Page 52

How quickly things had changed for her, and she picked up the book in hopes that things would work out for Elinor and Marianne just as beautifully.

Enthralled by the story right as Edward enlightened Marianne that he was unmarried and how Lucy Steele had married his brother, Robert, and not him, Juliana glanced up at the quick knock at her door.

“Come in,” she answered, doing her best to keep her annoyance from her voice.

“I expected you to still be sleeping, miss. But here you are, already dressed.” Miss Price breezed into the room and stopped short at the sight of the bedclothes piled on the floor. “What happened here?”

“I—um—spilled something. Could you ask a maid to put them with the rest of the laundry?”

From Miss Price’s expression, she clearly had her doubts about Juliana’s veracity, but she nodded and gathered the linens and placed them outside the door. Hands on her hips, Miss Price scrutinized Juliana. “Allow me to dress your hair.”

Juliana had brushed it and tied it at her neck with a ribbon—the very ribbon that had fallen from Victor’s hair. “I prefer to wear it like this, Miss Price. Victor likes it down.”

A smile crossed Miss Price’s lips. “So everything is fine with your young man, then? Last evening when I prepared you for bed after the ball, you seemed preoccupied. I couldn’t help but wonder if you two had had a tiff.”

“It’s true; I was worried. But I’ve—um—realized my imagination was getting away from me.”

With a quick squeeze to Juliana’s shoulder, Miss Price said, “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Her Grace has already had breakfast and has requested to see you as soon as possible.”

Juliana’s mind reeled. What could Honoria want that was of such importance? “Is my brother with her?”

“No, miss. His Grace left the house earlier. Sad news about the king, but not surprising.”

Oh, of course. Perhaps there were some protocols she needed to learn when a monarch died and that’s what Honoria wanted. A twinge of guilt twisted in Juliana’s stomach that she’d been so happy when the country would be draped in mourning.

Unbidden, dread tripped up her spine. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Miss Price. My wedding is in two days. Will it be delayed due to the king’s death?” Goodness, what if she was with child? How long would she and Victor have to wait?

Pursing her lips, Miss Price shook her head. “I don’t know for certain. But if so, I expect you would only have to wait a few months. Now, don’t dilly-dally. Her Grace is waiting.” With that, Miss Price exited.

A few months! So much could happen in a few months. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. Would she bring more embarrassment and scandal to her family? After gathering her wits, and taking a few deep breaths, Juliana found Honoria in the morning room. “Miss Price said you wished to see me.”

Seated at the escritoire by the window, Honoria peered up and gave Juliana a soft smile. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

Goodness. How should she answer that? “Very little, I’m afraid.”

Honoria rose and moved to the sofa, patting the cushion beside her. “Come.”

When Juliana obeyed, Honoria took Juliana’s hands in hers. “Drake told me what happened in the orangery between Victor and Adalyn, and Adalyn confirmed it. It was innocent, Juliana. I encouraged Drake to speak with you last night. Did it help? Have you decided about the wedding?”

“Yes. I’ve decided to marry Victor.”

Honoria threw a hand to her heart. “Oh, thank goodness. I hope you don’t mind, but Drake told me everything. We don’t keep secrets from each other any longer. I believe with all my heart that, although it may have started as a pretense, Victor truly loves you.”

Juliana couldn’t help but smile. “He does.”

Pulling her into a hug, Honoria said, “Drake will be so pleased his talk helped.”

Juliana didn’t have the heart—or the courage—to tell her sister-in-law that, although Drake had given her much to think about, it was Victor’s bravado of stealing in through her window and his tender lovemaking that convinced her.

She pulled back. “But Honoria, will we be able to proceed with the wedding as planned because of the king’s death? We won’t have to wait, will we?”

“Not long, dear. Drake should find out some details about the funeral soon. Perhaps ten days or two weeks. I was just writing to the vicar when you came in. I wasn’t certain whether I should ask him to postpone the wedding or cancel it.”

Two weeks! Well, it was certainly better than two months.

“Don’t worry, dear. The time will pass quickly, and I’m sure Victor will call upon you every day.” Mischief twinkled in Honoria’s eyes. “We may even allow you both a little time alone together.”

Tendrils of heat crept up Juliana’s neck. Honoria had no idea that her generosity was a bit late. That horse had already left the stables.

Honoria must have interpreted Juliana’s embarrassment differently. “Has your mother explained things to you, my dear? Let me assure you, it is quite wonderful when two people love each other. Not that Victor would take advantage before your wedding.”

The heat intensified, scorching Juliana’s cheeks. “I’m aware of what happens.”

Pink bloomed on Honoria’s cheeks as well. “Good.”

Frampton arrived at the door and broke the uncomfortable moment. “Your Grace. I apologize for interrupting. I believe you should see this.”

Honoria motioned him forward and plucked the rectangular paper from the silver salver.

The Muckraker!

As Honoria scanned the contents, her hand rose to her throat. “Oh, dear.”

“What is it?” Juliana scooted closer and craned her neck to get a glimpse of the horrible scandal sheet.

“It mentions the king’s death, of course.” A frown creased Honoria’s brow. “But it says the Duke of Clarence is rumored to abdicate and refuse the crown but questions the source.”

“You’re not upset about that, are you? What else does it say?” Juliana gave a little tug to Honoria’s arm.

“There is quite a lot about last night’s ball.” Honoria’s gaze shot to Juliana, an apology lurking in the green depths of her eyes.

“Tell me.”

Nodding, Honoria read.

“Last night, the Duke of Burwood hosted an engagement ball for his sister and Mr. Victor Pratt, which proved to be most eventful. Among the guests was a Mr. Miles Grey, the proprietor of the gaming hell, The Knave of Hearts. As if the attendance of such an unsavory character wasn’t enough, it has reached this reporter’s ears that the said Mr. Grey is actually the illegitimate cousin of the duke himself!

As if the ton needed another reason to snub the upstart newcomer.

“The information about Mr. Grey was not the only on dit this reporter received. I have it on good authority from an eyewitness that Mr. Pratt was caught in flagrante delicto with another woman in the duke’s very own orangery.

One wonders if the wedding will proceed as planned.

Of course, it should be no surprise, as Mr. Pratt already compromised his intended, leading to their forced engagement.

It would appear that Mr. Pratt wishes to have his cake and eat it, too.

This reporter is curious to see if they disregard mourning etiquette and proceed with the wedding in two days. ”

Juliana balled her hands into fists on her lap. “The eyewitness mentioned has to be Lydia Whyte. But Victor doesn’t believe she’s the one responsible for the rag.”

“I would agree. Although Lydia can be a bit, shall we say, scatterbrained, I can’t imagine her being so organized to compile this—tripe.”

“But Honoria, she must either know who is responsible or she at least spread the gossip about Miles to whomever is.”

“Oh, that’s an excellent point, Juliana. Perhaps we should call a meeting of the League.”

Full of energy that amazed Juliana, Honoria jumped up and crossed to the escritoire, penning notes to Bea, Miranda, and Anne.

Alone on the sofa, Juliana gathered her racing thoughts, her gaze fixed on the discarded scandal sheet. Once again, The Muckraker had launched a vicious attack, but the League would rise to meet it. Would it be enough?

The wedding would be delayed—barely a fortnight, if they were lucky—but the damage from the gossip rag might linger longer than black crepe on a sleeve.

Still, Victor loved her. He had said so with words and proved it with action.

She touched the silky ribbon in her hair, the one that had once tied back his own, and drew in a steadying breath.

Whatever lay ahead—mourning, scandal, or delay—she would not face it alone.

And that, at last, was enough.