Page 56 of The Paid Companion

“No, forgive me.” The lady reached up with one dainty, gloved hand and lowered her cowl to reveal an elegant coiffure. Her hair was most likely a golden blonde shade, but in the eerie light it had the appearance of magically spun silver. “My name is Juliana Burnley.”

Arthur’s former fiancée. Elenora managed, barely, not to groan aloud. The evening was progressing from bad to awkward. Where was Margaret when she was needed?

“Mrs. Burnley,” she murmured.

“Please, call me, Juliana.” She removed her mask.

Elenora had heard enough in the way of gossip to guess that Juliana was very pretty. The reality was somewhat daunting. Even here in the weak light of the moon, it was easy to see that Juliana was nothing short of beautiful. Her features were finely etched and delicately made.

Everything about her was so dainty and lovely as to be a little unreal. Here, amidst the moonlit foliage, Juliana looked like a fairy queen holding court in a moonlit garden.

“As you wish.” Elenora lowered her own mask. “You obviously know who I am.”

“St. Merryn’s new fiancée.” Juliana floated to a halt a short distance away. “I suppose I should offer my congratulations.” She ended the sentence on a rising note, as though asking a question.

“Thank you,” Elenora said coolly. “Was there something you wanted?”

Juliana flinched. “I’m sorry, I’m not handling this very well. The truth is, I’m not sure how to go about it.”

Nothing was so irritating as a person who hemmed and hawed and refused to get to the point, Elenora thought.

“What, precisely, are you attempting to accomplish?” she asked.

“This is so difficult. Perhaps it would be easier if you would allow me to start at the beginning.”

“If you feel that will help.”

Juliana turned slightly away and examined a nearby plant as though she had never seen anything like it in her entire life. “I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip.”

“I know that you were engaged to St. Merryn and that you eloped with Roland Burnley, if that is what you mean.” She did not bother to conceal her impatience.

Juliana clenched one gloved hand. “I had no choice. My parents were determined to marry me off to St. Merryn. They would never have allowed me to end the engagement. I am certain that if I had confided to Papa that I couldn’t bring myself to go through with the wedding, he would have locked me in my room and fed me bread and water until I agreed to obey him.”

“I see,” Elenora said neutrally.

“You don’t believe me? I assure you, Papa is very strict. He will not tolerate any disagreement. Everything must be done according to his dictates. And Mama would not go against him. I would have done almost anything to escape the marriage they intended for me. My dear Roland came to my rescue.”

“I see.”

Juliana smiled wistfully. “He is handsome and noble and very, very brave. There is no other man I know who would have stood up to both my father and his own, not to mention St. Merryn, in order to save me from a horrid marriage.”

“You’re certain that marriage to St. Merryn would have been horrid?”

“It would have been intolerable.” Juliana shuddered. “During the weeks that I was engaged to him I used to lie in bed at night and cry until dawn. I pleaded with Papa to find another husband for me, but he refused.”

“What, precisely, made you so sure that you could not bear to be married to St. Merryn?”

Juliana’s neat brows came together in a delicate frown of confusion. “Why, because he is exactly like Papa, of course. How could I possibly wish to marry a man who would treat me the way Papa always treated me? A man who never paid the least attention to my opinions? A man who never allowed me to make my own decisions? A man who insisted upon playing the tyrant in his own home? Why, I would rather have entered a convent.”

The light of understanding began to dawn. It was abruptly quite clear why Juliana had run off with her Roland.

“Well, that does explain a few things, I suppose,” Elenora replied.

Juliana searched her face. “You’re not the least bit afraid of St. Merryn, are you?”

The unexpected question caught Elenora by surprise. She thought about it briefly. She had a good measure of respect for Arthur, and she certainly had no wish to arouse his temper unnecessarily. Nor would she care to cross him. But fear him?

“No,” she said.

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