“Hardly.” He might regret some of his actions, but not all of them. “You played your part.”
“I am aware of that.” She took a large gulp of wine.
“Why did you do it?” Julian asked. “Place the advertisement in all its unfettered glory in the first place?”
Mrs. Sheraton looked down at her glass. “Guilt, perhaps?”
Julian just looked at her.
She sighed. “And perhaps a little bit of jealousy?”
“Carenza didn’t deserve that.”
She raised her chin. “I am quite aware of that, but jealousy is not always a rational thing.”
“You resented her for being married to Hector?”
“God, no. It’s more that she survived him and moved on with her life, whereas I …” She grimaced. “I remained mired in guilt at having led him on for what I thought were the most virtuous of reasons. Namely, to expose him for what he was.”
“With respect, ma’am. Hector never needed to be led to anything. He just took whatever he could without caring about whom he hurt in the process. You are hardly to blame for his amoral nature.”
“It’s very kind of you to say so, but I still hurt my best friend.”
“And Hector hurt you and I failed miserably to hold him to account despite being his best friend.”
“Carenza told you about what happened?” She sighed. “Of course she did. She’s in love with you.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” Julian murmured. He reached for his glass and drained it.
“One cannot blame her for being cautious,” Mrs. Sheraton said. “Hector—”
“Was a bad man, as my brother would say,” Julian completed her sentence. “I am aware of that.”
“Then what are we going to do to fix things?” Mrs. Sheraton looked at him. “Surely you have a plan.”
“I must confess that I have no idea what to do.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Mrs. Sheraton said.
“It’s the truth.” Julian hesitated. “I’m not even sure how to approach her, let alone fix all the damage that’s been caused.”
Mrs. Sheraton finished her wine, and Julian poured her another glass. “I think you will have to be honest with her.”
“Not a strength of mine,” Julian admitted. “I’ve always avoided expressing my feelings.”
“Having seen the way your mother behaves toward you, I’m not surprised. She treats you like a poor relation who’s been foisted on the family.”
“Thank you.” Julian grimaced. “I was hoping I was the only one who noticed.” He drank more wine. “I think I will write to Carenza and see if she responds.”
“Coward.” Mrs. Sheraton drained her second glass.
“Perhaps,” Julian acknowledged. “But I am more than willing to go to Norfolk and speak to her in person if she doesn’t respond.”
“And if she does write back and she tells you never to speak to her again?” There was a challenge in Mrs. Sheraton’s gaze.
“Then I’ll definitely go to Norfolk.”
She held up her glass, and he clinked his against hers.
