Page 45

S upper had been sheer torture. Seated next to Victor, Juliana wanted to enjoy his nearness, the gentle touch of his hand on hers, the smiles, the pleading look in his blue eyes. And yet, she couldn’t, not when she had little faith in his true affection for her.

Excited voices surrounded her in the ladies’ retiring room, and she tried desperately to block them out. A fierce debate raged in her mind. She had two choices.

Take what little Victor would offer her and be grateful for the crumbs, knowing she might never be first in his heart.

Or give him up, hoping someday she would find someone else to fill the void Victor left. And what then? Would that man be second best in her heart? How would that be fair to him?

Her Papa’s words rang in her head. Love takes no prisoners, and there are few survivors.

If no one could win, what was the point?

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her usually rational mind, the answer lurked. But she was simply too emotional to allow it to dig its way to the surface.

She wanted to give in, to say it didn’t matter.

But it did.

“Juliana?”

Juliana gazed up at the soft, feminine voice, and swallowed down the lump in her throat at the sight of Adalyn.

“May I?” Adalyn motioned to the vacant spot on the settee.

Oh, God. How could she do this now? She schooled her features and nodded.

Most of the other women were occupied in conversation, resting their feet, or having their maids repair their coiffures.

Adalyn kept her voice low. “Please allow me to explain.”

“It’s not necessary, really.”

“Oh, but it is. What happened between Victor and me was innocent, and I alone initiated it. I took Victor by complete surprise, and my only desire was to express my joy that he found someone so wonderful to share his life with.”

“Regardless of your explanation, Victor’s heart doesn’t belong to me.” Juliana fought back the tears.

Adalyn’s gaze swept the room, confirming no one was paying them heed, and she leaned closer. “You’re wrong, Juliana. And if you think his heart belongs to me, that is also untrue. Allow him to explain and tell you how he feels.”

She patted Juliana’s hand and rose. “Now, I believe I have a dance with my husband, who, for a man his size, is remarkably light on his feet.”

Could it be true? The kiss had been innocent? But even so, it didn’t mean Victor’s affections had changed.

Did it?

Wild thoughts like unruly children shouted for attention and rendered rational thinking impossible.

“Juliana,” Honoria’s voice jolted her back. “It’s time to return.” Her brow crinkled with concern. “What is it? You seemed so quiet at supper.”

Ladies made their way from the retiring room to rejoin the festivities, but if she confided in Honoria, she would lose the last bit of control she clung to with desperate fingers.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, as if that would somehow calm the nausea churning within.

“It’s nothing. Just the excitement of the evening. ”

A troubled furrow creased Honoria’s brow, and she threw Juliana a dubious glance. “Very well.”

Juliana rose and allowed Honoria to wrap an arm around her waist as they returned to the ballroom.

Across the room, Victor peered over from where he stood by Drake. As always, the mere sight of him sent her heart hammering in her chest, and she had to calibrate to his presence.

Drake peeled off and approached Honoria. Left alone, Victor froze her with his gaze, his eyes locked with hers so fiercely, she fought to pull in a breath.

“Miss Merrick?”

Juliana turned toward the masculine voice. “Mr. Grey.” She returned a curtsy to his bow.

“I believe the next dance is ours.” Out of place for such an imposing man, his gentle voice calmed her.

“Thank you again for your intervention with Lord Felix.”

“If he threatened you in any way, your brother should know. As it was, I had a few strong words with him, but it’s best to keep your distance if possible.”

As he led her to the dancefloor, she forced a wan smile and placed a hand on his arm. “Of that you need not worry. I intend to avoid Lord Felix at all costs.”

“That’s wise. Otherwise, you might end up with more than bruises on your arm.”

Her gaze darted to her upper arm where Lord Felix had dug his fingers into her flesh, finding faint purple marks forming.

“You seemed in a great hurry, although I cannot blame you. I trust all is well.”

Kindness radiated in his eyes as she craned her neck to meet his gaze. He meant well, but how could she respond when at that moment nothing was well ? “Forgive me for my rudeness in rushing off without properly thanking you earlier.”

“Think nothing of it. And forgive me if I’ve overstepped.”

During the country dance, she did her best to make polite small talk. “Have you enjoyed the evening, sir?”

A smile teased his lips. “As much as a man like me can. Your brother is most gracious, as is Her Grace. He did well in choosing her for his wife.”

