“I wouldn’t forgive him if he was the last gentleman in London.” She took a bigger gulp and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she found her friend leaning against the sofa. “You’ve been a great friend to me, St. Clara.”
St. Clara shrugged his shoulders as he looked down at the liquid in his glass. “Is that why you’re here? Because I am a dependable friend?” He tilted his head, his brown gaze unmoving.
“No. I’m here because I want everyone to forget that I had any connection with the Marquess of Heartford, and the only way I can do that is to get engaged … to you.”
He barked out a laugh, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his laughter. Belatedly, he reached a hand to cover his mouth.
“It’s really not that funny, is it? Is there anyone else you’re interested in?”
His laughter stopped abruptly. He swallowed several times, his Adam’s apple moving up and down just above his cravat. She thought she could see a sense of longing in his deep brown eyes, but he blinked and refocused his attention on her.
“Even if I did, she wouldn’t have me.” His voice was full of sadness and want.
“So, there is someone?” She stood and walked over to stand in front of him. She knew that feeling. It was how she felt after Henry had left. “Who is she?” She placed her hand on his arm, hoping to provide a bit of comfort to him.
“Someone from my past who is long lost to me, which is why I was coming to you today to propose marriage.” He spoke languidly. His words sounded mundane, like he was discussing the wheels on a carriage.
“You want to marry me?” Julia took several steps back, surprised by the turn of events. If she married St. Clara she could be free from Henry forever.
Emotions warred inside of Julia, confusing her slightly. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To forget that Henry existed?
“Yes, you’re the only person in this godforsaken society that I actually like.” He drained his drink before he pushed himself off the sofa and went to pour himself another. A small smile hinted at the corner of her lips at his admission; he, too, was one of the only people she liked.
“You don’t love me. I’m not entirely sure you find me remotely attractive.” Julia walked behind him, holding her glass out for more. She needed something to steady her. She had always foolishly thought that she would marry for love, but that was not to be the case.
St. Clara’s head swiveled toward her. His gaze traveled the length of her body. “I find you very agreeable for a lady.” His lips quirked into a half grin.
“I’m serious! Why on earth would you want to marry me?” She took the glass he offered her.
“My solicitor informed me of a clause in my inheritance I was unaware of.” His shoulders slumped as he stared down into his glass, looking for the answers to his problems. “My mother added an article upon her death that if I was not married by the age of thirty-two, then her fortune would be bequeathed to Hopewell Orphanage.”
“So, you would not inherit your mother’s fortune if you do not marry?” Though she did not know his mother, Julia couldn’t believe one could be so cruel to their own son.
He held up his glass as if giving a toast. “Yes, and I have been counting down the days for the funds. It is no secret my coffers are low and I have a nasty gambling habit. I knew I was going to inherit my mother’s trust, but not that she put stipulations on both Amelia and myself. I’ve kept this damn title and everything with it afloat just so I could save it with those funds, only to be thwarted by a dead woman.” He hung his head in defeat.
“When is your birthday?” Her voice was low as she took him in. He was trapped in an impossible situation. They were not so different.
“August.”
“Three months? You were informed that you had to marry three months before you turn thirty-two?” Julia fell back against the sideboard, causing it to bang against the wall.
“My new solicitor took over for his father and was not aware of the terms until recently.” His shoulders slumped in defeat, his face shadowed with the ghost of melancholy.
Julia knew that look. She hated it. It didn’t belong on someone as confident and sure of himself as St. Clara.
“I am in need of a fiancé and you are in need of a wife.” Julia’s heart sped up, a feeling of fear creeping up her spine, momentarily freezing her in place. She breathed slowly and steadily, the idea of marrying anyone was terrifying.
St. Clara was her friend. While she’d grown to care for him over the years, she was not sure she could marry him. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she could marry anyone. The hole Henry left in her heart was sizable and all-consuming, comparable to the one left by her parents.
“I can see the fear in your eyes. I vow to never treat you as Heartford did. I will allow you your freedom.”
Julia pondered his proposition, thinking it over.
Freedom.
She could be free to do what she pleased. She could paint and draw to her heart’s content, travel and be alone if she wished, and no one could tell her otherwise.
“Yes.” Her voice was firm as she looked at her companion.
