In the morning my eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and I stared at the mirror in frustration. “Lawks and lubbers,” I muttered just as Betsy pushed the door open. “Oh, excuse me, Betsy.” Having been raised in a household with two male cousins, I sometimes struggled to keep my language ladylike. Old habits were difficult to break—except in Aunt Agnes’s presence.
“What’s this, miss?” Betsy picked up the brush and began going through my unruly red hair with it in long strokes.
“Oh, nothing. I slept poorly is all.”
She nodded. “I’m in a bit of a hurry this morning, as your aunt wishes me to try her hair in a new fashion.”
“Of course. A simple chignon will do for today.” I was accustomed to hurrying through the process of getting ready, since Aunt Agnes was too stingy to hire me a lady’s maid of my own. I suspected she put far too much of the monthly allowance she received to care for my younger brother, Harry, and me toward her own comforts.
“How has your stay been thus far?” I asked as Betsy’s deft hands arranged my hair.
“Not as grand as yours, I’m sure, but this castle is enough to take one’s breath away. I must have gotten lost at least three times yesterday.” She grinned as though alluding to some private joke. “Though there were plenty of handsome footmen about to show me the way, and right helpful they were. The trick will be trying to keep track of them all.” She giggled. “I can’t imagine working at such a large house.”
I was tempted to ask her if they spoke of the duke belowstairs but wisely held back. No need to encourage rumors among the staff; Betsy was known for having quite a loose tongue.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of my little carved mountain goat resting on the vanity. It was a gift my father had brought me from his travels to the Continent. I reached out and picked the little goat up, examining it while Betsy finished arranging my hair. It was precious to me, the only thing I really had left of my father, and I felt a twinge of guilt remembering the heirloom I’d broken the night before.
After helping me into my gown, Betsy made a hasty exit to look after my aunt. Poor girl. I did not envy her position.
I left my room, taking my time to observe the corridors in the morning light as I passed through them. So intent was my gaze on one of the tap-estries that I almost ran into Robert outside the breakfast room. “Oh, excuse me.”
He looked away and swallowed, his posture stiff. “Pardon me, Juliet.”
A stab of pain slashed at me, for just a few weeks ago I would have told him everything and we would have unraveled last night’s odd encounter together. I ached to talk to him.
He still would not meet my gaze. “Your absence was noted last night.”
“I had one of my headaches,” I said. He knew my headaches came on when I couldn’t stand to be in his mother’s presence for another moment.
“Mother allows that to pass at home, but she will not tolerate that while we are here, among company. She won’t allow you to make a fool of her.”
Before I could respond, he pushed past me and went into the breakfast room. Dumbfounded, I stood by the door, dreading another meal of small talk among people I barely knew, with the one person who knew me best ignoring me.
Suppressing a frown, I pushed my shoulders back and followed Robert. He took a seat next to Hugh, the elder of my cousins. I perused the buffet table, piled high with eggs, toast, ham, fruit, and a dozen different pastries. The extravagance was difficult to fathom, especially compared to what I was used to at Lymington Park. After filling my plate, I took the open seat by Lady Ellen, the duke’s younger sister. Based on our brief interactions yesterday, I liked her already.
I took a moment to study her, searching for any resemblance she might share with the man I’d encountered last night. She had light-brown hair, a winsome smile, and eyes that were perhaps a little wide-set but of such a brilliant blue one barely noticed. She and the duke looked nothing alike. Indeed, had I not known the two were siblings, I would not have guessed them to be related.
“Good morning, Miss Graham,” she said, her tone cheerful and inviting. “Are you quite recovered from your headache?” Her concern seemed genuine.
I bit my cheek, grateful Aunt Agnes had made excuses for me, even if she was displeased about it. “Yes, thank you. Much better.”
“Oh good. I was disappointed we did not see you in the drawing room after dinner. I am afraid in your absence your poor cousins had to suffer through an entire hour of my playing the pianoforte.” She smiled coyly through her self-deprecation. “But I am happy to report that they endured it well.” Despite the directness of her manner, she put me at ease at once. I felt like her opposite in so many ways, yet I wondered if we might be friends; two weeks here would drag by without any female companionship.
She looked up, still speaking. “Lord Everdale and I are planning a walk through the gardens right after breakfast.”
To hear Hugh called Lord Everdale was always a surprise, for he was the boy who had teased me mercilessly the past nine years—behavior hardly befitting an earl. I glanced at him across the table. With his ruddy-cheeked grin and unruly dark hair, one could scarce imagine him marrying the younger sister of a duke.
As if he could sense my thoughts, Hugh looked up. “Juliet loves gardens, don’t you?”
I smiled through clenched teeth. “I adore them.” Nothing could be further from the truth, and we would have words later. I was not here to play chaperone in all his attempts to woo Lady Ellen. That was Aunt Agnes’s unenviable task.
Lady Ellen set her napkin on the table. “Then, it’s settled.” She turned to Robert, who had remained silent during this exchange. “Perhaps we could round it out to a foursome—would you like to join us as well, Mr. Nicholson?”
I held my breath, for I knew if Robert agreed, we would be partnered for the duration of the morning.
Hugh nodded, answering for him. “Of course he would. There’s nothing he’d like better.” Another lie. Hugh gave Lady Ellen his most charming smile, and if I could have reached, I would have kicked him under the table.
Everyone around me had already finished their breakfast, so I ate as quickly as was permitted for a lady of breeding and set my plate back, half untouched. “Shall we begin?” I asked, anxious to commence so it could be over. The morning loomed ahead, and I could only imagine how many infernal gardens a castle this size might hold.
As we exited the breakfast room, a footman approached me, a tray in hand. “There’s a letter for you, Miss Graham.”
I reached for it and smiled as I saw my name in Harry’s scrawl. It had been nearly two weeks since I’d heard from him, and I was anxious to read his missive. But with everyone waiting for me, I could hardly take the time now. I tucked it into my pocket, planning to read it as soon as I had a moment alone.