Page 77 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“The Duchess of Lantham? You wrote and wished to speak to her? About what?” Juliet asked in a panic.
“That is my business,” Cecily said softly. “You wait here for me, my dear. There is much I need to speak to her about.” She left Juliet to shelter under one of the nearby trees and walked towards the Duchess of Lantham.
Shocked, wondering what on earth this meeting could mean, Juliet never took her eyes off Cecily and the Duchess of Lantham together. From this distance, unable to hear their words over the rain and the quacking ducks, she judged that they had somewhat a cordial greeting before Cecily launched into some sort of long speech, perhaps rehearsed.
She clearly had to say much, and to Juliet’s despair, she judged she was a part of it, for the Duchess of Lantham looked towards Juliet more than once.
Cecily broke off, falling still, fidgeting and shifting her weight between her feet. Juliet wondered if Cecily would turn and run, abandon whatever she was trying to do with this moment, but to her surprise, the Duchess of Lantham was the next to move. She stepped forward and took Cecily’s hand, patting it for a moment.
From their position, Juliet could see the duchess’ mouth move and tried to guess what she was saying.
“I have had such suspicions myself.”
Suspicions? Suspicions about what?
Juliet could attempt no further lip reading, though, as the Duchess of Lantham turned her and Cecily away. They locked their arms together and wandered around the pond, talking in low tones together.
Juliet looked at the maid who sheltered under a nearby oak tree, but the maid shrugged, looking as lost and as confused as she was. Juliet’s eyes returned to her mother, and she saw that the more they talked, the more comfortable Cecily and the duchess looked in one another’s company. They even smiled and made jests with one another. When they were both soaked in the rain, they returned and came straight towards Juliet.
She stepped forward, wringing her hands together uncertainly, not knowing what this meeting meant.
“Your Grace.” Juliet curtsied to the lady.
“I am glad to meet you properly at last.” The Duchess of Lantham took her hand gently. It was a surprisingly intimate touch, not stiff and formal as so many greetings between the families over the last few weeks had been.
“And I you,” Juliet whispered.
“Well, we have an agreement.” The Duchess of Lantham released her and turned back to Cecily, smiling a little. “You are right, Cecily. It is high time such things came to an end, especially when others …” She glanced Juliet’s way. “Could be suffering from our errors. We shall speak soon?”
“Yes, let’s.” Cecily nodded. The two ladies smiled at each other and parted. Juliet waited until the Duchess of Lantham had left the park with her maid, then turned to her mother.
“What precisely did you two discuss?”
“You shall know soon enough.” Cecily took her hand and led her out of the park.
***
“Speak to her.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“She is your daughter, for God’s sake. I do not need to tell you how to talk to her.”
“You know I can hear you both, do you not?” Juliet called to her parents through the open door of her bedchamber. Sat at her writing bureau, she had a blanket sheet of paper in front of her that, so far, merely bore the wordsDear Arthur,and nothing more. Since she had returned from the park with her mother, her despondency had deteriorated further, and she found she had begun this note, needing to speak to him.
Robert abruptly appeared through the doorway, and judging by the sharpness of his movements, Juliet rather thought Cecily had pushed him inside. For good measure, she closed the door behind him, too.
“Subtle, is she not?” Juliet attempted a jest, though she could not smile.
“Always has been,” Robert continued the jest and walked towards her, sitting in a chair close to her bureau. “The pair of us have been talking.”
“So I heard.”
“We are worried about you.” Robert laid a hand over hers on the desk. “You are not happy, Juliet. It pains me to see it.”
She smiled sadly as she looked into her father’s eyes, touched by his warmth and concern.
“Is it this betrothal?” Robert said calmly and then sighed, evidently not needing to hear her words. “It brings you no glad tidings, does it?”
