“Juliet,” Kate interjected coolly.
“Juliet, have you met my brother?”
The viscount’s brother? That only served to confuse me further. Now that I could see them next to each other, they did share a resemblance. But Mr. Wayland was clearly several years the viscount’s senior. I sat there gaping like a fish, the answer just beyond my grasp.
“Half brother,” Mr. Wayland corrected.
Suddenly the pieces slipped into place. I remembered myself and gave a quick bow in his direction.
“Yes, briefly,” I said, tossing the comment in the viscount’s direction.
Mr. Wayland removed his hat and adjusted his hair. I averted my gaze; it would not do to be found staring.
“It’s good to see you again, Lady Juliet. I trust you’ve been well?”
“Yes, quite,” I forced out, panic rising in my chest.
Two months. Eight weeks. Sixty days in his presence. Under the same roof. The disconcerting man who single handedly shattered the pretty illusions under which I had been living my life.
I threw a dismayed look to Kate, whose innocent smile had not faltered in several minutes. Kate never smiled like that. Every thought that passed through her head shone on her face for all to see. She had never seen the purpose in hiding her emotions as I had. It was all the confirmation I required.
He set this up on purpose. Whether merely a carriage ride, my invitation, or the entire house party, I could not be certain. But this was a plan, and Kate was involved. White, hot betrayal burned through my veins.
Surely, she could not be aware of it all. Kate would never put me in this situation if she understood Mr. Wayland’s relationship with my father. Nor the humiliation I suffered when he called. She could not. I refused to believe that of my dearest friend.
I bit back the angry tears, staring at my hand. There was a small hole in the thumb of my white leather glove. The tiniest bit of my nail peeked through the hole. I studied it with more attention than I had devoted to any previous lesson. It would need to be repaired shortly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a number of silent gestures between the occupants of the gray velvet upholstered carriage. It was a well-loved but comfortable carriage, probably in need of some maintenance. The curtains were drawn over both windows, trapping the tension within the conveyance’s confines.
There was a quiet thump in Mr. Wayland’s direction. Beneath lowered lashes, I saw him rubbing his shin with discomfort. I did not blame him. I had been the recipient of Kate’s frustration on more than one occasion, and she was stronger than she appeared.
Moved to speak under the threat of further violence, “So”—a pause to clear his throat— “Have you been well since the ball?”
“Yes,” I said into my lap, voice thick, ignoring the repeated question.
There was a lengthy pause, a scuffle, and some sort of thunk—this time, she hit the carriage.
“Unseasonably warm weather we’re having,” Mr. Wayland murmured.
“Yes.” More gesturing.
“As I recall, you knew more than one word when we last spoke.”
“Michael…” the viscount warned. This was followed by head tilts and flailing hands, this time from the viscount’s corner as well. I could only discern hints of meanings because I maintained the meticulous study of my glove. Though not torn, the forefinger was threadbare and in need of repair.
Mr. Wayland—Michael—the viscount called him, released a barely concealed sigh of frustration. “I brought a novel I thought might interest you.”
I couldn’t keep my head down at that. “You did?” I could not conceal the eagerness in my voice.
At my side, Kate’s shoulders relaxed, tension easing.
“Yes, I quite enjoyed it myself.”
He passed me a small book across the carriage.
“Thank you,” I was earnest in my appreciation. I returned my gaze to my lap, this time filled withThe Romance of the Forest. Rubbing my thumbs reverently over the cover, I was eager to crack it open. Unfortunately, manners prevailed. Though, honestly, I was being quite rude as it was, refusing to so much as look at anyone.
“Jules,” Kate said with a more plaintive tone than I was accustomed to from her. “You can read it. No one will mind.”
