“I am after all, in love with Juliana.”
Patience shot up from her seat, her mouth dropping open. Her voice became high pitched, and for a moment Peter thought she might jump up and down in excitement. “I knew you had to love her!”
Peter smiled at her sudden change in mood. At least this had brought her spirits back. “I have no idea of her feelings; do you suppose she could actually love me back?”
The door to the sitting room barged open, and Mrs. Hawthorne marched through. “In love with another?” she asked with a shrill cry. “Lord Seton, you’ve become attached to someone other than our daughter?” The incredulity in her voice made his heart plummet into his stomach.
Patience deflated again.
He should have suspected Mrs. Hawthorne was eavesdropping at the door. He cleared his throat, though he knew nothing could change the awkwardness of this situation.
As he opened his mouth to try and save what was left of his dignity, Patience stepped in, a defiant ring in her voice. “Mother, Peter was never attached to me. We set this up so he could enjoy some peace, and you would get off my back about finding someone more suitable. Peter loves Miss Gibbon and I love Walter Longman. Nothing you can say will change that fact!”
“I don’t care who loves whom,” Mrs. Hawthorne snapped.
Mr. Hawthorne peeked his head inside the room, sensing the rising conflict. He must not have been eavesdropping with his wife.
Patients’ mother puffed herself up. “Lord Seton asked us if he could court you, and I consider it a breach of contract that he wishes to offer for another without consulting us.”
“Mother, I never had any intention of marrying Lord Seton.” Patience drew herself up to her full height. “If he had made me an offer, I would have refused it.”
Mrs. Hawthorne huffed. “And I would have forced it upon you! Now close your mouth, I don’t need any more explanations from you. I want to hear Lord Seton come to his own defense.”
Patience glared at her mother and Mr. Hawthorne turned his eyes to Peter as if he were a spectacle in a show. Peter squirmed inside. He was not at all prepared to handle this sort of situation.
“Mrs. Hawthorne,” he said slowly. “I had no intention of offending you. Please forgive me. I understand now that our scheme was insensitive. I’m sorry for toying with your feelings. I am deeply sorry that I have harmed your trust in me.”
Mrs. Hawthorne scowled at him. “This is unacceptable. I demand that you wait until we get this situation settled, before speaking to Miss Gibbon.”
“Mother, stop it,” Patience snapped. “You are being ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous?” Mrs. Hawthorne turned to her husband in disbelief. “Mr. Hawthorne remained emotionless, watching the drama unfold from the door. “Mr. Hawthorne tell Lord Seton that he must retract his offer. Demand it of him.”
Mr. Hawthorne’s eyes flicked to Peter’s. Conflict boiled behind his eyes—the fear of refusing his wife and the fear of making confrontation with an earl. Peter felt some sympathy for the man.
Mr. Hawthorne shuffled heavily from one foot to the other before moving into the room. “Lord Seton,” he paused, clearing his throat. “We are very discouraged that you agreed to this foolhardy endeavor, causing my wife great pain. However,” he said with a hesitant glance at his wife, “it is not my place to demand anything of you. Just know that you have indeed lost our trust, and we no longer consider you a respectable man.”
Mrs. Hawthorne’s chest blossomed red, but she did not argue with her husband. She turned her glare on Peter.
“I understand,” Peter said with a bow. “My hope is to one day regain your respect and trust. I am deeply sorry. To show how much I value you and your daughter, I extend the offer for you to stay at Alder Court whenever you like, for however long. You will be most welcome.”
Mrs. Hawthorne did not seem satisfied with his answer, but Mr. Hawthorne nodded.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Hawthorne said through tight lips. She gestured toward the door. “Now, if you will excuse us, we will be leaving for home tomorrow. Patience, we’re ending your season early.”
Patience’s eyes widened. “Mother, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can,” she snapped. “Get your things together. I don’t know why you’re so insistent on Walter Longman, but you will not be permitted to see him ever again!”
