Chapter 3
Jeremy saw right through Mrs. Kendall’s request that they find another chaperone for Juliet’s walk with her niece. These mamas—and in this case, aunts—were shameless in their efforts to procure a wealthy husband for their charges.
In the carriage after the ball, Juliet chattered on about the gentlemen she’d danced with, but she talked even more about her new friend, Miss Amelia Moore.
The last time Juliet had made a friend at a ball—a Miss Scofield from Cheshire—she had spent nearly every waking minute with her.
After several days, when Juliet was not around, Miss Scofield cornered Jeremy in their drawing room and tried to kiss him, admitting that she’d only befriended his sister in order to get close to him.
Of course, many men might have been flattered, or they may have even taken advantage of her, but how could she have thought he would marry her after she shamelessly threw herself at him? Could she have thought he didn’t have a choice? Or that his standards were so low?
He told her in no uncertain terms that she would get no proposal from him.
Perhaps he had been a bit harsh with her.
He should have told her gently but firmly that such actions were not likely to get her a husband, but he’d been extremely put off, thinking about how a young woman could easily compromise her reputation.
If a lady made a claim against him, his name could be tarnished, as would be hers, if he did not marry her forthwith.
But he had no intention of allowing anyone to trap him in an unhappy marriage. He would marry a good woman and not because she trapped him.
“Jeremy,” Juliet said, interrupting his thoughts, “I believe you were rude to Miss Moore. I saw you glowering at her. Why would you do that?” Juliet stared hard from where she sat opposite him.
“You will recall that your friends don’t always have the highest ideals or behavior.”
“That is unfair, Jeremy. Only one—”
“What do you know of this Miss Moore? Nothing.”
“Oh, Jeremy.” Juliet rolled her eyes in that deliberately disrespectful way of hers. “Not everyone is mad with love for you.”
“I never said anything of the kind.”
“Just because Miss Scofield turned out to have ulterior motives concerning you doesn’t mean everyone who wants to be my friend will be the same. Besides, Amelia didn’t even know who I was or that I was your sister.”
“How do you know that? You did hear how her aunt made that flimsy excuse to get me to take you both to the park tomorrow.”
“So suspicious.” Juliet clicked her tongue at him.
“Jeremy, you are being ungenerous, and I will not allow you to speak ill of Amelia Moore. She is a dear, sweet girl, and she is my friend. In fact, she is so artless and so good, I believe she will even win you over. But either way, I will not have you saying anything bad about her.”
She crossed her arms in that stubborn way of hers and stared out the window at the dark London streets.
Why couldn’t she see that he only said these things out of concern for her?
After all, he wasn’t hurt by what Miss Scofield did, but Juliet was.
Her “dear friend” Miss Scofield had left their home after he convinced her he wanted nothing whatever to do with her, but not before taking her revenge against him and Juliet both.
He’d heard Fortescue and his friends talking about Miss Moore’s unsophisticated “country manners,” as well as her eleven brothers and sisters.
That was before he’d realized that she was Juliet’s new friend, and he had walked away, refusing to listen or be a part of their petty, unkind conversation.
But it made her seem even more similar to Miss Scofield, who was also a country girl with a bevy of siblings.
He could not allow Miss Amelia Moore to hurt his sister.
Juliet had been through enough in the last few years, with both their parents dying in close succession.
She might not always be the most prudent girl, but she had a good heart, and she was one of his closest friends, when she wasn’t being his annoying younger sister.
He would not let anyone hurt her or take advantage of her good nature.
Even if his father had not asked him with his dying last words to protect Juliet and ensure her happiness, he would have wanted to do so, as her only brother.
Their older sister, with whom he’d never been very close, had been married for years and rarely visited, so he was glad to be the one to watch over Juliet and shield her from the mercenaries of the world, like Miss Scofield, who only wanted to use her.
The day was cloudy and a bit windy, but when Juliet arrived, she looked as excited as I felt that it wasn’t raining.
Her brother stood just behind her, not openly scowling but not smiling either, and I quickly put on my bonnet. I took up my parasol, and we were off.
Juliet walked close beside me, telling me stories about growing up with her sister and brother in Bedfordshire and being taught by a governess.
Her brother had gone away to school, so most of her stories were not about him, but even the ones that were, he added nothing to the conversation, only walked stoically beside his sister.
