I longed for a place to hide away. Somewhere I could be alone without fear of being discovered. With a hand pressed over my breastbone, I raced to the stables. The grooms were outside, riding some of the horses in the paddock, and I darted by them and ducked inside the large structure while they were busy.
I turned in and rushed down the aisle, determined to find an empty stall where I could cry in peace. The second to last one on the left had clearly not been occupied for some time, so I undid the latch on the door and entered. I leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor.
But instead of the assaulting emotion I’d been expecting, numbness washed over me. My heart felt as hard as a rock, which was precisely what I needed, because the duchess—even with her highhanded ways and haughty manner—was right. Somewhere along the way I’d made the mistake of letting my heart wander where it had no business being. It was only now that I finally had the courage to admit it to myself.
I had fallen in love with Halstead.
I stared down at the white gauze encasing my palm, wondering if perhaps it had been that night in the stairwell. The moment Halstead had slid his hand into mine and let me cry against his chest as I revealed the broken parts of me. A night of tenderness and anguish, where walls had come down and secrets and scars had been bared.
The duchess, in a few words, had shined a light on that moment. A moment that could happen in a servants’ stairway but not in the light of day.
My heart, hard as it was, cracked, and the tightness in my chest eased, letting loose a tidal wave of emotion. Try as I might to hold it back, the pain split free. I buried my face in my knees, heaving out sobs that echoed through the lofty stable ceilings.
Cold seeped through my bones, and I began to shiver uncontrollably, yet I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and I dared not return to the castle until I had a better hold of myself.
“Juliet?”
My pulse stuttered, and I glanced up to find Halstead leaning over the stall door. I turned my head away and wiped furiously at my tears, ashamed he should have heard such a display. “Heavens, you scared me,” I said. The packed earth must have muted the sound of his walking stick.
“I saw you running toward the stables as if your very life depended on it. What’s wrong? Is it your hand?” His words were sharp with concern.
“No.” I shook my head and got to my feet, dusting off loose bits of straw. “It’s nothing.” I undid the latch on the stall and stepped out, brushing by without meeting his gaze. The duchess had insisted I keep my distance, and I intended to start now.
“What has upset you, then?” He stepped in front of me and looked me over—no doubt taking in my tear-stained cheeks, my red-rimmed eyes. “Is it your brother, Harry?”
At last something I could latch on to, even if that wasn’t the precise reason I had been crying. “Yes, though Robert is certain I am overreacting. He got into a scuffle, and we received a warning from the headmaster. If Aunt Agnes finds out . . .” The ache in my chest grew.
In the next stall a beautiful roan stallion pranced impatiently, anxious for attention. I put my left hand out and let him nuzzle my palm.
“I am sorry, Juliet.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t your fault. And it’s not for much longer. When I turn twenty-one, Harry’s guardianship comes to me.” That day couldn’t come soon enough.
“Still. I wish there were something I could do.” Halstead nodded his head toward the horse. “He likes you.”
“He’s beautiful.”
“His name is Atlantic. He has the finest pedigree in the entire county. I think my grandmother prefers his company to that of any of her blood relatives.”
At the mention of his grandmother my mouth pulled into a frown.
A hint of intrigue entered Halstead’s expression. “Based on the face you just made, I would almost think you had reason to dislike my grandmother.” He took a step toward me.
But I took several steps back and put a hand on the next stall, keeping a safe distance between us. “We’ve crossed swords before, she and I. I am not anxious to do so again.”
“And when was this?” He lifted a hand and stroked his chin, watching me.
Now that Lady Margaret was here, telling him the truth of the matter couldn’t hurt. “Your grandmother approached me last Sunday and asked me to . . . spend time with you.” I laid a hand at my throat. “She thought I might be successful in urging you to participate more regularly among company.”
Halstead’s eyes hardened, and his neck flushed with anger. “And let me guess, once Lady Margaret arrived, you were to disappear.” He cursed softly, but I’d been at the docks often enough with my father as a young child that I was unaffected.
I nodded as a muscle ticked in his cheek.
He gave a brief shake of his head and turned away. “Well then, what are you doing? Your work here is done.”
A retort leapt to my tongue, but I bit down so hard I drew blood. Two parts battled for supremacy. An easy solution had presented itself: I could leave and let him believe the worst. But my heart rebelled. How could I allow him to think I would use him in such a way? Before I could decide, the words flew free. “I told her no, Halstead.”
He pivoted, almost losing his balance before he put out his walking stick to ground himself. “You did?” The tiniest bit of hope lifted one corner of his mouth, but then, just as quickly, it pulled back down. “Was this the night she requested we sit next to one another at dinner?” I could see
