Page 57 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
The shrewd gaze of her father lingered on Jules’s face.
“It is human to think about companionship. I fully expect that you will start thinking about taking a wife yourself, Jules. However, those ladies are not for you. We do not have the connections or wealth for you to hang your hat for an earl or a marquess’s daughter.”
Shocked, she laughed. “Papa, I assure you I am not thinking about any of the ladies in that manner. I would not dare to be so presumptuous in my interactions, however little they are with the duchess’s guests.”
Her father studied her, brows furrowed. He twirled the pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “Have you developed feelings for someone that you wish to speak about?”
Oh God, this was beyond uncomfortable. “No, Father. And if I should, I would not discuss it with you. That would be a private matter I must see to myself.”
A smile hovered about his mouth and his eyes gleamed with sudden humor. Her heart lightened to see it there, and Jules shared a smile with her father, that ache surfacing in her heart once more.
“Well, whichever young lady you take to be your wife will be very lucky indeed. You are a fine fellow, son.”
Jules stared at him, the heaviness returning to her shoulders. “What if I should live the life of a bachelor?”
Her father pushed his spectacles atop his nose. “I thought that of myself once; the only thing that mattered to me was scholarly pursuit. You are very much like me, and I am proud you have followed in my footsteps with your studies. Very proud. I also know that, like me, when you meet the right person, your perspective will change on many things.”
She closed her fingers on the edge of the gazebo railing. Was it possible the sensations of want were the same for men and women? “What did it feel like, Papa, when you met Mama?”
A faraway look entered her father’s eyes, and he sighed. “It felt like life suddenly made sense. That bit of life that always seemed empty even if one did not understand the reason for that emptiness was filled, and I knew your mother was the lady for me.”
Unexpected anger wrenched through her chest, and she took a deep breath. “If Mama was so very precious to you, Papa, why was it so very important for you to have a male heir?”
Papa jerked, before faltering into stillness.
“What do you speak of?” he demanded gruffly, lowering the pencil and closing his notebook. “Why would your mother speak of this to you?”
Jules curled her nails so tightly into her palms that they dented her skin. She had not yet confided to her mother that she wanted to reveal everything to her father. The only time Jules had suggested it, she had been twelve when she had finally understood her femininity, with the arrival of her menses, and her mother had dissolved into hysterical tears and fainted. Jules had felt then she had to protect her at all cost, even though she had not understood the depth of her mother’s anxiety. If father loved her as he claimed, should her mother fear revealing the truth this much?
“Mother and I speak about many things, Father,” she said drily. “Your need for a male heir was simply one of them.”
For a moment her father appeared angry and uncertain before his expression smoothed. “I was a much younger man then, less learned, and less tolerant. I wanted a son very badly, and your mother understood her duty.”
Jules narrowed her gaze on him. “What if I had been born a girl, Papa?”
He blinked. “I cannot understand this line of questioning; it is rather nonsensical, as you are my son.”
Jules’s heart beat so fast, her chest ached. “I gather Mama would have been forced to the marriage bed once again if I had been born a girl…despite the risk to her health. A very odd way to show your love and devotion to the lady that filled that emptiness in your heart.”
His eyes flashed and he surged to his feet. “You dare to speak to me in this manner about a situation you have little understanding about, or better, a situation that is not your business?”
Jules released a deep breath and stood. “I should tender an apology, but I am not sorry, Papa. I merely wanted to understand…”
“The past between your mother and myself is our private business,” he snapped.
Her father stepped forward, before stiffening and closing his eyes. He seemed to master whatever emotion tore at him for when his lashes flickered up, he was contained. “We shall not have this discussion again. The duchess approaches; I shall go and speak with her.”
Her father went down the steps and strolled toward the duchess, an air of geniality settling on him. Jules stared after him, that awful ache rising inside her chest. She would say nothing more to her father until she spoke with her mother. That would be a distressing discussion and she knew she’d need to be very delicate in how she approached the matter, but while she did not wish to shed the advantages of being believed the male sex, the feminine side of herself was struggling with wanting to be fully a woman—at least with James.
…
Lady Emelia Johnson was the daughter of a duke. It was expected for her to marry another duke and give birth to a duke. She peered at James with bright blue eyes filled with gentle humor and compassion. Lady Emelia was rather beautiful, if one appreciated delicate English beauties. Her long blond hair was worn in a shower of ringlets and bounced as she moved. Her tightly bustled ivory gown was festooned with ruffles of coffee-colored lace and although he thought it was a bit too much, it suited her. And from how his mother acted, this was the young lady she would select as his future duchess.
“My mother is very much anticipating meeting you, Your Grace,” Lady Emelia said, smiling at him prettily. “She hopes you will be able to attend her yearly ball, which will be held in a few weeks. It is a most coveted invitation, and you will be Mama’s honored guest.”
“I shall look forward to it,” he said smoothly, tasting the lie and not liking that he had sprouted such nonsense.
Her expression brightened. “Longbourn Park is beautiful, Your Grace. You must have missed home very much.”
