“No. Mr. White seems quite wealthy compared to the people he convinced to invest in Pomais.” Karrington stretched out his body, looking tired himself.
“Perhaps it is not as it seems.” Henry tried to convince both himself and his companions. “When I left London our coffers were full, our wealth immense. My uncle would not be such a fool.”
“Perhaps, but I have tried several times to meet with your uncle and White to discuss your family’s financial situation.”
Henry stopped his pacing and turned to face the duke. “Why would you meet with White to discuss my finances?”
“Your uncle appointed Mr. White to be your solicitor two years ago.” Karrington tilted his head at Henry.
“Bloody hell!” Henry practically shouted, his body vibrating with renewed anger.
Karrington sat forward, his blue eyes cold as they stared intently at Henry. “Heartford, I must remind you to control yourself in my home, especially when around my wife and children. I understand this news is very upsetting, but I won’t have you using that type of language. Teddy and Emily are at very impressionable ages. They repeat everything we say and do.”
It was not lost on Henry that Karrington referred to Emily as one of his children. His friend had done what Henry couldn’t, what Windchester hadn’t even bothered to do.
“Of course, I just don’t understand how this happened.” Henry rubbed a hand through his hair.
“I know, but you need to control yourself in my home.” Karrington pointed directly at him to validate his point.
Henry agreed, giving a slight nod of his head. “I’m afraid that Elijah and I will need a place to stay while I figure this all out.”
Elijah stood, shaking his head. “I would not want to impose. I can surely find my own accommodations.”
Karrington waved his protests away. “Nonsense. You both will stay here for now. I trust you, Mr. Edwards, if Heartford trusts you. We can find you both other lodgings if need be in the morning.” He turned and faced Henry, his jaw tight, his eyes unfathomable.
This was the Karrington Henry knew.
“Heartford, I must implore you to remember yourself with Lady Julia. I know you two have history, but she is under my protection and is like a sister to me. I will have your word that you will respect her.”
Henry considered those words carefully. This was his opportunity to reacquaint himself with Lady Julia. He would show her that he was a new man and not the one that left her. He knew by just one look into those frigid eyes of hers that he would have to convince her of his true intentions. He was up for the challenge.
“You have my word.”
Rumor has it that the Marquess of H is staying with the Duke and Duchess of K. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be a guest. Have you seen him? I’m sure Lady J is thrilled to live with the man who ruined her.
The dark glow of the moon was all the light Julia needed to create something—anything. She stood by her window, her hand moving furiously over the large blank paper on the easel in front of her. She clenched a well-worn piece of charcoal in her hand, not caring if she got it on her dress. Still in her lavender ball gown, Julia tried to hold onto the small bit of joy she had from the ball and her friends, Pippa and St. Clara.
After Henry left, her family had tried to have her hide away or marry the first man willing to tie himself to her, but she had refused. He had ruined her; it was all his fault she was no longer welcomed in most drawing rooms except when accompanied by her cousin. No one would dare deny the Duchess of Karrington. Yet, Julia was barely acknowledged or spoken to at these functions. It was like she was a piece of furniture, a mere object.
It was Henry’s fault she had stayed inside that first Season.
“Impertinent fool! The nerve of him showing up in my home after three damn years!” she cursed in the dark room, glad that her aunt was not around to hear her, or Livie for that matter.
Her hand slashed across the paper furiously. She didn’t know what she was creating, nor did she care. She just wanted to fight the shadows that lingered over her like a cloud of doom. Complete and utter gloom threatened to consume her, like a heavy weight demanding she give in to it, again. Like she did when her parents died, when he left her, the darkness and despair consumed and controlled her. It enveloped her like a suffocating cloud of despair, and she let it.
She would’ve stayed in her bed day and night, enjoying the gloom, but her cousin needed her. It had been a rather difficult time for Livie, who found herself a new duchess taking care of a small child while she was herself carrying. The entire family had descended on Hemsworth Place, the duke’s ancestral home, and stayed until Teddy was born. Julia found purpose with her cousin and her family. She was needed and taken seriously by Livie, Remington, and the children. Being surrounded by the happy family did something to Julia. Instead of allowing herself to go deeper into her melancholy, she had crawled out.
Yes, she had been on her hands and knees, but she had come out of that darkness and into a tiny ray of light. It was there that she remembered herself, that she picked up a brush and began painting. As a child, she constantly painted, drew, or sketched. It did not matter the tool, as long as she was creating something. She remembered drawing or painting as early as Emily’s age with such joy she thought she would burst from happiness.
After her parents passed, she locked herself away, refusing to create. The only person she had allowed near her was Livie. She was sure she never would’ve recovered if she hadn’t had the company of her dear cousin.
Even with Livie insisting they walk or play, Julia couldn’t find it in herself to do anything that had once brought her and her parents so much joy. Her father had always doted on her ability to draw, more than any of her other pursuits. Whenever she presented him with a new drawing, he would smile so wide she could put the tip of her little fingers in the dimples in his cheeks. It was like a game to them. She would draw him something and he would try to surmise what it was. She could still hear her giggles as he would name the most outrageous of things.“Oh my, what do we have here?”he would ask in that jolly voice of his.
Sometimes she could still hear him if she closed her eyes, could still feel the happiness being with both him and her mother gave her.
After his death, she had no inspiration to create. It was like something had turned itself off inside of her and she couldn’t pick up a brush or charcoal. As the years passed, she lost herself in other pursuits. Then three little lines on a tiny piece of paper changed everything.
For months, she was only a shadow of herself, a social pariah, a weak woman who had depended on a man for her happiness. There were several rather rude propositions from gentlemen, even some unwanted touches. They all thought her abandonment meant she was somehow compromised. That it was her fault her intended discarded her as if she were nothing.
