“And yet that was not enough to please you?”
“Oh, Shelbourne.” She worried her upper lip in that same old fashion of hers, the one that drove him to distraction every time. “It was never your proposal of marriage which did not please me. It was everything else.”
Everything else? Just what the devil did that mean? He was about to ask her to expound upon her vague claims, itching to know more, but Julianna’s gaze traveled over his shoulder, her expression shifting. All the emotion clouding her lovely face dissipated as she offered a smile he knew without a doubt was feigned.
“Johnston, there you are,” she said brightly. “I expect it is time for Lady Emily’s nap, is it not?”
Grudgingly, Sidney turned to find the nurse standing on the periphery. “It is indeed, my lady, as long as you are agreeable.”
Julianna flicked a glance at Sidney, then back to Johnston. “We are done here. Your timing is impeccable.”
Sidney watched his wife and daughter walking away, leaving him alone in the garden. In his opinion, the blasted woman’s timing had been quite bloody terrible. But no one had consulted him on the matter, had they?
And that was damn well going to change.
Chapter 14
Dear Julianna,
Last night, I dreamt of you. We were in the temple at Farnsworth Hall and you were my wife. Foolish, I know. Sometimes we dream of the unattainable, other times of our greatest fears, with little ration or reason to these slumbering illusions. It hardly matters. I woke to despair, knowing you shall forever be lost to me, understanding that you will likely forever have a hold upon me, even from afar. You shall always own the greatest piece of my heart.
Forever yours, (damn you),
Sidney
Her conversation with Tilly earlier that day returned to Julianna as she lingered in the library, reading to distract herself as she awaited Shelbourne’s evening return from his club. As the duchess had said, Julianna could not live in the past, could not change it. She was clinging to past fear and anger instead of moving forward. She could see it now, given the clarity of some hours spent outside his presence.
She could also see she had overreacted about the daisy incident.
Julianna was willing to admit it.
She was protective of her daughter, fiercely so. And when she had returned home to discover Emily was not in the nursery where Julianna had expected to find her, she had been initially frantic. After learning from Johnston that Shelbourne had taken Emily for an excursion in the garden, she had rushed instantly there. Her frenzy had not been aided one whit by the sight of Shelbourne scooping a decimated flower from their daughter’s mouth, followed by Emily’s subsequent tears.
But he had been right when he said he had been attempting to smooth the transition for them. Oh, he was stubborn and cruel when he wished. But there had been softer moments. The nursery he had readied for Emily. The food offerings he had sent to her that first night, and the fact he remembered in great detail what she preferred to eat for breakfast. He had stopped over-imbibing as well, as near as she could tell, and his kisses and touches…
A shudder went through her, along with longing so acute, it built in her core as a physical ache. This would not do. She intended to have a conversation with Shelbourne when he arrived. Not to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. Her intention was to leave. And sooner rather than later, she reminded herself. This marriage of theirs could not end in anything other than sadness for the both of them unless something changed.
That something was Julianna. She had to return to New York City. Scarcely any time as Shelbourne’s wife, and already, she had grown weak.
She was saved from further torment when a change in the air alerted her to another presence.His.She knew before she looked up from her book to find him sauntering toward her.
“Wentworth suggested you wished to see me, my lady.” He reached her and bowed, calm, elegant.
A world away from the angry man who had confronted her in the parterre.
She put her book aside and rose, disliking the manner in which he towered over her. He was still taller than she was, but at least they were more evenly matched this way.
“Thank you for seeking me out,” she said, for she had not been certain he would.
Shelbourne was not the sort of man easily brought to heel. And the way they had left things earlier in the garden—her hasty retreat after their heated exchange, followed by his departure—had left her uneasy.
His lips firmed. “You are my wife, Julianna. I can hardly ignore you.”
He was not harsh and forbidding, but neither was his countenance pleased or welcoming. She gathered the courage to say what she had been practicing in the time since she had seen Emily to bed for the night.
“Still, I know all too well that you could have circumvented me and gone to bed for the evening. I am grateful you did not.”
A lone, dark brow rose. “And what, pray tell, is the reason for this tête-à-tête?”
