Juliana sighed. She trusted Fitzwilliam’s judgment, but Logan Blair had been firm in his refusal. He wasn’t the sort of man who could be made to do something he didn’t wish to do. “I can’t imagine what you can do to convince him.”
“I don’t like to say yet. Not until I’m certain I can manage the thing, but if I can, I promise you, Lina, there’s not a chance of him refusing the marriage.”
She blew out a breath. “Perhaps it would be better if I were to go back to England at once. There must be some gentleman or other in London I can persuade to marry me—”
“No. I won’t send you off to London to become prey to scoundrels and fortune hunters. Logan hasn’t shown himself to advantage, but I promise you, you’re far better off with him than you’d be with any of those blackguards. Besides, you said yourself you must have your father’s approval for the match. I know Lord Graystone, Lina. He may not be entirely lucid, but even so, I doubt he’ll approve a fortune hunter.”
“No,” she agreed. “But there’s no guarantee he’ll approve Mr. Blair, either.”
Fitzwilliam gave her a cryptic smile. “I think he will, especially once my arrangements are complete, but it’s going to take a bit of time to get everything in order. Will you stay a little longer, and give me a chance to help you?”
Juliana looked into Fitz’s anxious eyes, and her heart ached. She didn’t have much hope Logan Blair would change his mind, but she couldn’t refuse Fitzwilliam this—not when he wanted so desperately to help her. “I suppose a few days won’t make any difference.”
He pressed her hand. “Thank you, Lina. Now, you must be exhausted.” He rang the bell, and after a short time the housekeeper appeared. “Ah, Mrs. Selkirk. Please show Lady Juliana to her bedchamber, and see that a hot bath is prepared and a tray is sent to her room.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Selkirk smiled at Lady Juliana.
“Oh, and Mrs. Selkirk? Once Lady Juliana is settled, send Miss Emilia to me, if you would.”
Mrs. Selkirk nodded, and gestured for Juliana to precede her out of the room.
Juliana cast one last look at Fitzwilliam, but he waved her away with a smile. “Go on, and don’t worry, Lina. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
Juliana thought of Logan Blair’s stiff face, the tightness of his mouth when he’d refused her, and she doubted anyone could take care of it. But she allowed herself to be led away by Mrs. Selkirk, her body weary from her long ride, and her heart filled with misgivings.
Chapter Eight
Juliana’s first thought when she woke the next morning was that a wiser lady would give up this mad scheme. She’d go back to England and do whatever she must to dig up a likely husband.
It would be easier than trying to reason with Logan Blair.
Easier than marrying him, as well.
Fitzwilliam didn’t intend to let her give up, however. He’d guessed she’d succumb to her doubts this morning, and had appointed her a guardian to keep her from fleeing.
“More tea, Lady Juliana?”
Juliana nodded, and held out her teacup. “Yes, thank you.”
Emilia Ferguson poured the tea into the dainty porcelain cup, set it on the tray, and pushed it across the table toward Juliana. “There. Isn’t this cozy?”
“Yes, very.” Juliana was well aware Fitzwilliam’s betrothed was her gaoler for the day, but as far as prisons went, she couldn’t deny Emilia had created a remarkably cozy one.
Juliana had woken later than usual. She’d thought to find the breakfast room deserted, but Emilia had been waiting for her there, despite the advanced hour. She’d cheerfully informed Juliana that Fitzwilliam had ridden to Inverness much earlier to tend to some business there. He expected to be gone all day, but he’d promised to stop at the Sassy Lassie and bring Stokes back with him to Castle Kinross that evening.
There was no sign of Logan Blair, and Juliana wondered fleetingly whether Emilia had taken her to this secluded back parlor to keep the two of them apart.
“I don’t mind saying I’m glad to have you to myself today, Lady Juliana,” Emilia said, as if she’d read Juliana’s mind. “Fitzwilliam has told me so much about you, I’m anxious to know you.”
Emilia offered her a shy smile, and Juliana’s own lips curved in response. Emilia Ferguson had one of those infectious smiles that made everyone around her smile in return. It was easy to see why Fitzwilliam had fallen in love with her.
She was very pretty, certainly, with her dark hair and dark blue eyes, and she had a sweetness about her, a loveliness that radiated outward from her heart.
In some ways Emilia reminded Juliana of herself when she was younger. Oh, she’d never been as shy as Emilia was—every time their gazes met Emilia’s cheeks flushed a becoming pink—but she’d had that same sort of naiveté about her, that same cheerfulness that came from knowing everything in her life was just as it should be, and would remain that way forever.
Until, of course, it didn’t.
Perhaps if she’d been forced to overcome some challenge before then, she wouldn’t have been so shocked when everything fell apart, but up until Emma’s death, and then Jonathan’s a year later, Juliana had had very little in her life to vex her.
