I did not fully understand Juliet’s relationship with her father, but it was somewhat strained. I didn’t press any further. With a deep sigh, she sat back up and turned to face me, one leg curled under the other.
“Tell me what really happened at the ball.”
“I have no idea what you mean. I danced with a duke.”
“And?”
I couldn’t hide the wince. “I spilled lemonade down the front of a viscount.”
She tried in vain for a moment to hold back the laugh. It escaped her in a half-splutter, half-snort.
With that noise I felt my own embarrassment turning to laughter as well.
“How on earth did you manage that?”
“A lady bumped into me at the punch table. I backed out of her way. Straight into him. It spilled down my back as well. My gown was completely translucent.”
“Oh, Kate…”
“It gets worse. I tried to help clean him up.”
“You…?”
“Rubbed at his chest with a napkin or five. Yes.”
“Oh, Kate…” Her sigh of my name was full of shared humiliation.
“I know.”
“I am so sorry. It would be funny if it had happened to anyone else.”
“I know. I had to leave the ball after. There was nothing to be done for my gown.”
“Have you had any callers since?”
“Not a one.”
She considered me thoughtfully for a moment. “Was his chest nice at least?”
“Juliet!”
“I have not left the house in nearly a month. I need something to sustain me. If you are to die alone, you should at least have enjoyed yourself in the process.”
I flushed considering that chest. I did enjoy myself. “It was lovely, all right? Very… firm.”
“And the attached viscount?”
“Unbearably handsome, even more so than His Grace. Tall, gray eyes, dark hair, impossibly cross mouth.”
“He was rude to you?”
“I had just spilled on him.”
“He spilled on himself,” she snapped. “And it was clearly an accident.”
“He told me to stop apologizing.”
“How many times did you apologize?”
