Page 67 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
Involuntarily, Juliet’s eyes slid away. She looked at the Duke of Lantham and his family, her eyes most particularly on Edward. He was no longer talking to Clarissa with such rapt attention but was staring straight back at Juliet. Her heart skipped in her chest, and she despised her body for her reaction to him.
It seemed that despite her wish to shut down all her feelings for him, it could not be done so easily. She still cared for him, still desired him, still loved him, even if she felt betrayed by him.
“I’m a mad woman,” she murmured angrily to herself, so quietly that no one heard the words, though Violet glanced her way, clearly aware she had said something.
Fearing Edward would come towards her, Juliet stuck close to her sister’s side as they placed a bet on the first race and then went to join their parents. They sat close together, their eyes trained on the course as they waited for the first race to begin.
There was a space beside Juliet in the seating. Feeling watched, she looked up from the space and sought out the pair of eyes that were indeed watching her.
Edward had moved a little in the crowd. He was no longer with his family or Clarissa and seemed intent on walking towards her.
What game is he playing with me now?
She looked pointedly between him and her father, trying to communicate with her eyes that this was not the time to talk to him. Still, he walked purposefully towards her.
I cannot speak to him. I cannot bear it!
She put her reticule down on the chair with flourishing movement, displaying to him how much she did not wish him to join her. He froze in the crowd, and fortunately, no other in her party seemed to have noticed him when there were so many around them.
“May I, Juliet?” a voice startled her, and she looked around. Arthur had returned, his rather sickly smile pulling at the pale lips as he offered a cup of tea to her.
“Thank you.” She took the cup and then the reticule, too, creating a space for him to sit down. He perched hurriedly and leaned towards her, so much so that she shuffled away and bumped arms with Violet, in danger of spilling her tea.
“It’s beginning,” Cecily hissed further down the line of seating.
Rather than look at the race, Juliet turned her attention to her father. There was such eagerness in his gaze, his jaw set tight, that she realized something about this race. It was possible that Robert saw this race against the Duke of Lantham’s horse as a chance to regain his pride. If he could beat the Duke of Lantham’s horse at last with one of his own, it would be a display that he could train horses as well as the duke.
Cheers went up all around them, and Juliet finally turned her eyes away from her father, who was now teetering on the edge of his seat. She looked through the crowd instead, seeing that, surprisingly, the Duke of Lantham did not cheer on his own horse but stood quite woodenly by the fence, watching in silence. A short distance behind him stood Edward, who was still looking straight at Juliet.
What does he want with such a look? What can it possibly mean?
A lady walked up behind him, shifting her bonnet a little to reveal her face – it was Lady Clarissa once again. She pulled Edward’s arm and whispered something in his ear.
Juliet spilled the tea in her lap, though she hardly cared. She had no wish to drink it.
No one around her seemed to notice; they were too fixed on the race and the two horses leading the chase.
She was too sick at the sight of Edward and Clarissa together to take much notice herself. Her skin through her gown burnt, and with her heart hammering in her chest, in time to the jeers and roars that urged the horses on, she, at last, turned her focus to the race.
There were two horses out in front. Unmistakably, the two horses belonged to her father and the Duke of Lantham.
Juliet’s jaw dropped as the horses ran together, practically nose to nose, neither one streaking out in front.
“Oh, Robert,” Cecily cried excitedly. “He’s going to do it. He’s going to win!”
Robert was now on his feet, standing tall over the others in their seats as he muttered under his breath.
“Come on, come on … this race, this one, at last.”
Juliet wasn’t sure if he pleaded with the air, God, or the horse, but he was desperate.
“Please,” Juliet whispered aloud herself, wanting it for her father’s sake.
Then, out of nowhere, the Duke of Lantham’s horse started to inch ahead.
“No!” Violet cried, now also on her feet. Even Brandon, tugging on her arm, could not pull her back to sit down again. Robert no longer called out pleadingly, and they all watched, fixed like wooden statues, as the Duke of Lantham’s horse streaked across the finish line, and their horse came in second.
Juliet’s eyes shot down to Edward and his father. The Duke of Lantham nodded, content, if not overawed, with the good result. He turned and clapped Edward on the shoulder for a job well done. When Clarissa stood at Edward’s side, trailing a hand on his arm, one of pleasure and affection, Juliet dropped her cup completely. The china broke on the floor at her feet, though only Arthur appeared to notice.
