“I was only telling the truth,” Amelia said, feigning innocence. “But if you would like to offer a better price on the evening gown I intend to order, that would be good of you.”
Madame Benedict smiled. “We shall see.” As the pair of them discussed a possible design, Juliette walked over to the window, staring at the people passing by. The shop was located in Pall Mall, near a linen draper’s and a tailor’s shop. She amused herself with watching the crowds, until Amelia had finished speaking with the dressmaker. Both the footman and maid joined them when they returned outside, but as they walked along the street, Juliette sensed that they were being followed.
She slowed their pace, wondering if she was only imagining it. The weather outside was fine, but before they could arrange for a hackney, someone came up behind her and pressed something into her hand.
It was a bundle of violets. Startled, she started to turn around, but a voice murmured in her ear, “Meet me at your father’s house. I’ll be waiting, lass.”
It was the voice of Paul Fraser. The sound of his deep baritone startled her so badly, she couldn’t grasp a single thing to say. Why on earth would he leave Scotland?
For you,her heart sang.He came for you.
Before she could say a word, he sent her a knowing look and disappeared into the crowd of people. Amelia hadn’t noticed him, and neither had their footman, from the way the man’s attention was rapt upon her maid.
The bundle of violets was tied up in a small piece of string. Her traitorous heart gave a slight flutter that he’d thought to find her. But why had he told her to come to her father’s town house? Why wouldn’t he simply pay a call upon her at Aunt Charlotte’s?
Because it was unlikely that the Countess and Earl of Arnsbury would receive him.
Still, there was no one in residence at her father’s house, except for a handful of servants. Perhaps that was the reason—it would grant them privacy.
“Who gave you those?” Amelia asked.
Juliette didn’t answer but simply shook her head and shrugged. She wasn’t certain she wanted her sister to know the truth.
“You’re blushing,” Amelia informed her. “Was it a secret admirer?”
“I never saw the man,” Juliette lied, tucking the flowers into her reticule. But her heart fluttered within her chest at the knowledge that Paul hadn’t given up on her. Though it should have exasperated her, she found herself warming to it.
“It was Dr. Fraser, wasn’t it?” Amelia guessed. She beamed with delight, and Juliette stared at her.
“Now how would you think that?” A sinking suspicion grew strong within her, that her sister was matchmaking.
“I sent him a letter and asked him to come.” Amelia frowned a moment, crossing her arms. “But it’s too soon for him to be here. I gave it to Mr. Sinclair only a few days ago.” With a shrug, she remarked, “I have no idea how he traveled so fast.”
Juliette knew. It meant that Paul and Mr. Sinclair had traveled together, shadowing their journey. He’d asked her where she wanted to stay, and she’d told him London. She’d never dreamed that he would follow her.
Their footman hailed a hackney, and she and Amelia climbed aboard, their servants joining the driver. They continued along the road, toward the direction she’d seen Dr. Fraser go. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of seeing him again.
They were not far from their parents’ town house, and she spied the familiar figure approaching their home. How could Dr. Fraser think to approach the town house? Her family wasn’t there, and surely he knew that. Her nerves tightened with apprehension and more than a little curiosity.
“Stop, please,” she blurted out to the driver, even as her common sense warned that this was a terrible idea.
“Why are we stopping?” Amelia demanded.
“Because Dr. Fraser is walking toward our house,” she answered honestly.
Her sister frowned a moment. Then she feigned a slight smile of surprise. “Why, you’re right. I can’t imagine why Dr. Fraser would come to Father’s residence.” The tone in her voice was filled with untruths, making Juliette wonder what on earth her sister was up to.
Juliette ordered their driver to take them closer. When they pulled to a stop in front of the door, she disembarked with Amelia. Then she ordered their servants to return to Aunt Charlotte’s, promising to join them soon.
“Juliette, is Dr. Fraser… bleeding?” Amelia asked, her face blanching.
Dear God, her sister was right. Although Paul was wearing a dark coat, it hung open slightly. From her vantage point, Juliette spied a bloodstained shirt, and she hurried forward. Horror struck her at the thought of him being injured.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded, without bothering to greet him. “The blood, it’s—”
“It’s nothing,” he said, opening the front door. “Your mother invited me to stay here while I sought employment as a physician. Won’t you come inside?” He glanced behind at Amelia. “And your sister, of course.”
He was staying here? She didn’t at all believe her mother would do such a thing. Never in a thousand years would Beatrice invite Paul to stay in London. She was about to contradict him, but held her tongue when Amelia leaned in.
