“But it was not in the way you think,” I continued. “I felt pity that a man with all of your power, wealth, and education should throw it all away because of some outward mar on your person. I hardly know you, but it’s obvious you’ve become a brooding recluse, your only entertainment finding ways to mock and scorn those who do not share your fate.” I shook my head, unable to stop. “I’ll not make the mistake of wasting such feeling on you again, for you do not deserve it. Your mother was right. You are a petulant child—one who deserves a good switching.”
I did not even look at him as I snatched up my gloves, swept by the chair where he sat, and walked out the door.
Chapter Four
I sat on the edge of my bed, hands shaking, waiting for the summons that was sure to come. A short missive. A dismissal. An invitation to pack my bags and take my leave, my aunt and cousins along with me. Aunt Agnes would be furious.
I bit my tongue, penance for the wicked words I’d allowed to escape just minutes before. Though I could not regret them, I regretted that my temper had gotten the best of me. I shook my head. After years under Aunt Agnes’s smothering control, it was hard for me to believe myself capable of such an outburst. What was it about that man that loosened my tongue and made my emotions swirl?
The room held no noticeable chill, but I hugged myself, feeling cold. A fire burned in the hearth, its flames licking the remnants of the dying logs. I traced one of the tufted gold diamonds that adorned my coverlet in an attempt to distract myself, but my paltry efforts proved unsuccessful. My conversation—or rather, quarrel—with the duke played over and over in my mind. I felt trapped by it, for no matter which way I examined it, it seemed there was nothing I might have said to keep the upper hand. The man had a way of maintaining the utmost composure, a cool control that unsettled me.
An eternity ticked by. The bells chimed from the northwest tower, marking the hour and urging everyone to finish dressing for dinner. When I could bear it no longer, I took to pacing. My letter to Harry would have to wait another day, for I was in no state to write, let alone give him any sort of encouragement.
I wrung my hands together anxiously. Was there any way I might undo the damage I had done? A few minutes later a knock sounded at the door, and Betsy entered, heading straight for the large wardrobe that graced the corner of the room.
“Your aunt took longer than expected; we must hurry.” Her tone was more subdued than usual. “What shall you wear tonight, miss?” she asked, sparing me a quick glance. Her cheeks were stained with tears. It was enough to jolt me from my worry.
“Betsy—”
“How about the pale-gray silk? And I thought to try your hair in a new fashion, something Lady Ellen’s maid showed me.” She spoke quickly, her words tumbling over one another.
“Betsy, wait. What is the matter?”
She turned away and shook her head.
I closed the distance between us, then laid a soft hand on her shoulder. “Betsy, did Aunt Agnes . . . ?” I took a step to the side and saw the imprint of Aunt Agnes’s hand on Betsy’s cheek. Seeing the red welt, I felt the ghost of my aunt’s palm on my own cheek from times past. “Oh, Betsy, I’m sorry.”
She sidestepped my concern. “Let’s get you dressed, miss. If you’re not ready in time, things will only be worse for me.”
I nodded dumbly, the mark on her face enough to remind me why I was right to fear Aunt Agnes’s wrath. Betsy helped me out of my dress and then slipped the new one over my head, fastening the back. The distant part of my brain admired her quick handiwork and steady manner, even after the abuse she’d endured at my aunt’s hand.
She motioned for me to sit at the vanity, where she began to arrange my hair. All I could think as she combed and twisted and pinned was that I would be made to pay for our dismissal. Though I couldn’t think of how, with Harry away at Harrow, Aunt Agnes would find a way to use him to punish me.
“Thank you, Betsy. And I’m sorry—”
“Hurry now, miss. Lady Everdale will be waiting.” After helping me with my gloves, Betsy practically shoved me out the door.
Aunt Agnes’s stern face greeted me. Her dark-brown hair, lightened by the first whispers of gray, sat high atop her head, making her seem even more daunting than usual. She hid her age well, keeping with the fashions of much younger women, but wrinkles had begun to appear about her mouth, probably from the look of vexation she so often aimed at me. “And are you quite recovered from your headache, Juliet?” she asked, her voice as composed as ever. It was only from years of practice that I had learned to discern the underlying inflection that indicated her displeasure.
I took an involuntary step back. Not that she would strike me before we made our way downstairs—to Aunt Agnes, appearances were everything.
“I am sorry for my absence last night, Lady Everdale.” I used her title per her request when we were away from home. “Yesterday’s long journey tired me. I hope I did not displease you.”
She peered at me closely, clearly doubting my words. “And how did you pass the afternoon?”
“In my room, my lady.” I spoke the truth, if not the whole of it. It would be revealed soon enough.
“I see. Well, be assured you will stay for the entirety of this evening’s events.”
I nodded, knowing no escape would be possible. Or probably necessary, since we could very well be asked to leave