Tears welled up in Patience’ eyes.
He longed to comfort her, but there was little he could say or do. It was out of his hands now.
He bowed to Mrs. Hawthorne. “Forgive me,” he muttered, before leaving. His heart suddenly heavy.
Chapter Eighteen
Juliana made herself scarce, hiding away in her bedroom claiming she felt ill and reading until she thought she would go mad. She could not concentrate on the words. Every time she tried; an image of that foul man would pop into her mind. If Peter had not saved them, she would be unreachable from anyone of good society. She did not even want to consider what that would have done to her father. He was right to have denied her London for so long. Now, Peter would tell him of her shame, and she would be ruined in his eyes. Peter was already lost to her; she thought her heart would break. She would witness his happiness whilst her own would be lost forever.
After counting the rose petals on her canopy for a half an hour, she felt restless. Her Uncle had not yet called her down which meant he did not know anything as of yet. There was nothing for her to do, but to take courage and go to her aunt.
She ventured out of her room, quietly poking her head in the drawing room. It lay empty so she slipped in, sitting in a large winged back chair. After five minutes of solitude, she decided to try her hand at painting to keep her mind occupied. It had worked for Peter’s mother. Juliana was nowhere as good as the new dowager, but it did the trick.
After adding a terribly lopsided boat to her river, she wondered how Patience fared. She must be as miserable as she, knowing Walter might have sent her to such a place. She could not bring herself to believe it was from him.
She dipped her brush into some water, splashing it around to clear the paint, then placed it onto a towel to try. Just as she was about to find her Aunt, the door flew open, and Peter marched into the room.
Juliana stepped back, her mouth dropping in surprise. “Peter!” She didn’t know what to make of his sudden entrance. She took her eyes to the cracked door, then back to him. Her throat going dry. This was a miserable way to great her friend.
He stood awkwardly by the front of the door, not answering her exclamation. He clutched at his hat, his back stiff.
Her heart sank. She did not know this awkward Peter. She opened her mouth to try to salvage what was left of their relationship, only to be interrupted by him.
“I cannot banish you from my mind,” he said in a rush, moving closer to her. “After the events of the other evening—Juliana, how are you faring?”
She jumped back at his sudden deceleration, not knowing what to make of it. She pressed her lips together, thinking carefully about her answer. “Well enough, I suppose. How is Patience? I have not been a diligent friend in checking up with her.”
He averted his eyes, locking onto her painting.
“Are you painting?” His familiar smile touched his lips.
Juliana set her hands protectively on top of the small canvas. “I beg you not to look. Your mother would be ashamed.”
A glint lit in Peter’s eyes. “Well, now I’m curious.”
“Peter—”
Not heeding her protests, he walked around to stand beside her, his eyes taking in her river painting. He nodded, his smile stretching in the silence as he judged her poor attempt at painting. “Hmm. Clever use of color there.” He pointed at the red roses that would never be found on a riverbank.
Juliana shook her head, biting down on her inner cheek. She looked to him deflated, she couldn’t even paint properly. “The water looks as if it is boiling.”
Peter laughed. She just
shifted. They eventually settled into an awkward silence.
Juliana sensed something, some kind of tension coming off him in droves. She shifted awkwardly again, finally sitting down. “Would you like to sit?”
He obliged, taking the armchair across from her. He cleared his throat, leaning forward, on edge. “Mr. Walter Longman did not write the letter,” he blurted. “I checked with him. The handwriting is vastly different.”
Juliana widened her eyes. “Then who is the culprit?”
“I’m working on discovering that.”
“How did he take the news that Patience is not courting you?”
His eyes locked on hers and she gulped at the sadness she saw there. “He would not give me the chance to explain. Though he will find out soon enough.”
Her heart dropped for her friend. “Does she know yet?”
