And slowly, he would win her back.
“We’re leaving in a few days,” Amelia told Juliette. “Mother is staying behind to see if anything can be saved from the house. We’ll stay with Aunt Charlotte instead of at the town house, since Mother won’t be with us.”
The mention of Charlotte made Juliette’s spirits lift, for she was eager to see Matthew again. Perhaps this time, her son would begin crawling. Simply the thought of his smile and belly laugh made her eager to return. It was the one bright moment in the shadows of the tragedy.
“I’m glad of it,” she remarked.
“And she said we can continue our sewing.” Amelia beamed at the idea, as if she’d thought of it first. Juliette didn’t bother to correct her. “The crofters have continued working on the garments, and we’ll take them with us to sell.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, Amelia added, “Perhaps we could trade the undergarments Victoria made, in return for new gowns.”
“We can’t. Mr. Sinclair has to be the one to sell the garments. No one can know that we created the corsets and chemises,” she chided. “It has to remain a secret.”
Amelia’s mood faded. “I suppose.” She appeared disappointed in the need for secrecy. But then, her sister underestimated how important it was to maintain respectability.
The kitten Paul had given her, which Juliette had named Dragon, meowed, nudging her legs before he flopped down and waited for her to stroke his ears. Juliette sat upon the floor, obliging the animal. “The duke promised our mother that you and Margaret could have a Season this spring. You’ll need many gowns for it,” she said.
Amelia came to sit beside her on the floor. “And what about you?”
Juliette drew up her knees beneath her gown. “I’ve no desire for a Season at all. I’d rather remain unmarried. I’ll handle the accounts for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables and be contented with the work.”
Her sister stared at her with dismay. “But you can’t, Juliette. That would be unbearably lonely.”
“I like adding sums and making money,” she countered. “There’s nothing lonely about it.”
The lie slipped easily from her lips, and she added, “Besides, I don’t need a marriage to be happy. I’ll have my independence and can go as I please. Perhaps one day I’ll have a home of my own and a companion when I’m old.”
“Or perhaps you’d rather marry Dr. Fraser,” her sister interjected. “He’s quite handsome. And he did bring you a kitten.”
Juliette shook her head in exasperation. “Don’t be ridiculous.” As if a kitten would change her mind about men. Even so, her face reddened at the mention of Paul.
Spinsterhood was good, she told herself. There was never a danger of any man touching her again.
But abruptly, Amelia stopped and stared at her for a long moment. Her sister frowned, her eyes discerning. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. I know you slipped out to see him twice already.”
Clearly younger sisters made the best spies. Juliette’s face flamed, but she waved a hand. “It was just a harmless infatuation when we were younger, that’s all. We’re friends, and I’ve hardly seen him in five years. We talked about nothing, really.”
“No.” Amelia’s gaze sharpened. “It’s much more than that.” She studied her, as if she could see through her to the silent pain within. For a moment, fear slid over Juliette that her sister suspected more than she’d let on.
It didn’t matter what her past feelings had been. What mattered was the future—one without Paul. She ignored the bittersweet pang of loss, for she’d never had him to begin with.
“My past has nothing to do with you or your own future marriage,” she said brightly, steering Amelia to a different topic. “Was there a gentleman who caught your eye when we were in London for Christmas?”
“Stop trying to change the subject.” Amelia picked up the kitten, which had fallen asleep. “When we were there last, you never seemed interested in any of the parties.”
“Don’t be silly. Even if I didn’t want a husband, of course I was interested in the parties.”
Lies. All lies. She’d spent every possible moment with Matthew, rocking him to sleep, shaking a rattle to make him laugh. She could have cared less about leaving her aunt’s town house to be paraded about as a potential marriage candidate.
Her sister let out a sigh. “You might have been interested in the color of the drapes. But certainly none of the men.” She flopped down on the bed. “If you truly do love Dr. Fraser, I don’t see why you shouldn’t marry him.”
“I don’t love him, as I said before,” Juliette said. “And besides, our parents wouldn’t approve. He has no title.”
“Father wasn’t a baron until he inherited his title over a year ago from our uncle,” Amelia pointed out. “And even now, I doubt if we could attract any gentlemen at all. I’m too young, Margaret is too fastidious, and you’re too melancholy. You remind me of that glum lord, the Earl of what’s-his-dom.”
“Castledon,” Juliette corrected.
“Yes, him. The pair of you would be perfectly suited, with the way you hardly ever smile or make merry.”
Had she truly been that bad? Juliette picked up a pillow and swatted her sister. “I do smile sometimes.”
“Not often.” Amelia snatched a larger pillow and buffeted her in return.
“Are you trying to beat me into a smile?” she teased. “When we attend parties, will you strike me with your fan if I don’t smile?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Amelia mused. “Though I imagine you’d be black and blue for a while.”
Juliette couldn’t help but laugh as her sister went on the attack, using the pillow as if it were a bludgeon. “Stop it, Amelia.” Eventually, she tripped and fell upon the bed, laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
When was the last time they had behaved like children? She could hardly remember. But it did feel good to laugh, after so long.
“There now. Promise me you’ll find something to make you smile. Every day,” Amelia ordered.
