Chapter 10 #2
“Oh, he could. But I did my best not to give him the impression that I would.”
“Then let us go somewhere, anywhere. Jeremy, can we have the carriage?”
“Where are you going?”
“Wherever you will take us. Can we shop for new dresses?”
“Why don’t we go to the British Museum instead?”
“That place is so dull.” Juliet pouted, frowning. “Amelia, you would rather go shopping, would you not?”
“Honestly? I have always wanted to visit the British Museum.” I gave her an apologetic look.
“Why can we not do both?” Juliet was ever the enthusiastic planner and negotiator.
“Get your bonnets, ladies.” Jeremy’s face contorted as if he were trying not to laugh.
The British Museum was as fascinating as I’d ever imagined it would be. But I felt as if we’d only just arrived when Juliet insisted it was time to go shopping.
“Why does anyone like history and historical objects?” Juliet huffed out a breath. “I cannot understand all this looking at the past. Why not look forward to lovely dresses and balls and parties?”
I said, “I like history. It is fascinating to see what other people did and how they lived.”
Juliet sighed. “Very well. I would not cut your enjoyment short.”
Jeremy couldn’t help sneaking glances at Miss Amelia Moore while she stared, open-mouthed at times, at the natural history exhibits, as well as at the works of cultural history.
She would gasp, say, “Oh, my,” and lean closer.
Since Juliet cared nothing about the exhibits and was often talking to other people in the crowd while they explored the museum, Miss Moore would end up talking to him.
“Is this real?” she said in a breathless voice, pointing to a shrunken head from South America.
“I believe it is.”
She leaned closer to the glass case. “It looks as if they sewed the hair back on its head.”
“And they sewed the eyes shut.”
“Yes. Just think, this was a real human person. It’s so gruesome. But I cannot look away. Do you think it was a missionary, killed by a pagan tribe?”
“Possibly. Or more likely someone from an enemy tribe killed in battle.”
She stared a minute longer, then a shiver went across her shoulders, and she moved to the next exhibit.
He no longer saw her as he had at the beginning of her friendship with Juliet. He cringed at how he had accused her of only being friends with his sister to get to him. He was almost ready to accept that that was not the case. After all, she avoided him as much as possible.
She became fascinated with a Mayan sculpture of a warrior, then an intricately carved bowl.
“How did they carve stone and wood with such precision, especially when their access to tools was so limited, living in the jungle or the desert?”
“It is very impressive, I agree.”
She was very pretty, with her light brown, almost golden hair, soft cheeks, and dark eyelashes and eyebrows.
Although she was not as strident and assertive as Juliet, her strength of convictions was very great, as he remembered how she’d demanded justice for the servant girl abandoned by Skeffington.
And she displayed a curiosity about the museum that, he had to admit, was enjoyable to watch. She was obviously intelligent, and she possessed a sense of awe and wonder that was so appealing it made his chest ache.
Truly, if he hadn’t ruined his chance with her, he might have been interested in courting her.
But there were many reasons why he shouldn’t try.
She was his sister’s friend, first of all, and he could not pay attention to any lady that he would wish to court while he was trying to watch over Juliet.
His sister must be his priority now. Besides, Amelia Moore obviously disliked him, and she did not seem at all inclined to change her mind about him.
And there was the matter of her family and lack of fortune.
He had only met her aunt and uncle. What if her parents were unintelligent and without manners?
Or worse, were not good people? But that seemed unlikely, based on Miss Moore’s gentility and obvious morality.
Oh, she was almost famous now for having country manners, but that only meant that she was not tight-lipped and insincere, which other more sophisticated ladies seemed to think was what society demanded.
She said what she thought, which would not have been looked upon unfavorably if she were wealthy and titled and powerful.
But for a poor girl, it was nearly unforgivable.
Besides, he could marry a great many girls who would be considered a much better match for him than Miss Moore from Buckinghamshire.
In fact, he’d been thinking seriously of Miss Snowden.
Her mother, Lady Snowden, had given him certain signals indicating she would welcome a marriage proposal from him for her daughter, and he had allowed himself to use that to secure an invitation to her ball for Juliet and Miss Moore, hinting to Lady Snowden that she would be helping him immensely if she also invited Mr. Shelley and Lord Gotthurst and that Juliet was being wrongly gossiped about and needed the approval of someone like her to help save her reputation.
Perhaps that had been wrong. He saw that now, as it would seem as if he were using Lady Snowden and her daughter, the very thing he had so abhorred in Miss Scofield and in Amelia Moore, though he’d been wrong about Miss Moore.
But he truly had been interested in Miss Snowden—until he realized she was just as cold and unfeeling as most young ladies of her set.
What a contrast she made to Amelia Moore.
But as he’d already acknowledged, courting Miss Moore was impossible. It would be best if they simply continued as indifferent acquaintances, connected only by their mutual love for Juliet.