That was what he was going to do.
Chapter 6
Present
New York City is quite different from London. It is a place, I think, where I could find myself at home, though I hardly supposed it when I first arrived. Mama is a society darling here, being a marchioness, and it has helped me find my way. I have friends, but none are quite so fiercely loyal and entertaining and sweet as Hellie. I have met gentlemen aplenty, but none of them are Sidney. None shall ever replace him, though he broke my heart. I have not told Mama about my condition yet. I know I must soon, and I fear the outcome…
~from the journal of Lady Julianna Somerset, 1883
“You are going to marry my brother.” Her dear friend Hellie, now the Countess of Huntingdon, made the pronouncement with a bright smile, as if she were announcing happy news. “Julianna, I cannot believe it. You have scarcely returned from New York City, and was it not recently you declared you would never marry?”
She had, it was true. Julianna had been holding out hope that her lawyer in New York City would be able to nullify the portion of her uncle’s will requiring her to marry. When the telegram announcing his latest failure at such attempts arrived, she had known what she had to do. Her time had been dwindling. She had gone directly to Shelbourne that very night.
“I changed my opinion,” she said lamely.
“I was also under the impression neither of you cared much for the other.”
They did not care for each other.
Julianna loved Shelbourne. She always had and she always would. And Shelbourne had never loved her. It was simple, and complicated, and terrible, all at once.
But Julianna did not say any of that. Instead, she sat in the crimson drawing room at Wickley House, swallowing the leaden weight of guilt, searching for how she might offer explanation without revealing the extent of her deceit.
There was none.
She had only kept two secrets from her friend. The first was her love for Hellie’s brother. The second was Emily, Hellie’s niece.
“Julianna?” Hellie prodded, her smile fading into a frown. “You do not look pleased by this turn.”
They were having tea. It was all quite civilized. She hoped her friend would not upend her cup in Julianna’s lap when her confessions were made.
“I am pleased,” she said, which was true, at least partially.
She had gotten what she wanted—what she needed. A marriage. Freedom. Shelbourne had concocted an elaborate ruse that could aid in Emily’s future and her legitimacy. And yet, there was so much she had not wanted. Namely, a husband in more than name only, to say nothing of the difficult task of battling Shelbourne so she could return to America.
“And yet, for a woman who claims to be pleased, you still appear the opposite,” Hellie observed.
She had thought about prolonging this moment. Trying to explain her decisions. But she feared there was no other way. If she were in Hellie’s shoes, she would probably not react to the news with aplomb. Indeed, she would likely be furious. Her friend had every right to feel betrayed; Julianna had returned and Hellie had welcomed her with open arms, bringing her into her new circle of friends, a wonderful group of women who ran the Lady’s Suffrage Society.
Better just to blurt this out and carry on. “There is something I must tell you.”
“You have been madly in love with my brother for years, and you never admitted it,” Hellie guessed.
Yes.
“No.” Another lie. What was one more? She had her pride, if nothing else.
“Drat.” Her friend eyed her shrewdly. “Shelbourne has been drinking far too much. The love of a wonderful woman would do him good.”
“I am not wonderful,” she blurted. “Not at all. Nor do I deserve your kindness, even your hospitality just now. Least of all your friendship. You see, Hellie, I have been lying to you. For the past two years, I have been keeping a secret. And when I returned to London, I continued to carry that secret, to keep the truth from you, until I settled upon the path I needed to take.”
Her friend’s countenance tightened, confusion marring her golden beauty. “I do not understand. What are you trying to tell me, Julianna? What is this secret of yours?”
“Not a what,” she said softly. “But rather, awho.”
“Who?” Hellie blinked, her mystification more apparent by the moment. “Julianna, what are you going on about?”
“Your niece,” Julianna forced herself to say, past the rising lump of guilt and shame.