“Yes, I just came from her residence. And, I, well—” he could not seem to get the words out and Juliana’s heart throbbed thinking that he would be forced to marry Patience. Had he turned his affections to her—Juliana could hardly bear the thought.
“Has Patience caught your affection? Is that why you are unable to tell me the rest of your news?” Juliana pasted on a pleased smile, determined not to show Peter her heart was breaking. She deserved every bit of it, and Patience deserved to be happy. Peter would make any woman a wonderful husband.
Peter shifted in his seat. She’d never seen him so agitated. “No.” Peter cleared his throat. “I mean to say—I am afraid our scheme did not turn out as well as we hoped. Patience is being forced back to the country. Her mother is determined she forget about her Mr. Longman. I am afraid we will not be seeing her for a while yet.”
Juliana frowned, gulping back the lump that had lodged in her throat. “This is all my fault,” she whispered. Peter did not deny her statement. “Is there anything we can do to fix any of this?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Juliana, please get it out of your head to try and fix your messes. It is too late for all of that. Anything you do will only make matters worse.”
She nodded her head. “You are right. I have learned my lesson. I just wish I had an excuse to run back to the country.”
“I am returning as soon as I can close up my townhouse. If I could take you with me, I would. But I’m afraid that would cause more gossip. Besides, you have your Mr. Westcott to cheer you. But before I go—” He locked eyes with hers, seeming to look into her soul. “Juliana. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”
Juliana blinked in surprise at his questions. She squared her shoulders. “You act as if I’m suffering an illness.”
He clapped his hands together. One leg bounced. “Tell me something,” he finally said, leveling her with a blue-eyed stare again. “How involved are you with Mr. Westcott? Really and truly I mean.”
Peter was full of surprising questions today. “I do believe he nearly made an offer at the last ball.” She gulped.
“Ah.” Peter looked away. “And—would you have accepted?”
Juliana faltered. “I—I don’t know.” She would not let Peter know her true answer. She could not bear knowing he wished to pawn her off on another.
Peter was back on his feet. He clutched at his hat, twisting it in his fingers. “Juliana—you must know. You must have some inclination about my feelings for you.”
Her lips parted, stunned at his words. She felt her heart thud against her breast. Could he possibly?
He pressed on. “I’ve always viewed you as a little sister. But—I cannot stop thinking of you. Your laugh makes my heart race. I long to be near you. I—I love—” He stopped. “But—if your feelings aren’t aligned with mine, I understand. Westcott will make a fine husband if that is who you want.”
Juliana couldn’t tear her gaze from Peter, as the enormity of what he’d just said sank in. Her heart lightened and a giddy sensation started to replace her sorrow. The lump still clung in her throat, but she forced it down as she tried to control her emotions. She covered her mouth with her hands to stop a happy outburst.
Peter frowned, cocking his head. “Are you laughing at me?” His eyes narrowed in exasperation, frustration lurking behind his eyes.
She shook her head, removing her hands from her mouth. “I do not want Mr. Westcott.” She had to choke out her words as she stood, stepping so close to him that she could see the specks of blue in his eyes.
Peter’s lips parted, but he didn’t utter a word. His eyes were intent on hers.
She took a deep breath. “I may not have realized it.” Her words were slow and deliberate. “But my heart belongs to you. It always has.”
Peter let out his long held breath, stepping closer still, leaving not even room for a feather to pass in between them. She caught the scent of his breath, peppermint candy, he had not changed. She wanted to smile at the thought, but she gulped instead, not knowing what to do next. He finally broke the silence. “Will you be my wife? I want to love and cherish you always.” His words were but a whisper.
A tear slipped from her eyes before she could answer. “Peter,” she breathed, “nothing would give me greater pleasure.” She leaned into him, tilting her lips to his.
He cleared his throat, backing away slightly. She looked at him in confusion. Had she just imagined the conversation? She cleared her throat, looking at the floor.
“Juliana.” He took her hand, stroking the top with his thumb. “I need to ask for permission from your father first.”