Could he not be the least bit cordial? People like him—too haughty to even make conversation—were my least favorite. But perhaps he was unwell, or he simply didn’t care to talk. I should not judge him without knowing him better.
When we entered the park, there were many others taking the air, and Juliet whispered in my ear their names and what she knew of them.
At one point she whispered, “I’m sorry my brother is so rude and isn’t speaking. It is his way, I’m afraid.” She sighed.
“Please do not worry on my account,” I whispered back. “I enjoy spending time with you, and I’m grateful he’s willing to allow us this time.” I said this mostly for Juliet’s sake. Truly, he should not put her in a position to have to make apologies for him.
“You are very gracious, Amelia. I wish I could be good like you.”
“What do you mean? You are very good, Juliet. You were so kind to me at the ball, when I was embarrassing myself with my tears.”
“You were not embarrassing yourself. And if I am good, it is only in the common way. I’m often selfish, thinking of my own pleasure, but I suppose I shall be uncommonly good when I am old.” Juliet grinned as if she’d made a good joke.
Some swans near the lake caught her eye. She grabbed my hand and started running toward them.
I was fairly certain that it was not considered ladylike behavior to run in public, even in a park, but I had little choice but to keep up with her. Jeremy Beaumont followed behind us, completely devoid of his sister’s gaiety.
“Brother, dear,” Juliet said in a voice of fake sweetness, “did you bring the food for the swans?”
He raised a single brow at her, then dug in his pocket. Juliet held out her cupped palms and he poured into them what looked to be a handful of seeds and ground-up bits of grain.
“Give Amelia some swan food too.” Juliet stepped back and nudged me forward.
I was obliged to hold out my hands as he, no doubt reluctantly, dug into his pocket and retrieved another small handful and poured it into my hands. He was careful not to touch me, and some of the bird food overflowed onto the ground.
“Forgive me,” I mumbled without thinking. It was a habit of mine, apologizing when I’d done nothing wrong.
He grunted in a rather rude way.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Nothing at all, Miss Moore,” he said in a sarcastic tone.
I gave him a look of disgust that I only hoped he understood correctly, then quickly turned and walked after Juliet, holding my head high.
We sprinkled our offerings at the edge of the grassy bank, and the swans came swimming toward us. They waddled up onto the bank and began eating. It was the closest I’d ever been to a swan.
“They’re so beautiful,” I said.
“Don’t try to feed them from your hand. It can be a bit painful, the way they attack the food.” Juliet poured out the rest of her grain on the ground and turned to find her brother, who was standing just behind her.
“This is the last of it,” he said, pouring the contents of his pocket into his sister’s hand.
“Come here.” Juliet gave me half. “We shall bring some old bread when we come again. We can throw it onto the water, and they will eat it before it sinks.”
We watched them feed on the seeds and grain, just as a lone goose, which was as large as the swans, came running toward us, honking and raising its wings.
Juliet squealed and ran.
I had seen geese many times at our pond, but I’d never had one run at me. As the goose reached me, it struck me on the hand with its beak.
Jeremy Beaumont stepped in front of me, throwing his arms in the air and commanding the goose to “shoo.”
Bright red blood oozed from a spot on the back of my hand.
I was mortified. I held my hand out in an awkward fashion so it wouldn’t drip on my new dress.
Oh dear. I had no handkerchief, as I hadn’t brought my reticule. If even one drop of blood got on the pale blue fabric, it would ruin it, and I’d have to walk home with blood on my dress.
I felt a little sick.
“Oh, Amelia, you’re hurt!”
“It’s all right. I just need something to stop the bleeding.” My face was starting to burn.
“That mean old goose. Jeremy, do something.”
Mr. Beaumont drew near and wrapped a white handkerchief around my hand. He quickly tied the ends together.
I felt obliged to say, “Thank you,” but I didn’t look him in the eye.
Why had I just stood there and let the goose bite me? The geese at home were wild, but this goose had been so aggressive. Perhaps London geese expected to be fed. Was that why it bit me?
I looked up, and my eyes met Mr. Beaumont’s. He’d seemed kind when he wrapped my hand with his handkerchief, gruff, but gentle.
He abruptly turned away.
“Are you all right?” Juliet bent her head to gaze into my eyes.