“Do you know of their story, sir?”

He shook his head. “Only what I’ve read in the scandal sheets, and I don’t put much store in those rags.”

“Drake has loved Honoria for ages. Ever since he was groom for Lord Stratford when they were not much more than children. It’s rare to find such a love.”

“Indeed.” He canted his head, studying her. “It’s fortunate for them things worked out as they did, and he inherited the title. Not all are so lucky.”

Affronted, Juliana pulled back. “If you’re insinuating that Honoria only married him because he inherited, you are mistaken, sir.”

“Forgive me. I’ve overstepped yet again. I simply meant that his title makes their marriage more acceptable to society.”

She couldn’t argue his point. Wasn’t her betrothal to Victor—pretend though it was—proof of that?

At least where his mother and others were concerned?

Not all well-wishes she’d received that evening were heartfelt and genuine.

Regardless of her brother’s lofty title and position within the aristocracy, she was a commoner, and many considered her beneath Victor.

As heir to a viscountcy, Victor would be expected to take his rightful place among the ton . Would her common birth, her lack of noble blood, cause him difficulty? Would he grow to resent her?

From what she had learned about Victor, he had no great political ambition. But would that change after he inherited and was faced with the responsibilities of his title? As a young man, was it easy to defy society without understanding the stakes involved?

If he truly loved her, Juliana had little doubt their marriage could work. Together, they would face any difficulties that arose. But without love...no matter how much she loved him, if he didn’t return her love, pressure from society might be one obstacle too many.

One more argument as to why she couldn’t, in good conscience, marry Victor.

The music came to an abrupt halt, and dancers stopped mid-step on the dance floor. Everyone turned toward the orchestra on the dais, curious to see what had happened.

Solemn-faced, Drake clutched a piece of parchment in one hand as he waved the guests to silence. “My lords and ladies. I’ve just received distressing news. The king is dead.”

Hushed murmurs traveled through the throng as people digested the news.

Next to Juliana, Mr. Grey stood motionless, his face unreadable.

Although the king, who many had only thought of as Prinny, was not well loved, he had still been their king.

Some gasped, hands over their mouths, while others seemed to accept the news as unremarkable. Lord Middlebury waddled over to Lord Felix and muttered something in his ear.

Drake held up his hands again. “As much as it pains me, I suggest everyone return home to mourn our sovereign in private. I thank you all for coming. I wish this evening had not ended on such a sad note. May our new king live long and prosper. Long live the king.”

“Long live the king,” the crowd replied.

In hushed silence, the crowd dispersed, and Juliana’s gaze landed on Victor.

As selfish as it was, she was grateful the sad news had put an end to the evening.

Selfishly, Victor silently thanked Prinny for putting an end to the evening.

What had started as a joyful celebration had turned maudlin in so many respects.

He needed to speak with Juliana alone, and he’d had little hope of doing so among the throng of people.

With a quick word to his parents, he instructed them to go home without him. He would hire a hackney.

Across the ballroom, Juliana stood next to Mr. Grey, her face—like most—a mask of disbelief and sadness.

The question was: did Juliana mourn the king or was Victor responsible for her distress? He refused to examine it further, for deep inside, he knew the answer.

When she turned to look at him, their eyes locked. He stood rooted in place, his mind begging his feet to move. Slowly, as the crowd thinned, he took the first laboring steps, his legs leaden. One opportunity to convince Juliana he truly cared and wished to proceed with their marriage awaited him.

He could not bungle it.

Mr. Grey remained staunchly at her side like a bulwark impeding Victor’s progress.

“Might I have a private word with Miss Merrick, Mr. Grey?”

The giant of a man quirked an eyebrow at Juliana. “You should tell him about the incident in the hallway.”

After that enigmatic comment, Mr. Grey bowed to Juliana, gave Victor a nod, then left.

Victor frowned. “What incident in the hallway? What is he talking about?”

“Miss Whyte wasn’t the only one to see you and Adalyn together. When I was on my way to meet you, Lord Felix stopped me in the hallway to tell me about it. I didn’t want to believe it, and we argued.”

Fear gripped Victor, and his head pounded. His gaze dropped to where Juliana hugged herself, covering her arm. As gently as he could, he tugged her hand away, revealing distinct fingerprints. Fear morphed into rage, and the pounding in his head worsened. “I will kill him.”