She shot her eyes to Peter, her full smile stretching. “Since when have I ever stood on conventions?” Before he could answer, she pulled her hand from his, twisting one arm around his neck, her other hand fanning through his perfect hair. She pulled his face to hers, their lips inches apart. His eyes were startled for a brief moment before his smile appeared and he quickly closed what little space was left. Her first kiss was not gentle. His lips commanded attention, possessing hers with a fierceness she was not expecting. His arm was around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. The closer he was, the more right this felt. Her heart thudded in her chest, but not in pain as she would have expected. In sheer pleasure, dancing in blissful rhythm.
Peter groaned, clenching at the back of her dress, before pulling away slowly. She moved with him, capturing his lips again, not wanting this to end. That seemed to spark him to life again. Even as he fought the pull of her lips, he took what she offered with one last flame. He wove a hand into her curls, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her further into his embrace, just as he had the day of his father’s death. Only this time her heart leapt with joy instead of sorrow. Peter wrenched away, putting some much-needed space between them. He closed his eyes as he rested one hand on the mantel.
***
Peter’s breathing slowed as he fought to gain control. Once he could no longer hear the beat of his heart thrumming through his eardrums, he opened his eyes. Juliana stood before him; her eyes wide in concern. As he took in the length of her body, she brought her hand to her arm, stroking its span between her shoulder and elbow. Her lips plump from his kiss.
He gave her a week smile. “You need to fix your hair before your uncle sees you. You look an awful mess.”
Juliana smiled as her fingers went to her hair, catching the tendrils that had escaped at his savage touch. She tucked them back in place as much as she could.
He knew keeping his teasing light would open Juliana back up. Reassure her she did nothing wrong. That was all on him. He should have given her a gentle kiss, then be on his way. But even before their lips touched, he knew that would not be possible. He had been wanting Juliana for too long while knowing she would never be his. As realization hit that her heart was his, well it had not been the best combination to keep his will in check.
“How do I look?” She seemed unsure.
“Like an angel.”
Her face broke into a smile that could chase away every gloomy thought and she jumped suddenly into his arms. He wrapped his ar
m around her waist as warmth enveloped him like a summer’s rain. She did not try to kiss him again, but her closeness had the same effect. His heart lept and he had to work hard at not kissing her again.
He backed away slowly, taking her hand and guiding her back to the sofa. She sat, waiting expectantly for him to give her the full news.
Peter sat next to her, taking her hand in his. “I think I will stay in London after all. I still need to get to the bottom of the letter.”
Juliana narrowed her brow at him. “Who do you think it could be from and how will you find out?”
“I do not know. But I shall think of something. I cannot stand the thought that you could be in danger because of me.”
Juliana looked confused at his response. “It is dear Patience that is in danger, and she is taken away?”
Peter shook his head. “I think the letter might have been to injure me. Think on it. If someone thought I was courting Patience, what better way to hurt me than to take away the woman I love?” His eyes darkened. “If they had succeeded, they would have truly hit their mark, for if any harm ever came to you, I do not know what I would do.”
Juliana placed her hand to his cheek. “You came just in time. And I have faith that you will find the culprit.”
“I hope you are right.”
She smiled. “Are you going to Lady Wellington’s ball tomorrow?”
“How can I miss it when you will be there.” He took her hand in his, missing her touch.
“I expect to dance every dance with you.”
“Do you not think that is a bad idea. I do not want anyone to know of our engagement until we can get to the bottom of the mystery.” He wanted to for sure, but he also could not stand the thought of her being in danger again.
“If we announce it, we might be able to flush them out.” A twinkle lit her eyes.
“Do not give me that look. I know it means you mean to be in the thick of things and I will not risk you again.”
He hoped the worry he could not keep from his voice caused her to rethink her new position. As his intended, she would become the new target.
A Friendly Alliance (Heirs of Berkshire, #1) Page 12
