Chapter Two #3
‘My family is unlikely to bestir themselves on my behalf now,’ Juliana told him bluntly.
‘They fault me for not having brought Ian to the altar when I could. Mama says if I’d had the least bit of physical charm or feminine allure, I’d have—’ she broke off, seeing by the look on Rafe’s face that she’d said too much.
‘Well, no matter. A Season in London would almost certainly be wasted on me. Not even you, despite your f-fondness for me—’ she forced herself to say the diminishing word ‘—could claim I possess any of the qualities trained into most young maidens entering the Marriage Mart. Deference to the prominent. The ability to pay flattering attention to gentlemen. A delight in social functions, fashion and gossip. And any desire whatever to beguile the highest-ranking and richest gentleman possible into wedding me.’
‘You have other fine qualities, though,’ he said stoutly. ‘Honesty. Loyalty. Compassion. The expertise to manage an estate. To say nothing of a keen sense of observation, a quick wit and a superior talent at sketching and painting.’
Trying to resist being warmed by his praise, she said, ‘Mama would not consider most of those traits desirable—especially honesty and quick wit. “A lady must never express an opinion, unless it is to agree with a gentleman’s.”’ She sighed.
‘I was taken to task often enough for my frankness when Aggie’s fiancé dined with us en famille after their engagement.
Indeed, Mama threatened to banish me entirely from appearing at family dinners unless I learned to be silent. Which I did.’
Frowning, Rafe said, ‘You were not “out” when your sister was presented, so that stricture seems a bit extreme. Lady Waverton couldn’t have been worried that you might scare away potential suitors.’
‘True, but with Aggie engaged, Mama was already counting on shortly seeing me betrothed to Ian in her stead. Eliminating the need for an expensive London Season or any requirement for me to appear “desirable,” as long as my odd behaviour didn’t alienate Aggie’s intended.’
‘What does your family intend for you, then?’
No point describing her mother’s fury upon learning Ian had expired with them still unwed.
Or the blistering scold that lady had administered before she broke down in tears and ordered Juliana from her presence after telling her she’d washed her hands of her and never wished to see her again.
‘I don’t think they have any plans. I do, however, and as Mama stopped short of forbidding me the house for my failings, once we finish going over estate matters, I’ll return to Edgerton Manor only long enough to finalize them. ’
‘Forbid you the house?’ Rafe echoed, bristling. ‘I should hope not! You are still her daughter, whatever your mother thinks of your behaviour and prospects. And if she truly believes you possess neither charm nor allure, the woman is ignorant.’
Dear Rafe, trying again to bolster her self-esteem.
But she’d listened to her mother catalogue the attributes men found attractive—a soft, womanly form, blond hair, blue eyes, a pretty deference to his superiority coupled with a pleasing, flirtatious manner—often enough to know she possessed none of them.
‘You mustn’t disturb yourself; I won’t tarry long under Mama’s roof. I do have those prospects, after all.’
Rafe studied her a long moment, while Juliana tried to keep her expression confident and reassuring.
‘I’ll try not to keep you at Thornthwaite too long, then.
Whoever the astute young man who’s captured your fancy is, I hope he won’t carry you too far away.
I expect I’ll need to call on you for advice about the estate for some time, until I make the transition from soldier to farmer. ’
‘We can start discussing it tonight.’ She’d guide him to talk about her observations and recommendations, steering him away from the dangerous topic of her future.
Which he obviously assumed involved a proposal from some other young man.
If he only knew how unlikely that possibility was, to say nothing of unappealing!
He’d also likely object if he knew her true intentions.
Soon after Ian’s death, she’d written about her loss to Lady Fallsham, an elderly woman she’d met in one of the botanical rooms at the British Museum during her sister’s Season and with whom she’d struck up a friendship.
The widow had swiftly replied, inviting Juliana to come live with her and the equally elderly cousin who currently served as her companion.
An invitation Juliana had immediately accepted, asking only to delay until she might acquaint the new earl with the information he would need to assume management of his estate.
Lady Fallsham’s country home, Fallsham Hall, would provide the perfect refuge.
Juliana could assist a lady she admired, one who, unlike her own mother, approved of her interests and would encourage her to continue her studies and her sketching.
She could immerse herself in assisting Lady Fallsham and in learning about and filling her sketchbooks with a new series of birds, insects and animals.
She could also establish a correspondence with Rafe. Advise him on estate matters when he asked and keep up with what was going on in his life—but from a safe distance.
Which consulting with him in person was not.
Already temptation was whispering at her to scoot closer to him on the sofa, to use the excuse of making a point to tap his sleeve or press her hand against his.
She suspected if she gave in and permitted herself those glancing contacts, her greedy senses would only crave more and more.
Spend too much time with him, and her fierce desire might overwhelm caution, propelling her into some irretrievable action—reacting to a brotherly kiss with unseemly passion or binding herself to him in a too-tight embrace—from which he would, in the best case, recoil.
Or in the worst case, react with a revulsion that would lead him to sever any remaining bonds between them.
Best to leave soon, in honour and friendship that would allow friendship to continue. So if she could not share it, she would at least not be permanently exiled from his life.
Easier, too, to remain at a distance and suffer the pain of loneliness than stay close. Even as she told herself it was foolish beyond belief to allow each expression of tepid affection to cut so deeply, her heart slowly bleeding from every little wound.