A Scandalous Charade (21 page)

“You’re brave!” Georgie contended passionately, which was quite surprising to Juliet, and her eyes grew round at her sister’s words.

“Brave?” The combination of a laugh and a cry escaped her throat. “You think I’m brave to have fallen in love with Luke Beckford?”

They sat quietly for a while, just staring at each other as the sky began to darken outside. They would have to stop an inn soon. No one with any sense traveled these roads at night. Just as Juliet peeked out her window, Georgie cleared her throat. “Have you really fallen in love with him?”

An all too familiar lump lodged itself in Juliet’s throat. “Please, Georgie. I don’t want to talk about Luke anymore.”

Georgie smiled wistfully. “Very well. But you know I’ll be here when you’re ready. Would you like me to tell you what a fool I’ve been?”

Juliet sobered up immediately. Georgie was kind, strict, and loving. Foolishness was not one of her qualities. “What are you talking about?”

Juliet could hardly believe her sister’s words. Lord Carraway wanted to marry Georgie? She’d had absolutely no idea. Is that why he was always around Prestwick House? She’d honestly thought it was so he could spend time with Edmund. How could she have been so blind?

“...And I was foolish. I should have married him. He keeps telling me that he’s not like Teynham, and I know that in my heart.”

Things started to make sense to Juliet. Georgie’s sullenness after Edmund’s departure. She was certain her sister missed their brother, but the misery she’d seen in Georgie’s eyes was one she now intimately understood.

“But you’re still afraid.” It wasn’t a question. Juliet had seen the bruises her sister had tried to keep hidden when Teynham was alive. Who knew what internal scars Georgie still held harbored from those terrible years?

Though Georgie didn’t answer—she didn’t have to—and Juliet’s heart went out to her sister. “But you want to marry him anyway? Well, then, you’re braver than I am.”

 With a faint smile, Georgie nodded her head. “He’s been carrying around a special license with him for months, hoping that I’ll finally agree.”

Juliet had a hard time imagining the dignified and stodgy Lord Carraway begging her sister to marry him. He didn’t seem the sort, and the thought brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. But if he truly loved Georgie, her sister would be well cared after. Phineas Granard did nothing by half, and there wasn’t a cruel bone in the viscount’s body. How she wished that he and Edmund were home.  Georgie deserved to be happy, to be loved. And she desperately missed Edmund. His joyful exuberance would take her mind off Luke.

***

When Juliet and Georgie first arrived at Prestwick Chase, they were surprised at the level of disrepair that appeared to encompass the entire estate. Tenant cottages had visible holes in both their roofs and walls. The rectory was nearly tumbling to the ground. Even the manor house itself seemed dismal and dreary—it wasn’t a place either of them recognized.

They were greeted out front by their cousins Hugh and Althea. It had been years since Juliet had laid eyes on either of them, but she recognized the two immediately. Both looked like St. Claires with their icy blue eyes and light colored hair. Hugh and Juliet were of an age, and she remembered him quite well. As a child, he had once cut her curls and then denied it when questioned by the duke. Her father chose not to believe her, and Hugh had gone unpunished.

In his outdated country apparel, Hugh bowed grandly and smiled at them. “Cousins! We are so excited that you’ve finally come to visit us.”

In Edmund’s home. The jab was on the tip of Juliet’s tongue, but she bit it back. She was here. There was no point in starting off on the wrong foot.

Hugh dropped a kiss on Georgie’s cheek, then turned to Juliet. His light eyes assessed her before he leaned in, kissing her too. He smelled of stale tobacco and a hint of sandalwood. He lingered longer than she would have liked, his unshaven whiskers pressing into her cheek. “Heavens, Jules,” he whispered in her ear, “I had no idea you’d become such a radiant creature.”

Radiant.

She knew what that meant. She’d been chased by every fortune hunter in London. And if Hugh St. Claire wasn’t a fortune hunter, he certainly should be. He was worth nothing, and she was well aware of that fact. Juliet stepped away from him and smiled coolly. “So good to see you, cousin.”

Althea, younger than Juliet by a few years, stepped forward and hooked her arm with Georgie’s. “Where’s Lissy?”

Georgie forced a smile to her face as they started through the once grand doors of Prestwick Chase. “I’ve been remiss, Althea, and neglected to send on Felicity’s good news. She has married an American Captain and is happily living in Boston.”

As her sister continued to positively spin Felicity’s flighty blunder, Hugh slid his hand possessively up Juliet’s back, and she flinched. Why did she ever allow Georgie to bring her here? And how soon could they possibly leave?

“It’s been too long since you were home,” Hugh remarked lightly. “I’ve missed you.”

“Indeed.” Juliet stepped away from him, and glanced around at the tattered walls. Really, when was the last time someone cleaned the place? “I imagine you’ve had to chop off all of Althea’s hair, since I’ve been unavailable.”

Hugh chuckled, and tugged on one of her loose curls. “You’ve never forgiven me for that, have you?”

She didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t feel like being here, but it was better to keep Hugh talking, as it seemed to keep his hands off her. “You told my father that I butchered my own hair. After dealing with him, I couldn’t sit down for a week. And it took nearly a year for my hair to grow back.”

Uncle Albert stepped out from the study—the one that had once belonged to her father. The years hadn’t changed him a bit. He was still a robust man, with cool, unemotional eyes, and fine reddish-blond hair. When his gaze landed on Georgie and Juliet, his thin lips turned up into a slight grin. “My dear nieces, how lovely to see you both.”

