Unwilling to encourage any talk of courtship when the whole ordeal felt overwhelming and futile, she said, “I believe a similar kind of joy can be found in achieving one’s goals.”
Amelia and Gabriella shared a dubious look. “Doing so can be rewarding,” Amelia agreed, “but it will not satisfy your soul in quite the same way.”
“I suppose I shall have to take your word on that. But since I have no romantic feelings for any gentleman—”
“Are you sure about that?” Gabriella asked. “Considering Lord Yates’s attentions, among others . . .” Her words trailed off as she glanced toward Amelia. “Never mind. You were saying?”
Taking the chance to avoid discussing potential suitors, Juliette spoke without hesitation. “Are you aware of the typhus outbreak in St. Giles?”
“Yes. I read about it in the newspaper this morning,” Amelia said. “Thomas has suggested we close the school until further notice in order to stop contagion since it is located on the edge of St. Giles.”
“That does make sense,” Gabriella said. “The last thing you want is to get sick and then infect your own family.”
“I still worry about the children,” Amelia confessed. “If they are not in school they will be home and more likely to get into contact with other sick individuals.”
“According to what I have read, children rarely die from the disease,” Juliette said. “Fatality is much more likely in adults.”
Both ladies stared at her. “Really?” They asked in unison.
Juliette nodded. The newspaper article had heightened her curiosity. So she’d gathered all the information she could find on the subject in the Huntley House library and had spent the entire morning reading up on it. Which had made her think. Perhaps she could use her fortune to make a lasting difference, the way Amelia had done by opening a school and the way Raphe did every day by involving himself in politics. She took another sip of her tea. “But that doesn’t mean something shouldn’t be done.”
“Well, at least the area has been closed off by the military,” Gabriella said, “but the rate at which the disease is spreading is definitely worrisome.”
“It’s gone from only one or two people to more than ten in less than a week,” Amelia said.
“Which is why I intend to offer Florian my assistance,” Juliette told them.
“You do?” Amelia asked in an odd sort of voice.
Gabriella raised an eyebrow. “This is an interesting development.”
Ignoring her, Juliette pressed on, determined to get all the facts out before she lost her courage. “I know St. Agatha’s Hospital where Florian works already provides a lot of sponsored care, but with patient numbers increasing as rapidly as they are, I’m not sure if there are enough funds to cover the extra expenses.” Even the Mayfair Chronicle had questioned this in one of its articles. “So, my intention is to help with the situation by covering the additional cost of treatment. There is no cure, mind you, but other things can be done to make the sickly more comfortable and prevent further contagion. It would be a specialized health plan of sorts, started with my donation and hopefully helped by others.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Gabriella said. “Are you considering a charity event?”
Juliette nodded. “Yes. Perhaps more than one even, depending on the response. But if I begin by donating a large sum myself, it might encourage other people to do the same.”
“How large a sum are you planning?” Amelia asked.
Juliette paused for a second before saying, “I want to do what you did and ask Raphe for an advance on my yearly allowance.”
Silence fell and then Amelia said, “That is extraordinarily generous of you, Julie.”
“I only hope it will make a difference.” Juliette set her teacup back on its saucer.
Gabriella smiled with reassurance. “How can it not?”
“Any number of things can go wrong.” Juliette chose to address the most immediate problem. “For starters, Raphe might refuse to help.”
“He wouldn’t do that.” Amelia spoke with conviction.
Juliette glanced at her sister, finding strength in her confident expression. “He intends for me to make the most of this Season.” She puffed out a breath. “I’m afraid he won’t want me to get distracted by a project this size.”
“Ensuring your future is certainly of great concern to him,” Gabriella said. “He hopes to see you comfortably settled now that there’s a chance to do so. You can’t blame him for that.”
“Of course not,” Juliette agreed, “but it honestly feels as though I’m wasting my time doing nothing. I have met every eligible gentleman in the market for a wife, have spoken to all of them at great length but cannot for the life of me envision marrying a single one.” An image of Florian’s sober gaze flashed through her mind, no doubt because she suspected he was the sort of person who could sympathize with her plight. Amelia and Gabriella on the other hand . . . how could they possibly understand when each had made a perfect love match in no time at all? “I have the opportunity to do something significant right now. Surely getting married can wait awhile?”
“I can try to speak with Raphe on your behalf, if you like,” Gabriella said, “but you should also consider that the Season is only just beginning. It’s possible a gentleman or two who had no interest in marriage last year will want to find a wife this Season. I’m afraid disengaging from the marriage mart completely would be ill advised, Julie, and something you might come to regret.”
Juliette straightened her spine. “I can still participate in some social functions.” She certainly had no desire to disappoint Amelia or Raphe or to throw away the painstaking hours Gabriella had spent on teaching her proper comportment. “But consider my perspective for a moment. I have spent most of my life being coddled by Raphe because of my weaker constitution. I was never allowed to play with other children or even to speak with them. Whenever anyone came to visit, I was asked to keep my distance. Protected from the world, I suffered extraordinary loneliness because my brother feared I might get sick and die like Bethany did.” Registering Amelia’s pained expression Juliette immediately regretted reminding her of the sister they’d lost at much too young an age. “Forgive me. I—”
“Her death was incredibly hard on Raphe, Julie,” Amelia said. “You have to understand that.”
