It was in those dismal times when she clung to her cousin and her husband. The duke had confronted several men about their behavior after learning about it from his wife. It was hard to be angry at Livie for informing him. She only had Julia’s best interests at heart. In the end, Julia was glad for them, because she knew she did not have to accept mistreatment from anyone.
Over the years, she realized what was done to her wasn’t her fault at all. The fault was his. Henry was the one who had abandoned her, and for what? She hadn’t the slightest idea, really. For months, she blamed his sister for Henry’s leaving, as if it was Amelia’s fault she was kidnapped and murdered. But at the time, Julia had only cared for her own suffering.
Yes, she was selfish. She blamed a dead woman for claiming her one chance at happiness, at love. Whenever the thought crossed her mind, she would take one look at Emily, and guilt consumed her. Because that perfect, precious little girl would never know her real mother.
Her hands stilled. Her gaze locked momentarily on her creation—eyes. The same eyes that destroyed her. Without thinking, she flung the paper aside, letting it hit the ground before she began on another blank sheet. She kept them stacked on the easel so she could create whenever the need overtook her.
The room resembled a small art studio rather than a lady’s boudoir. One side of the room was covered in canvases, both small and large, painted and bare. Her supplies took up an entire wall—brushes, paints, charcoal, graphite, and even black conté crayons. The small case of art supplies by her bed, the easel full of paper, and a sketchbook were all at her disposal for whenever the darkness threatened to take over.
Drawing and painting were the lights that saved her from herself. When her parents died, she didn’t want that light without them, but after Henry left her, she craved it. Needed it, if only just a tiny ray. Anything was better than the emptiness.
“Are you all right?” Livie’s mellifluous voice called from behind her before her hand could make another broad stroke of anger.
“I’m fine,” she spat out, not turning around. She could hear the whoosh of Livie’s skirts as she made her way across the room.
“Is that why you are snapping at me?” Livie came and stood beside her, arms crossed over her bosom.
Julia released a deep breath before she turned to face her cousin. She met her warm gray stare, eyes she knew better than her own. Unlike her, Livie had the St. John wide doe eyes, like both their fathers. It was always hard to stare at her cousin for too long, because it made her miss her father terribly.
“I-I’m sorry, Livie,” Julia forced out, her body sagging with weariness. It had been a long exhausting day, but then he had appeared. Seeing Henry again had unnerved her completely and caused her a fatigue she hadn’t felt in years.
“It’s fine, I understand your reaction.” Livie placed her hand on Julia’s shoulder before she pulled her into an embrace.
Julia was smaller in both height and size. As a child, she often wished she was tall like Livie instead of the smaller stature she was blessed with.
She relaxed into her cousin’s arms. Her eyes felt heavy with tears, but she wouldn’t cry, not for him. He would get no more of her tears.
Carefully stepping out of the embrace, she looked up and shook her head back and forth. “I’m really okay. Seeing Henry doesn’t affect me in the least.” Julia turned and sat down on the edge of her large brass bed.
Livie took the seat beside her before she took her by the hand. “I would understand if it affected you. You’re only human, Julia, and you were going to marry him after all. You’re entitled to feel however you feel.”
“I feel nothing. It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on.” The words were heavy on her tongue, the lie causing her to look away from Livie who surely would know the truth.
Julia had moved on in her own way. She was New Julia. Old Julia would allow the mere sight of him to unnerve her, but not New Julia. No, New Julia wouldn’t pay him the slightest bit of attention.
“I don’t know if you’re trying to convince me or yourself, but I understand.” Livie’s voice was so kind and patient that it drove Julia mad. Why couldn’t Livie show some hint of anger toward anyone? Sometimes Julia loathed how good she was. Julia would never be as kind and gentle.
She stood up and turned to face her cousin. “How could you possibly understand? You have everything you’ve ever wanted: a husband who worships you, children who adore you, all of London loves you. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be ridiculed and whispered about throughout society.” Her voice had raised to near shouting. Tears stung at the corner of her eyes.
Her cousin tilted her head and rapidly blinked at her. “Can’t I?”
Julia reared back, realizing that she had let her temper take over again. Of course, Livie knew what it was like to be under constant scrutiny by the ton. Their first Season had found her at the forefront of the gossips. They had the gall to call her plump. Livie never let it affect her, and now they all worshiped at her feet.
“I didn’t mean that.” Julia’s shoulders fell in disappointment. “I’m just so infuriated that he had the nerve to show his face here at my home.”
“I’m sure he had no idea that you lived here as well.” Livie tried to reason with her, which only infuriated Julia. “When he left, you were staying with Mother and Father—”
She continued on as if Livie had not spoken, her wrath bubbling over once more. “He probably thinks I’ve been here waiting on him to return like some eager lightskirt. Well, he’s wrong. He’s nothing to me.”
“Julia! I’ll thank you not to use such references. You’re still a lady, even if you choose not to behave like one most of the time.” A knock on the door interrupted Julia’s tirade. “Come in,” Livie called out, standing from the bed.
Remington entered, his gaze searching for his wife. Julia could see him visibly relax once he found her, an instant smile taking over his handsome face. They were sickening, absolutely disgusting, in an everyone-should-be-jealous-of-their-love way. And everyone was. They were revered by society causing everyone to speak of them in awe. A true love match that would outlast time, children, and gossip.
“There you are. I need your assistance…Heartford and Mr. Edwards are staying with us,” he said nervously, his gaze shifting to Julia.
She turned and glared at her cousin-in-law. “Surely you told him to rot in hell—”
“Julia! That is uncalled for, and you will behave yourself while Lord Heartford is a guest in my home.” Livie’s voice was firm as she walked over to her waiting husband.