“I promise.” Juliette repinned her hair, but before they could go downstairs, her sister blocked her way.
“And promise me something else. If you do love Paul Fraser and you want him for your husband, for Heaven’s sake, let the man compromise you. Then our parents will have to say yes.”
Juliette was left with her mouth hanging open as her sister led the way downstairs.
“My lord, the house burned down.”
Never were there more welcome words to Brandon Carlisle, the Earl of Strathland. The crofters had relocated to Eiloch Hill, and the Andrews family was left with no choice but to return to London. “Good. Make them an offer for the land.”
Now was the time to take advantage of their misfortune. They had lost everything, and when he offered them a reasonable sum for the land, they would readily accept. He had no doubt of it.
“They’ve refused all of our offers in the past,” Melford reminded him. “I doubt that will change.”
“You’re wrong.” Brandon lifted a hand, dismissing his factor’s prediction. This time, Lady Lanfordshire had no choice. He’d watched over the years as their staff had diminished, until now they had only a housekeeper and a footman. Colonel Lord Lanfordshire still had not returned from the battleground, and there was no way of knowing if the man ever would.
It irritated Brandon that he’d given them so many opportunities to end their poverty. He’d even offered to wed one of their daughters, which would allow their future children to inherit. But Lady Lanfordshire had continued to make excuses, despite the fact that their money was running out.
And Juliette had refused him.
His blood raged at the thought of it. Marriage to a man of his status was a privilege she ought to be begging him for. He wanted her, and he had a title far more important than her father’s. Didn’t she understand what an honor it was that he would even consider her as a wife?
Juliette had been such a fetching th
ing, young and innocent with the swell of womanhood upon her. At the memory, he shifted in his seat. He still relished the moment when he’d held her down, overpowering her until she was forced to accept his body inside hers. Her cries of pain had excited him, and it aroused him just to remember it.
He could have any woman of his choosing, but he wanted a quietly obedient woman. One who knew her place. One who recognized that he was worth more than a thousand Highlanders.
When Juliette had rejected his proposal, he’d had no choice but to punish her. She should have been honored to have his attentions. And after he’d compromised her, her family should have forced her to wed him.
Instead, she’d hidden herself away with her aunt’s family. It was impossible to demand marriage of her when she’d simply disappeared. But now that Juliette had returned, there was time to pursue her once more.
He was the Earl of Strathland, and his fortune would only grow larger as he increased his wool empire. He could have any wife he wanted.
And he intended to have Juliette.
Brandon smiled to himself. She would quickly learn that he was not a man to give up. There were ways to ensure her agreement to a marriage, and he had little doubt that her family would agree to the match.
Especially now that they had hardly anything at all.
Chapter Four
LONDON, TWO WEEKS LATER
“Are you truly making another list?” Amelia stopped her pacing to peer over Margaret’s shoulder. “You’ve met all of these men before. Haven’t you decided yet?” Personally, Amelia couldn’t believe a list was even necessary. Either you liked a gentleman or you didn’t. She knew which gentlemen she preferred, but the chance of those men remaining unwed in the next two years was unlikely. Sometimes being sixteen was unbearable. But at least it was better than being twenty and unwed, like Margaret.
Her sister dipped her pen in an inkwell and continued numbering down the page. “Some of the men had problems. For example, Viscount Lisford has been known to frequent White’s on a regular basis.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Most men do.” Playing cards at White’s was hardly a reason to drop the man to a lower rank upon the list, though Amelia secretly believed the viscount was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Thank goodness Margaret didn’t want him.
“If he plays cards frequently, then he is more likely to fall into debt. As our uncle did,” she warned. “Or perhaps he is already indebted and is trying to recoup his losses. Either way, he is not a good candidate for marriage.”
“I know who you want,” Amelia said. “A foreign prince with enough money to give you a palace dipped in gold.”
Her sister sighed. “No, I don’t want that. But I do want a man who is polite and well-bred.”
“A boring man, you mean.”
“A proper man.” Margaret set her pen down and eyed Amelia. “You ought to be considering the same.” She smiled and added, “Remember, His Grace is going to give us all a Season, and we’re to be presented at court.”
Personally, Amelia had no desire to curtsy before royalty. She’d likely trip over her train and fall flat on her face. But she did want to marry well, and so she’d suffer through it.
Flopping back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling. “I suppose you’re happy the house burned down. Now we have to live in London until it’s rebuilt.”
Margaret set down her pen. “What a horrid thing to say. Of course I’m upset that we lost the house. But I’ll confess, I am glad that we’ll be here for the new Season. And I’m grateful to His Grace, the Duke of Worthingstone, for his generosity.”
“You’re jealous of Victoria, too,” Amelia chided. “Because she had a duke dropped on her doorstep.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite pleased for her. I’m not at all jealous of her good fortune.”
That was the answer her sister would continue to give, Amelia knew. “I want a husband who adores me,” she pronounced. “His title doesn’t matter. But if you don’t want the viscount, I shall flirt with him.”
“Amelia,” Margaret warned, “if you’re too impulsive, you could make costly mistakes. If you associate with the wrong man, your reputation will suffer.”