“Of course I do. But is it fair to punish me for what happened? To deny me my freedom because of it? Am I not entitled to live my life on my own terms?” She sank back, unsure of how to continue. “I have always felt helpless, Amelia. Raphe was the one who earned a living. You made sure we were fed and that the house was kept in order. When Bethany got sick, the two of you nursed her and forced me to stay away. I have always been pushed aside or kept down on account of fear. But since coming to Mayfair, I have been healthier—stronger.”
“You caught the measles,” Amelia reminded her.
“And you probably would have too if you hadn’t already had them when you were little.” Juliette pushed out a frustrated breath. “I want to do this. I need to give my life some sort of meaning and purpose that goes beyond finding a husband. I want to accomplish something that I can be proud of and help the people who once helped us. The way you are doing with your school, Amelia.”
“You’re just as determined as I was, I think,” Amelia said with a wry smile.
Juliette sighed. “I’m just so sick of aimless strolls in the park and sipping tea for hours on end without actually accomplishing anything.” Noticing Gabriella’s pinched expression, she hastened to say, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or to imply that having tea with friends isn’t fun. It’s just—”
“I understand,” Gabriella said. “You came from nothing, have acquired great wealth and would like to put your new advantage to good use.”
“Precisely!” Juliette breathed a sigh of relief. “I know Raphe wants what’s best for me, but—”
“But what?” Raphe asked as he strode into the parlor an
d dropped into a vacant chair. “Ladies.” He greeted them all with a nod.
“You look like you had a refreshing walk,” Gabriella said, the love she felt for her husband evident in her sparkling eyes and the rosy glow of her cheeks. “How about a nice cup of tea?” She was already reaching for the pot.
Raphe studied her with great appreciation as she proceeded to pour, his gaze lingering on her for a long moment. Then he blinked, as if remembering something, and tilted his head in Juliette’s direction. “You were questioning whether I know what’s best for you?”
Trapped by her own hasty words, Juliette decided to stand her ground. “There is no doubt in my mind that you think you know what that is.”
“So I gather.” Frowning, he took the cup Gabriella offered and sipped his tea.
“It’s just, going from one ball to the other with carriage rides, social calls and shopping expeditions in between, has become incredibly tedious.”
He set his cup down and eyed her with a hint of surprise. “As I recall, you were more excited than any of us about our change in status. It was like a real-life fairy tale, you said.”
“And it was . . . is . . . but the novelty of this glamorous lifestyle has worn off a little.” She bit her lip and told him as honestly as she could and with considerable regret, “The Season has barely begun and I’m already longing for it to be over.”
Raphe studied her for a moment. “Is it Yates?”
“Of course not!”
“Because you don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to, you know. Just because he’s a friend of mine and I happen to like him doesn’t mean—”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Juliette said. “I just want to do something for myself for a change, and marrying isn’t it. I’d be doing that for you.”
“So . . .” He looked as though she was speaking a foreign language. “You don’t want to find a husband?”
“Not right now and not with the pressure of having to do so within a certain time frame.”
“Hmm . . .” Leaning forward, he laced his fingers together and rested his forearms on his thighs. “The only problem is that you will have to do so within a certain time frame, Julie. Considering your age, you have three Seasons, including this one, before you’ll be on the shelf.”
“That is true,” Gabriella interjected, “but it isn’t unheard of for matches to be made at other times of year. There are house parties and such, so perhaps she can meet her future husband at one of those.”
Raphe gave her a censorious look. “I see you’re on her side.”
“Why must there be sides, Raphe?” Amelia asked with an exasperated sigh. “We’re merely discussing the issue and taking every angle into consideration.”
He didn’t look happy about it as he gave his attention back to Juliette. “If you don’t want to enjoy the Season,” Raphe said in that resigned tone that suggested he’d given up trying to make sense of it all, “might I ask what you plan on doing with your time?”
Inhaling deeply, Juliette forged ahead. “As you know, there’s a serious outbreak of typhus in St. Giles.”
Raphe instantly stiffened. “I am not going to let you get involved with that, Julie. Not after what happened to Bethany.” His voice trembled just enough to convey the heartache he still carried with him.
Sharing his pain, Juliette leaned forward and clasped his hand. “All I ask is for an advance on my yearly allowance so I can donate the funds to St. Agatha’s Hospital. I wouldn’t be putting my life at risk in any way, Raphe. I promise.”
He hesitated, his gaze darting toward his wife before returning to Juliette. “You won’t go near St. Giles?”
“I have no reason to,” she assured him.
Raphe seemed to consider. “I commend you for your kindness, Julie, but I doubt donating your allowance and walking away will give you the satisfaction you’re seeking.” He eyed his wife before saying, “I think Gabriella might be able to advise you on how to become more involved without risking your safety.”
