Page 26 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
She had thought so much of what his touch would be like that the goosebumps had risen on her skin and she had scarcely even noticed that Meg was unusually quiet as she prepared Juliet’s gown for the day.
“It is an old argument.” Violet’s sudden declaration drew Juliet’s attention. Juliet played a card as she noted Violet staring at their parents.
“What was that?”
“The argument between our father and the Duke of Lantham.” Violet shrugged. “I know it affected our father deeply. It affected his chance of business with the king.”
“That was not the problem.” Juliet shook her head. “Our father is successful in his own right and all his horses have done well since at the races, even if he never attends them personally in order to avoid the Duke of Lantham. No, the problem was not business but the loss of trust. Our father thought the duke was his most trusted friend in the world. It was the betrayal that hurt.”
“Hmm.” Violet was now the one who was distracted, and Juliet was able to win the round, much to Violet’s relief. “Well, it was still so long ago, one has to wonder if it would ever be possible for the rift between the families to be reconciled.”
“Pff, you’re in jest, are you not?” Juliet laughed under her breath. “No rift that has lasted twenty years could possibly be remedied so easily.”
“I did not say it would be easy.”
“Vi, listen to yourself.” Juliet hesitated before she dealt out the next cards. “This family rift drove apart one happy couple who have not seen each other since. Any attempt for the families to be friends again, I think, is unlikely. Even if you could figure out what did happen to father’s horse all those years ago, there has been too much time and distance since, too many throwaway comments at dinners and parties in the ton.”
“I know it would be a lot to cover.” Violet fidgeted with the cards. “But stranger things have happened.”
“Romeo probably thought once his family could be reconciled with the Capulets too. Look how right he was.” Juliet’s wryness earned her a reprimanding tap on the arm. “You have a romantic heart, Vi, but we must be practical. Do not intrude on our father’s argument with the Duke of Lantham. It is too engrained in their lives to be shifted now.”
“So, you are happy never to see Lord Ashton again, are you?”
Juliet halted, no longer shuffling the cards but staring down at them in the candlelight. Such a longing filled her body, such a need that she couldn’t move a single muscle. It wasn’t just the desire, the lust to want to know Lord Ashton more, but wanting to know his mind, too, his character. She longed to hear of his travels on the continent, to hear him make more jests. She just wanted to be beside him.
Maybe I am losing my mind.
“If it comes to it.” She tried to hide the emotion strangling her voice and shuffled the cards once more. “This is out of our hands. We must accept it.”
“Since when do you accept anything being out of your hands?” Violet asked with a roll of her eyes. “You have always done things your own way.”
“Maybe this time it would be a step too far.” Juliet couldn’t tell Violet that she was tempted, that if Lord Ashton were in the house next door now, she would be finding a way to see him. She would sound truly scandalous as if she didn’t care about being a lady of the ton at all anymore, all for the sake of seeing a man again. “Leave it be, Vi. We must accept it. Let us talk of something else instead.”
“As you wish. Let us talk about what an appalling cribbage player you are instead,” Violet said with victory and put down some cards, earning herself some points.
“I won the last round,” Juliet pointed out.
“And lost the last seven rounds. Come on, if you are ever to see Lord Ashton again, I do not suppose he would be impressed by your card playing.”
“Oi.” Juliet made sure to win some points in their next round.
Chapter 8
“Edward? Edward, are you listening to me?”
Yet Edward wasn’t listening. His mind was far elsewhere. He was no longer staring at his plate on the breakfast table before him, but he was on the staircase of the house. He stood on the bottom step, a young boy, holding onto his mother’s hand as he watched his father rant and argue with another.
He could still remember it vividly: the crimson cheeks of his father, the heavy glare, and the confused and hurt expression of the other man, the man Edward had once called Robert as if he were an uncle, but he now knew was the Earl of Clarence.
“Edward!” Jane sat down beside him and poked his arm.
Torn away from the memory, Edward shifted his focus to his sister beside him. She was glaring at him, blowing her long, dark fringe out of her eyes as she waited for him to answer.
“Are you ill?”
“Ill? No, not at all.” Edward forced a laugh. “I’m just debating going for a ride today.”
“Yes, you look like a man of action.” She pointed at the very still way he was sitting at the table. “You have been in this strange mood for the last two days.”
