She was going to be his wife, finally.
The following morning, Julia stood outside of St. Clara’s townhome. Nerves performed a country dance in the pit of her abdomen. Deep breaths did little to calm the pounding in her head. He was her friend, who needed her and now she would renege on their agreement. The St. Clara she knew wouldn’t be cross with her, but it did not make her feel any easier.
Her day wasn’t going very well, and Livie had ignored her during breakfast. Although Julia had held hands with Henry, she felt the loss of her beloved cousin intently.
After breakfast, Henry had escorted her to the waiting carriage. He wanted to come with her, but she assured him again that she was safe with St. Clara.
Centering herself, Julia clutched the fading brass knocker in the shape of a dragon’s head. She gave it a few quick raps before she took a step back to wait patiently.
Her mind wandered to Livie’s words the night before. The pristine white bed sheets she woke to that morning, a reminder that she could indeed be with child.
She knew that a fortnight was likely too soon for her to know for sure, but the sight of her absent courses caused joy to fill her.
What if she was carrying Henry’s child?
Julia had never been the sort of woman to meticulously count the days of her courses. Once, she had imagined swelling with Henry’s child, their first of many—a blond-haired, green-eyed little boy—and now that dream may come true.
“Lady Julia?” the butler asked, staring at her in confusion.
“I would like to see His Grace.” Julia walked past him.
She was apprehensive, afraid that she would lose the duke’s friendship. Julia had agreed to be his wife for he needed his mother’s funds, but she had to follow her heart.
“Of course, my lady. Right this way.”
She followed him into the small parlor and looked around. For some reason, everything looked different to her now that she and Henry had reunited.
It was dark and lacking life, reminding her more of a prison than a home.
“Shall I send for tea?” The butler’s deep raspy voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes, thank you.” Julia took a seat in a worn old chair and drummed her fingers together nervously.
“Very well. I shall inform His Grace that you have arrived.”
Once she was alone, Julia stood and paced, too nervous to sit. After all, she was breaking her promise to him. He had been a friend to her when she needed one most, and she felt terrible for abandoning him.
“I see you’ve returned.” St. Clara’s smooth voice filled the room. He held the latest gossip sheet in his hand, his brow furrowed.
She forced a smile on her face, remembering what she had read that morning. The gossips seemed more aware of what was going on in Livie’s house than the servants. Reporting on her and Henry as if whatever they did was anyone’s business but their own. “St. Clara, we need to talk.” Her voice shook. She began unbuttoning her pelisse to distract herself.
Shaking his head, St. Clara strolled over to where she stood by the fireplace, holding up the gossip sheet. “There is no need. I release you from our agreement.”
She stood speechless in front of him, her voice caught in her throat. Looking up at her friend, she saw what no one else did when they looked at the Duke of St. Clara—kindness.
“How did you know?” Her voice shook with nerves. She gripped her hands tightly, waiting on anger, indignation, anything.
“It was obvious every time I saw you two together and the gossips love the both of you. I am surprised he did not choose to come and gloat himself.” St. Clara sat in an armchair, watching her closely.
A maid entered with a tea tray and set it on a small table, chipped and beaten from age. “Shall I pour, Your Grace?”
“No, Margarete. That will be all.” St. Clara lazily walked to the center of the room and stood beside the tea tray. “Take a seat, bird. You look as if you’re going to be ill.”
She did indeed feel as if she was going to be sick.
Taking a deep calming breath, Julia did as instructed. The faded green sofa sank beneath her weight.
St. Clara began preparing their tea. She had never seen this nurturing side of him before.
