“Yes.”
“I have packing to do.”
“I will send Stevens in to assist you.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“Try telling that to him.”
“Fine.”
It took a few moments to force my legs to respond to my commands in order to stand. Eventually I managed the effort and with heavy steps I left the study, and the still disapproving eyes of two viscounts.
Twenty-Three
THORNTON HALL, KENT - JUNE 4, 1814
JULIET
I woke earlythe next morning more rested than I could ever recall. I missed Michael at supper last night, and a small part of me was disappointed to hear no knock on my door later that evening. Still, it was probably best to avoid talk. Eager as I was for another visit to our bridge, I rose well before the appropriate hour. I dressed with care and fussed with my curls longer than usual.
When it was finallynearlyan acceptable hour to break my fast, I left in search of a cup of tea. I rounded the stairs only to nearly run smack into Stevens carrying a hefty trunk. A trunk with the initialsM. W.printed on the front. My blissful mood soured instantly, stomach dropping to the floor.
“Stevens? Is someone leaving?”
His face was grave, confirming what I knew from the sight of the trunk. “Mr. Wayland left early this morning, ma’am.”
“I see… He will not be returning?”
“I do not believe so.”
“Did he say why he left?”
My answer came from behind. “He had business to attend to in London. He had been away from his club too long.” The viscount’s voice was stern, brokering no room for further questions. When I turned, his expression was more sympathetic than I would have expected from the tone.
My throat was tight with emotion, and I knew I could not get words out. I respond with a solemn nod instead.
“Lady Juliet, I know you and my brother have grown… closer over the last few weeks. I do hope you will be able to find some other diversion while you’re here. I’m certain Kate would be happy to assist you with your trousseau.”
I forced the words through a thick voice, “Thank you. I’m sure she will.” My breath was catching once more, tight in my chest. I needed out of this house. “I believe I will take a walk this morning. Would you be so kind as to let Kate know?”
“Certainly.”
With his acceptance, I took the bonnet Stevens fetched at my mention of a walk, escaping from the open doors. I could not bring myself to don one more piece of clothing, so I kept it in hand.
I maintained a measured pace until I passed out of sight of the house, breaking out into a run. The effort was difficult with my breath still hitching, but my need to escape outweighed my need for air. Without decision, I found myself rounding the corner at our bridge. Tossing my bonnet with all my might, it caught in the air and floated gently down in a most unsatisfying manner. In retaliation for my bonnet’s defiance I kicked my slippers off, flinging them at the tree where they made a satisfying thump against the bark. I stomped over to the bridge before flopping down in the middle in an unladylike display, legs hanging over the side. My lungs obeyed me, my run having overruled the hitch, but they were heaving with the effort.
There were a great number of emotions jockeying for priority with every inhale. Anger, sadness, resignation, hurt all manifested. As one, my lungs began to relax, and my heart made itself known. There was, instead, an aching want spreading from deep in my chest all the way through my arm to my fingertips. Numbly, I stared as the dogwood petals floated gently past me, dancing in the current of the creek. There were tiny drips plopping between the rosy petals. My first thought was that once more it had started to rain. Instead, I realized they were tears dripping off my nose, only discovered when I rubbed the back of my wrist against it rudely.
I had no idea how long I had been sitting here, staring at water bubbling past when I heard a throat clear from over by the tree. For one brief, beautiful moment my heart soared and I thought Michael had returned, that it was a misunderstanding. When I looked up to see Mr. Tom Grayson my heart fell once more.
“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to see if you were alright.”
Frantically, I wiped tears and other, more disgusting discharges from my face with the back of my hand.
“You’re not interrupting anything, Mr. Grayson. I’m perfectly well.” My voice was hoarse, and my face was certainly red. Even if he missed the other tell-tale signs of crying, these would not escape his notice. Still, I hoped my assurance was enough for him to recognize my desire for privacy and assuage his guilt at leaving a lady in such a state.
“Tom, please. May I sit?”