“As always.” There was something in the chilly look of her uncle’s eyes that made Juliet’s hair stand on end. She silently thanked God that Edmund wasn’t with them, that Georgie had sent him to India. There wasn’t anything Uncle Albert could do to get his clutches into her sweet little brother. At least not right now.

Uncle Albert gestured to Althea with a flick of his wrist. “Show your cousins to their rooms.”

***

Juliet looked around her chamber and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. There were tons of them. The place honestly looked as if it was falling in on itself.  The drapes were dusty and the room smelled of mold. Her father would have been mortified to ever see The Chase look like this.

She was surprised when Hugh delivered her trunk to her room. He didn’t stay long, but Juliet found it odd that a footman hadn’t done the job. Of course, she hadn’t seen a butler, the housekeeper, a maid—not any servants at all. How very strange.

She slumped down on the bed, curled up, and prayed that she’d awake in her room in Upper Brook Street. That she was still in London. That all of this bad been a bad dream. That Luke truly cared for her.

Juliet had no idea how long she’d remained in place, staring at the slowly darkening sky through her drapes, but eventually Georgie knocked on the door and entered the room. “Jules, what are you doing, just lying there? Didn’t you hear the dinner chime?”

No. She hadn’t heard anything. She simply shook her head.

With a huge sigh, Georgie opened Juliet’s wardrobe and pulled out a simple cambric gown of soft pink.  “Come on. Up with you. I’ll play your maid.”

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered and rolled onto her side.

Georgie wouldn’t take no for an answer and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll not be rude on our first night here.  Now, pull off your dress.”

Juliet slid ungracefully off the bed with a pout and pulled her traveling gown up over her head. “I don’t know why—”

Georgie’s gasp cut off her complaint. Then Juliet felt her sister gingerly touch the bruise on her shoulder. “Dear God, Juliet! Did Luke do this to you?”

Juliet tried to shake her sister’s hands off her. “No! Of course not. I slipped, Georgie.”

Georgie’s soft touch followed the bruise all the way down Juliet’s back. “Yes, I use to slip quite often when I was married to Teynham too. When I get my hands on Luke Beckford, I swear to you, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Taking your innocence and this!”

Juliet spun around to face her sister, one lone tear trailing down her cheek. “Georgie, Luke didn’t—I’m telling you the truth. I slipped when I got out of the coach. It was cold and I wasn’t in my right frame of mind.”

But it didn’t seem as if Georgie could hear her. She tossed Juliet’s traveling dress to a nearby chair and quickly pulled the new gown over her head. Without a word, she buttoned Juliet in, then ushered her out the door and all the way to the drawing room.

As soon as they entered the once golden, now slightly fading room, Juliet noticed that all eyes were on her and that Althea seemed a little flushed. She supposed if she cared, she would have spent more time contemplating the whys of the situation, but truly she didn’t give a whit for any of them.  However, a tall, thin man with graying hair and soft, green eyes caught her attention. He looked familiar, and she found herself staring at him.

“Cousin.” Hugh stepped before her. “Do you remember Sir Nigel?”

Sir Nigel! Of course. The local magistrate had been a dear friend of her father’s. She smiled and inclined her head. “Good to see you again, sir.”

Uncle Albert clapped a hand to Sir Nigel’s back and smirked. “Ah, Nige, is here all the time. I’m sure you’ll see more of him. Shall we make our way to dinner?”

Hugh offered Juliet his arm, which she grudgingly took. She just had to make it through dinner, and then she could retire to her room in peace. In the dining room, Juliet spied her first servant. An older maid that she seemed to recognize. “Millie?” she asked Hugh.

He nodded his head. “I’m afraid things have been a bit tight in recent years. It’s only Millie and Cook that are left.”

Only Millie and Cook? Good Heavens! Two women were the only staff at Prestwick Chase? No wonder the place appeared to be falling down. With Cook in the kitchen, it would be impossible for Millie to do all the work in the massive estate alone. She started to feel a bit guilty that she hadn’t sent funds to keep the place up, but she hadn’t wanted to support her uncle and cousins remaining in The Chase. She figured when Edmund reached his majority, they’d toss their unwanted relations from the place, and then she would make all the necessary repairs, but now she wasn’t so sure The Chase could wait that long.

She found herself seated between Hugh and Sir Nigel, and was soon fiddling with her soup. Soup was a generous word, as it was mainly hot water with just a few vegetables tossed in for good measure.

The rest of dinner was fairly uncomfortable. Hugh sat rigid as a board next to her. Sir Nigel and Uncle Albert discussed one old hunt after another, drinking goblet after goblet of wine. And Althea chatted incessantly with Georgie asking for all sorts of details about Felicity’s new husband—which Georgie made up as she went along. By the time she was finished extolling the virtues of Captain Aaron Pierce, the man came off as a veritable saint.

When the men were finally ready for their port, Juliet was ready to climb out of her skin. So she quickly said good night to the others and started back to her chambers, prepared to forget the night all together. As she climbed the stairs, memories of her childhood days in this house washed over her. It was going to take a lot of effort to get The Chase back to where it should be. It was the ancestral home of the Duke of Prestwick, but it looked like a pile of rubbish.