What sort of life could she make with him, if she forced him to abandon the lady he loved? How could he ever forgive her, if she demanded such a sacrifice of him? He’d make the best of it, because that was who Fitzwilliam was, but a marriage between them would destroy their friendship, and leave them with nothing but bitter regret.
She despised the idea of hurting him, but she couldn’t afford to make another mistake this time. Her father had still been reasonably healthy when he, Juliana, and Grace had gone to Buckinghamshire to visit Hugh. When Juliana had discovered Hugh was in love with Isla, she’d thought she still had plenty of time to find another man to marry. She’d released Hugh from their betrothal thinking she’d simply wait until next season, and find a proper gentleman then.
Less than a week after they’d returned to Surrey she’d realized her mistake. Her father had had another attack, and this time instead of recovering, he’d continued to deteriorate. All at once it became imperative she marry at once, before her father…before it was too late.
If she hadn’t given up Hugh to Isla, Juliana would be Lady Pierce even now, and Grace would be safe. Instead she’d tried to do the honorable thing, and she’d made a mess of it. She couldn’t afford to do the same with Fitzwilliam.
A picture of her lively, dark-eyed niece flashed through her mind, and her heart swelled with pride and love. If Grace were sent to live with Lord Cowden, Juliana would never forgive herself.
She turned her attention back to Logan Blair, her face carefully blank. “Either you agree to marry me, or Fitzwilliam and I will leave Castle Kinross at once, and be back in England before two weeks have passed.”
Mr. Blair’s face remained expressionless, but his fingers tightened on the arm of his chair. “So, you wouldn’t hesitate to rip Fitz from the arms of the woman he loves and force him into a marriage with you, even though you know he doesn’t love you?”
“It’syouwho will be the cause of Fitzwilliam losing the lady he loves, not me. I don’t like you, Mr. Blair. I don’t trust you, and I don’t want to marry you, but I’m willing to do it so Fitzwilliam can be with Emilia. It’s a pity you aren’t willing to do as much for your own brother.”
“You don’t have any idea what I’m willing to do.”
Juliana suppressed a shiver. “Oh, I think I do. You’ve already confessed to being a thief, and you’re guilty of a disgraceful invasion of my privacy. I can’t suppose you’d hesitate to do worse. Indeed, even now you appear to be threatening me.”
“No, no threats, but I do think you should be made aware of how many people you’ll hurt if you insist on marrying my brother.”
The tone of his voice, the look on his face when he said those words made the hair on the back of Juliana’s neck rise. Her threat to take Fitzwilliam away should have ended this battle, but Mr. Blair wasn’t finished.
He knew something. Something she didn’t.
She swallowed. “I already told you, I have no desire to hurt Fitzwilliam or his betrothed, but—”
“No, I don’t think you do wish to hurt them. But I’m not referring to Fitz or Emilia.” He paused, his blue eyes glittering. “I’m referring, Lady Juliana, to their child.”
Juliana went still, her heart shrinking in her chest.
Their child…
They were the last two words she heard before the roaring in her head drowned out every other sound, every thought.
Fitzwilliam was having a child. He was in love with his betrothed, and they were having a child together. A child as sweet and intelligent as Grace, perhaps, with Fitzwilliam’s blue eyes and his beautiful smile. A child Juliana would love as much as she loved Grace, because Fitzwilliam’s child would be her niece as surely as Grace was. Hadn’t Juliana always considered Fitzwilliam her brother, as much as she did Jonathan?
A child who deserved a father…
Mr. Blair was saying something to her. She could see his mouth moving, but the words couldn’t reach beyond the noise in her head. He reached for her, his eyes dark with concern, but Juliana shook her head and snatched her hand away.
Couldn’t he see it was over?
He’d inflicted the deepest wound, drawn the most blood.
He’d won.
There was nothing left to say.
Chapter Seven
Fitz was waiting for him by the library door. As soon as he saw Logan, his face fell. “You don’t look like a man who’s happily betrothed.”
“I’m not.” Logan leaned against the door and tipped his head back against the wood. If he’d had any lingering hope he wasn’t the blackguard he suspected himself to be, Fitz’s anguished expression shattered it.
Logan had known he’d emerge from the battle of wills with Lady Juliana the victor. What he hadn’t known was instead of feeling triumphant, he’d be heartily ashamed of himself.
“Unhappily betrothed, then?” Fitz asked hopefully.
