She borrowed a shawl from the housekeeper and added, “I’ll be back within an hour.”
Mrs. Larson nodded her approval. “Be assured, I won’t be telling Lady Lanfordshire about where ye’ve gone, if that’s what you’re fearing. Be careful, won’t ye?” Juliette nodded, already moving outside the bedroom while the housekeeper followed. “I suppose ye’ll find him if you’re quick about it.”
Juliette slipped down the stairs and toward the front door. Just as Mrs. Larson had said, she saw Dr. Fraser with Mr. MacKinloch. The two men were arguing, and though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, there was no mistaking the anger. She frowned, wondering what their disagreement was. The two men parted, Dr. Fraser moving toward the stables while Mr. MacKinloch went to join the crofters who were setting up tents upon the duke’s land.
She waited a few moments, uncertain of whether to approach. It was so late at night, and he might mistake her intentions. Behind her, she heard her mother’s voice, and the door opened.
Before Beatrice could see her, Juliette fled toward the stable in the cover of darkness. For a moment, she stood at the door, calming the rapid beat of her heart. There was no reason to be apprehensive about speaking to Paul.
She found him standing beside the horses. The scent of smoke mingled with the animal odors, and she stepped inside. Paul’s hair was wild, a dark tangle cropped above his ears. His coat hung open, and he’d rolled up his sleeves. At the moment, he was brushing one of the horses, as if to indulge in a mindless activity.
“Thank you for trying to put out the fire,” she began, not knowing how else to begin. The words she’d rehearsed earlier, of all the reasons why he needed to walk away from their friendship, caught in her throat and would not come forth.
“I was glad to help.” Paul didn’t turn toward her but kept his gaze fixed upon the horses. For a long minute, the awkward moment expanded until she thought about leaving again.
“You stopped answering my letters last year,” he said, finally facing her. With each step he drew closer, her guilt intensified. “You haven’t written me in months. Not even when I asked you to marry me.”
This was it, then. The chance she’d wanted, to discourage him from considering anything further. “It didn’t seem right.”
For it wasn’t. No words would undo her mistakes, nor breach the distance between them. She’d paid the postage to accept every letter he’d sent… but she couldn’t bring herself to open the more recent ones. His previous letters about medical school, and the loneliness she’d sensed in his words, had been a blade against her scarred heart. He was looking to her for friendship, and as the years had gone by, his letters had offered more. He’d bared his dreams to her, asking her to wed him when he returned.
But she was a ruined woman with another man’s son. Never could she confess the truth to him. And so, it was easier to bind up the letters and put them away unread.
“I’ll wait until you give me the answer I want to hear,” he said solemnly.
Then he would be waiting an eternity. It would be a kindness to tell him no, to do as she’d intended, and assure him that there would never be a marriage with him.
But not tonight. It would be easier to sever the ties when she went back to London. Then, at least, she would not have to face him.
Juliette struggled to think of what to say next, and offered the only question she could: “Who do you think set the fire?” She still wondered if one of Strathland’s men had somehow slipped inside their house amid the crofters.
Dr. Fraser hesitated, as if thinking about the answer. “I’m certain Strathland had a hand in it.”
At the very mention of the earl, Juliette’s stomach roiled. Though she’d tried to stay clear of the man, even his name made her skin crawl. Lord Strathland had constantly tried to insinuate himself with their family, and Juliette had been glad to escape him in London.
“Then there’s no reason to ask why, is there? He wants us gone from Scotland so he can control the land.” She made no effort to hide her distaste.
The earl had been buying up thousands of sheep, now that wool was at a premium during the war. Most of the soldiers were off fighting Napoleon’s forces in Spain, and wool was in high demand for their uniforms. Lord Strathland desperately needed more grazing lands for the animals, and her family had often found his herds trespassing on their property.
“I believe so, aye.” Dr. Fraser stared at her long enough for her to grow nervous, as if he could read the thoughts within her. He took a step closer, and she locked her feet in place, feeling as if the air between them had grown warmer.
Leave.Her mind uttered the warning, for if she didn’t go, her willpower would crumble into dust.
“I don’t know what we’ll do now,” she said, speaking faster. “Our debts are rising, and we’ve only just started to earn money with Victoria’s sewing.”
She hardly knew what words were escaping her mouth, for she’d grasped at any conversational topic. Yet Paul knew nothing about the sort of sewing they’d indulged in. Her sister Victoria’s scandalous line of undergarments had earned far more money than they’d ever dreamed. They had called the lingerie Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. Fashioned of silk and satin, they were impractical for most women, but perfectly suited to the wealthy members of the London ton who were accustomed to wearing garments only once or twice.
“She’ll no’ be able to sew anymore, as a duchess,” Paul pointed out. “But it may be that the Duke of Worthingstone will help your family.”
“I hope so.” But she didn’t like relying on others to solve their problems. Instead, she hoped that she and her sisters could somehow continue the business. Though Juliette loathed sewing, she did enjoy setting the prices and keeping the accounts. Tallying up the cost of supplies, the delivery fees for Mr. Sinclair, and predicting the profits were ways of filling up the lonely hours.
Perhaps she could do even more to help, if she returned to London. It was a way of helping her family, and she could make herself useful again. Especially if she never married.
She stared off into the darkness, a softness catching at her heart as she remembered her sister’s face when she’d spoken her wedding vows to the duke. “It was a lovely wedding. I never thought Victoria would be the first of us to wed. But I’m glad for her.”
“What of you?” he asked. “Did you enjoy your Christmas in London?” There was a sharpness to his voice, as if he’d imagined her mother parading her around to potential husbands.
“I enjoyed visiting with my aunt and her son,” she confessed.My son,she corrected inwardly. At the memory of Matthew’s round face and the way he’d attempted to stuff his fist into his mouth, she couldn’t stop her smile. But when she thought of having to leave him, her throat tightened. The stolen moments with Matthew were worth the terrible cost of giving him up. And if she could never marry, she wanted to be close to him, as often as she could.
