“And she said we can continue our sewing.” Amelia beamed at the idea, as if she’d thought of it first. Juliette didn’t bother to correct her. “The crofters have continued working on the garments, and we’ll take them with us to sell.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, Amelia added, “Perhaps we could trade the undergarments Victoria made, in return for new gowns.”
“We can’t. Mr. Sinclair has to be the one to sell the garments. No one can know that we created the corsets and chemises,” she chided. “It has to remain a secret.”
Amelia’s mood faded. “I suppose.” She appeared disappointed in the need for secrecy. But then, her sister underestimated how important it was to maintain respectability.
The kitten Paul had given her, which Juliette had named Dragon, meowed, nudging her legs before he flopped down and waited for her to stroke his ears. Juliette sat upon the floor, obliging the animal. “The duke promised our mother that you and Margaret could have a Season this spring. You’ll need many gowns for it,” she said.
Amelia came to sit beside her on the floor. “And what about you?”
Juliette drew up her knees beneath her gown. “I’ve no desire for a Season at all. I’d rather remain unmarried. I’ll handle the accounts for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables and be contented with the work.”
Her sister stared at her with dismay. “But you can’t, Juliette. That would be unbearably lonely.”
“I like adding sums and making money,” she countered. “There’s nothing lonely about it.”
The lie slipped easily from her lips, and she added, “Besides, I don’t need a marriage to be happy. I’ll have my independence and can go as I please. Perhaps one day I’ll have a home of my own and a companion when I’m old.”
“Or perhaps you’d rather marry Dr. Fraser,” her sister interjected. “He’s quite handsome. And he did bring you a kitten.”
Juliette shook her head in exasperation. “Don’t be ridiculous.” As if a kitten would change her mind about men. Even so, her face reddened at the mention of Paul.
Spinsterhood was good, she told herself. There was never a danger of any man touching her again.
But abruptly, Amelia stopped and stared at her for a long moment. Her sister frowned, her eyes discerning. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. I know you slipped out to see him twice already.”
Clearly younger sisters made the best spies. Juliette’s face flamed, but she waved a hand. “It was just a harmless infatuation when we were younger, that’s all. We’re friends, and I’ve hardly seen him in five years. We talked about nothing, really.”
“No.” Amelia’s gaze sharpened. “It’s much more than that.” She studied her, as if she could see through her to the silent pain within. For a moment, fear slid over Juliette that her sister suspected more than she’d let on.
It didn’t matter what her past feelings had been. What mattered was the future—one without Paul. She ignored the bittersweet pang of loss, for she’d never had him to begin with.
“My past has nothing to do with you or your own future marriage,” she said brightly, steering Amelia to a different topic. “Was there a gentleman who caught your eye when we were in London for Christmas?”
“Stop trying to change the subject.” Amelia picked up the kitten, which had fallen asleep. “When we were there last, you never seemed interested in any of the parties.”
“Don’t be silly. Even if I didn’t want a husband, of course I was interested in the parties.”
Lies. All lies. She’d spent every possible moment with Matthew, rocking him to sleep, shaking a rattle to make him laugh. She could have cared less about leaving her aunt’s town house to be paraded about as a potential marriage candidate.
Her sister let out a sigh. “You might have been interested in the color of the drapes. But certainly none of the men.” She flopped down on the bed. “If you truly do love Dr. Fraser, I don’t see why you shouldn’t marry him.”
“I don’t love him, as I said before,” Juliette said. “And besides, our parents wouldn’t approve. He has no title.”
“Father wasn’t a baron until he inherited his title over a year ago from our uncle,” Amelia pointed out. “And even now, I doubt if we could attract any gentlemen at all. I’m too young, Margaret is too fastidious, and you’re too melancholy. You remind me of that glum lord, the Earl of what’s-his-dom.”
“Castledon,” Juliette corrected.
“Yes, him. The pair of you would be perfectly suited, with the way you hardly ever smile or make merry.”
Had she truly been that bad? Juliette picked up a pillow and swatted her sister. “I do smile sometimes.”
“Not often.” Amelia snatched a larger pillow and buffeted her in return.
“Are you trying to beat me into a smile?” she teased. “When we attend parties, will you strike me with your fan if I don’t smile?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Amelia mused. “Though I imagine you’d be black and blue for a while.”
Juliette couldn’t help but laugh as her sister went on the attack, using the pillow as if it were a bludgeon. “Stop it, Amelia.” Eventually, she tripped and fell upon the bed, laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
