Miss Watson blushed.
“Miss Watson! You have a secret!”
“Not a secret, really. Not anymore. But I did once fancy myself in love. Quite mad about him, I was.”
Miss Watson had been old for as long as Julia could remember. She couldn’t conceive of the spinster ever holding a tendrefor anyone—and definitely not a “mad” tendre. She pondered the notion as the pathway widened, joining Southford’s drive.
“Did the gentleman return your affection?” Julia asked.
Miss Watson fiddled with her glove. “Yes.”
Well. Julia frowned. Was there anything melancholier than wasted love?
Without her help, Markham and Clarissa may never have come together. And she didn’t even want to think of the opportunity that would have been lost if she hadn’t goaded Katherine and Bromton.
“What happened?” she asked.
“He was promised to another.” Miss Watson’s voice fell as they approached the manor house. “And, like the good gentleman he was, he refused to break his vow.”
Julia harrumphed. “I don’t like that story. Why can’t everything go as it should?”
Miss Watson considered the question. “And how should it go?”
“Love should win, of course.”
“Over honor?” Miss Watson shook her head. “I could never have been happy, knowing my happiness came at the expense of another’s.”
“Who is to say your love and his betrothed are happy?” Julia asked. “And, even if they are, their happiness came at the expense of yours.”
“Wife,” Miss Watson corrected. “Andwere.”
“Were what?” Julia asked.
“Were happy. Content, at least. They never roused a word of gossip, anyway. But the past tense is proper, as his wife passed on a few years ago.”
Julia paused. “Ishestill living?”
“Julia,” Miss Watson said warningly. “Don’t you go getting any ideas!”
“And don’t you go thinking your scowl will keep me from looking him up!” Julia bounded up the stairs. “What if he never forgot about you?”
“Fuss and vinegar,” Miss Watson muttered, following after.
A footman opened Southford’s doors, and Julia led Miss Watson past the guests gathered in the dining hall, straight into the library.
“Markham just purchased the latest copy ofDebrett’s.” Julia slipped the book from the shelf. “His name?”
“You won’t let this go, will you?” Miss Watson asked.
“Absolutely not. And you knew that, didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did.” Miss Watson smiled a gentle smile. “Very well. His name is Edmund Alistair Clarke.”
“Clarke… Clarke…R… S… T…Therewe go.” Julia squinted up. “Edmund Alistair Clarke,ViscountBelhaven?”
“He wasn’t a viscount then, of course.”
Julia ran her finger along the entry. “He has two sons and a daughter, and…why, I’ve heard of this estate! It’s just on the English side of the Scottish border…not more than a day’s ride from Bromton Castle.”
