with my paintbrush.”

Livia sighed. “I can never think of anything normal to say, so I talk about the conquest of Byzantium or Aristotelian principles and this awkward little silence falls until they discover somewhere better to be. I told a group at a ball that I had translated a poem forTheLady’s Magazineand they just stared at me and one said sadly, ‘But why?’”

Juno elbowed her. “You are not the only bluestocking in London, you know. Find the others.”

“Mama introduced me to some, daughters of old friends of hers. Now there was someone who was unkind and well deserves a poke in the eye. She said she’d translated that same poem two years ago and my version was a waste of space.”

“She’s jealous because your translation is superior.”

“How would you know? You’ve not read the poem or the translations.”

“I just know,” Juno said and bumped her shoulder against her cousin’s and made her smile.

Finally, they escaped the crowds. Livia’s coltish stride ate up the grass easily, much faster than Juno liked. She called a halt and leaned back against a tree with a sigh.

“You inspired me, you know,” Livia said. “To submit my translation toTheLady’s Magazine. You are so brave and determined, and I thought, there is Juno with her own studio, and plenty of ladies make money from their pen. Why can I not do that too? I should very much like to write a travel memoir, but first I shall need to travel.”

“Brava.” Juno reached out and lazily picked a leaf. “But take care not to follow me too closely, or you’ll trip over the mountain of mistakes I’ve left in my wake. I don’t regret choosing my own path, rather than a safe, genteel marriage, but it is not always an easy choice.”

“Why did you choose it? You never mentioned a career to anyone, until suddenly you were insisting you must study art in Europe. I always wondered if it had something to do with Leo. Dammerton, I should call him now.”

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