Gabriella gave her husband a knowing look before telling Juliette, “As a high-ranking donor, my mother has a seat on St. Agatha’s committee. There are weekly meetings during which the distribution of funds is discussed. Perhaps if you could secure a spot for yourself you would have more influence on how typhus is treated and what the funds you procure are spent on.”
Juliette blinked. “That is an excellent idea, Gabriella. I didn’t even realize such a committee existed.” She turned to Raphe. “So I have your support and permission to proceed?”
He sank back against his chair with a defeated sigh. “If it’s what you really want, then, yes, you do.”
Without thinking, Juliette flung herself into her brother’s arms and hugged him tight while startled laughter was squeezed from his chest. “Thank you, Raphe.” She closed her eyes and savored the comfort of his embrace. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
Seated behind his cluttered desk, Florian tried to concentrate on what Lady Juliette was saying. Her arrival in the office he occupied at St. Agatha’s Hospital had come as a surprise. Perfectly turned out in a dove gray gown trimmed with lilac ribbons, she’d been waiting for him when he’d returned from his rounds.
Sitting opposite him with her back perfectly straight and her chin set at precisely the right angle, she portrayed feminine comportment with extraordinary flair. Not a hint of her background could be detected by looking at her. Nor could it be heard in the soft sweetness of her voice when she spoke. One had to know she’d come from the slums of St. Giles to be aware of her meager upbringing. And now she was here, her intrusion on his private space throwing him slightly off balance.
He frowned, tried to focus, which was damnably hard when those warm brown eyes of hers were muddling his mind. The effect was not dissimilar to the one she’d had on him a week ago at the ball. Although he’d been terribly busy since then, thoughts of her had snuck their way to the front of his mind whenever he had a moment to himself.
Which was pointless of course and not at all helpful.
So he made a deliberate effort to focus on their conversation instead.
Something about raising funds to help with the typhus outbreak. It was certainly an interesting idea considering the cost of medical expenses.
“You make a generous offer. I will happily recommend it to the hospital’s benefactor on your behalf. Donations are always welcome.” He considered the graceful line of her jaw, the gentle sweep of her nose and the high cheekbones infused with a subtle blush of pink. Her complexion was flawless, her black lashes long and elegant, her lips—
“I think you misunderstand me.”
The gravity of her voice sharpened his attention. “How so?”
She shifted slightly, her gaze sliding away from his for a moment. When their eyes met again, her resolve showed in the unforgiving hardness of her stare. “I do not wish to simply make a donation.”
Confused, he darted a look at the maid Lady Juliette had brought with her. She offered no hint of what her mistress might be about to propose. So he shifted his gaze back to Lady Juliette. “The first thing you asked about when you arrived was for me to give an account of the situation in St. Giles.”
She gave a firm nod. “Yes.”
“But offering funds is not enough, is it?” He could see her eyes sharpen and knew he was on the right track. “You want to manage it—to ensure your donation is well spent, your idea executed to your liking.”
“Exactly.”
He hesitated, watching her closely while she chewed on her lower lip. “You want to be more than the average debutante.” If their previous discussions had taught him anything about her character, it was that she possessed a desire to learn and to challenge ideas.
“What I want is to stop the typhus from spreading by whatever means necessary. My intention is to save those who can be saved, not by handing over a lump sum and then retreating to my comfortable Mayfair home. That is too easy, too selfish.”
She blew out a breath. “Donating vast amounts of money to deserving causes is what rich people do to feel better about themselves. They do it because they want to help without actually helping, because it facilitates involvement at a safe distance, thus making it a selfish act of kindness.”
Florian stared at her, confounded by the astute observation of such a young woman and her cynicism. She wasn’t more than one and twenty. “Lady Juliette . . .” He wasn’t entirely sure of what to say next. So he paused, schooled his features and tried to deduce her exact intent. Eventually, he asked, “Are you saying you want to nurse the sick back to health yourself?”
A gasp from the maid underscored the impropriety of such an idea. And yet, Lady Juliette showed no hint of outrage, though she did look at him as though he’d just fallen off the back of a wagon. “Of course not. I have no experience with such things, and besides, my brother would never allow it.”
Her rebuff was so firm it almost overshadowed the relief flowing through him. Thank God he didn’t have to persuade her to stay away. Apparently she was perfectly willing to do so on her own, which was good, not only for her own safety, but because the idea of having to work with her made his heart race in the sort of way that would only be an unwelcome distraction.
“Good to know,” he muttered, sensing a need to fill the ensuing silence.
“I know the afflicted area has been closed off,” she added with an extra bit of steel in her voice. “But that will only ensure the disease doesn’t spread. It will not cure those who already suffer from it.”
“Nothing will,” Florian told her starkly. “There is no cure for typhus, my lady. Surviving it is a matter of luck.”
“Nonsense.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
The Illegitimate Duke Page 5