“You’re just afraid I’ll marry before you will. I might,” she said, unable to resist teasing her sister. “Even Juliette could. Dr. Fraser loves her and wants to marry her.”
“But he’s a physician.” Margaret shuddered. “She can’t marry him.”
“It’s not as if she’s running away with a peddler.” Personally, Amelia thought Dr. Fraser was perfect for her sister.
“I worry about her,” Margaret admitted. “She refuses to dance with any of the men and seems quite content to be a wallflower.”
“Because she wants Dr. Fraser.” Of that, Amelia was certain.
“She’s changed, ever since she went away with Aunt Charlotte.” Margaret stood and went to stand by the window. “But every time I ask her, she refuses to say a word of it.”
“She’s been pining for the doctor, ever since he left for Edinburgh. And he asked her to marry him in one of his letters.”
“He did not!” Margaret’s mouth dropped open. “How would you even know such a thing? Did you read Juliette’s letters without her permission?”
“Of course I did.” And she didn’t feel one bit guilty over it. How else was she to know what was going on? Dropping her voice to a hushed whisper, Amelia added, “Juliette might have asked Mother for permission. And of course, she would say no.”
The idea of a forbidden love fascinated her. Although she’d never played the role of matchmaker, she honestly did believe Juliette would be happiest with the doctor. He might be a rough Highlander, but he was terribly handsome.
The only problem was that it would be impossible for her sister to be with Dr. Fraser if they were separated by hundreds of miles. He needed to be here, in London, so that Juliette would see that they were meant to be together.
“Did she ever ask Mother for permission?” Margaret prompted.
“How should I know? I’m only guessing.”
Margaret rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Because you’re an insufferable busybody who eavesdrops on everyone.”
“Well, not this time.” An idea took root in Amelia’s mind, evolving into a plan. She smiled and added to her sister, “I wonder if Juliette’s been waiting to elope with him, now that he has his physician’s license. Maybe that’s why she refuses to consider anyone else.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a child, Amelia.”
“Don’t be such a spinster, Margaret.”
The S-word was enough to send her sister into a fury. Margaret ran toward her, but Amelia ducked and went to snatch her sister’s list off the writing desk. “The Earl of Castledon? Honestly, Margaret, he has the personality of a handkerchief.”
“A handkerchief hasn’t got a personality, ninny.”
“Exactly.”
Margaret lunged for the paper, but Amelia dodged her, running away. As she started to read the second name on the list, the door opened and Juliette entered. She was carrying their young cousin Matthew in her arms, gently bouncing him as she walked.
“What are you doing?” Juliette asked, touching the baby’s hair.
“Tormenting Margaret,” Amelia admitted. “I have her list.”
Judging by her reddened eyes, Juliette had been crying again—and Amelia had had her fill of it. She spent all of her time playing with Aunt Charlotte’s son instead of seeking a husband. If she enjoyed children that much, Amelia believed her sister ought to make a genuine effort at marrying and starting her own family. Whether her sister was grieving over Paul Fraser or crying for another reason, it was time to end it.
“I think we should have a Sisters’ Meeting,” Amelia announced. “Take the baby back to his nurse, Juliette, and we’ll talk.”
“Matthew can stay. It’s not as if he’s planning to tell our secrets.” She kissed the baby and cudd
led him closer. “That is, if you’re planning to share any.”
Amelia went to the bedroom door and turned the key. “All right, he can stay. I suppose he doesn’t talk yet, so it’s all right.” She sat down on the bed and patted the space beside her. “We need to discuss men.”
Her older sisters exchanged embarrassed looks, but that wasn’t about to deter Amelia. “We can’t all want to marry the same bachelors,” she pointed out. “If we pick the same one, we cannot let it come between us.”
“You choose third, Amelia,” Margaret said. “I’m the eldest and therefore deserve to choose first.”
“She’ll choose second,” Juliette corrected. “I’m not planning to choose.”
Margaret shook her head. “You keep saying that. I don’t believe for a moment that you want to be a spinster.”
“Well, I do.”
Amelia, strongly suspecting it was a lie, exchanged a look with Margaret. “What about Dr. Fraser? He loves you; anyone can see that.” And you love him back, she almost said.
“He’s a good man,” Juliette admitted, “but as I said, I don’t intend to marry anyone.”
“Give it a chance,” Margaret urged. “Aunt Charlotte and Mother are doing their best to find appropriate husbands for us. And you’re not even trying.”
Juliette stared at both of them. “Why must every woman marry? Does she really have to have a man to be happy?”
Amelia was shocked at the edge of anger in her sister’s voice. She’d never heard Juliette this upset, but her sister stood and regarded both of them. “I’ve made my choices, and marriage isn’t one of them. I never intend to let a man control me, nor will I ever bear children.”
Margaret was staring at her sister as if she’d just announced her decision to join a convent. “But why?”
Juliette gathered her composure and spoke in a calmer voice. “One of us has to continue Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, since Victoria is now a duchess. Our family needs the money more than ever, especially after the house burned down. Since Victoria can no longer run the business, I shall do so.”
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