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Why could Father not love her more than he did his reputation? Why should she suffer for her father’s pursuit of more wealth and prestige?

And that was why she’d run away from the wedding. She would rather brave her father’s wrath than consign herself to such a pathetic fate as the wife of that lecher.

“So I dressed this morning as I was told, and when the maid left me to fetch the bouquet, I ran to the stables instead. I managed to escape with Mercury because everyone was so busy.”

Her grandmother’s thumb moved across her knuckles. “You poor thing. You came to exactly the right place,” Lady Worthington said. “You will stay as long as you need.”

“He will come here first. You know he will.” Juliet looked at her with watery, desperate eyes. He was quite possibly already in pursuit. “He knows there is no one I would run to before you…and since Penhurst holds a special license, they both have every legal means to bring me back. You know I can’t stay here…I need something way more permanent to help me out of this.”

And Juliet could not think of another way to save herself from the future bearing down on her other than marrying some other man, but if that was easy to do, she would have already been married by now.

Her grandmother squeezed her hands, looking towards the fire. A moment later, the older woman snapped her face forward again, her eyes blazing with a renewed determination that made Juliet’s heart kick. She looked as though she had just remembered something very important.

“Grandmama?” Juliet started, her tone tentative.

“Wait here!” Lady Worthington said, her tone laced with an urgency that only exacerbated Juliet’s own heart rate into the high heavens.

“Grandmama, where are you…?”

“Just one moment, my darling!”

Mrs. Agnes returned with the tea tray as her grandmother hurried up the stairs. But Juliet didn’t think she could just recline here in the drawing room and sip tea. She doubted she could keep anything down in this state. How could she? Any moment now, her father could come bursting through that door, and she would be dragged back to the cathedral in London to marry that old coot.

Instead, she listened to sounds from above and smiled tremulously at Mrs. Agnes. She held a soft spot in her heart for the housekeeper who’d cared for her in her wee years. At the housekeeper’s worried insistence, Juliet took a sip of the tea without tasting any of it, setting it back down on the tabletop hastily when she heard footsteps rushing from above.

When her grandmother returned, she carried a bundle of browning papers tied with a ribbon so old it had changed from crimson to the color of dried rust.

“These papers belonged to your grandfather’s family.” She set them carefully on the side table. “I came across them while sorting through his things after he died. I confess, I was not entirely certain what to do with them.”

Juliet leaned forward, her curiosity already stirred. The top sheet was stiff along the fold lines, and she could make out only impressions on the paper from the nibs of the pens used to write whatever was on it.

“What are they?” she asked, looking back up at her grandmother.

“These papers are a marriage contract,” Lady Worthington supplied briskly, already untying the ribbon and turning the document towards her. As it unfurled, Juliet noticed that the handwriting had already faded to brown.

“Your great-grandfather had made an agreement with another family, many years ago. They were very good friends and had hoped to maintain the good relations even after their deaths, but…” Her grandmother spread her hands. “It was never fulfilled and, with time, the whole business was simply forgotten.”

Juliet’s heart was pounding in her chest, her eyes flying wide as she took the document from her grandmother with trembling fingers. Her eyes flitted across the page, heart pounding everywhere: her chest, her throat, her temples.

“Grandmama, are you…Do you see the names affixed at the bottom?” She could not hold in her shock, nearly screeching in the process.

The old marchioness nodded. “Yes. The Ravenlocke duchy,” she confirmed, and Juliet gasped.

Then she deflated. “But…is it not a contract for marriage between their children? It never did work out, did it, and that is why the agreement was forgotten?”

Now, Lady Worthington smiled. “You silly girl. Look at the terms.” She pointed to a line in the paper. “It says, descendants. Not children.”

Juliet’s eyes widened again as she read over the clauses stipulated in writing. Grandmama was right.

“Since it says descendants, it is not a contract that is voided by time lapsing. And you are a descendant of your grandfather’s line,” Lady Worthington continued. “As of now, the Ravenlocke family has a living descendant who can honor this agreement.

She couldn’t quite believe it. Something like this existed! And with such a renowned family as Ravenlocke! And, of course, she knew of this living descendant…even though she only knew him reputation-wise, rather than by any kind of physical markers. The current Duke of Ravenlocke was both a widower and a recluse, and whispers among the ton said he was little more than a beast.

Juliet knew she could neither be picky nor care about his reputation. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she was most certainly a beggar. And yet…

“Grandmama,” she chose her words carefully even as her mind raced with possibilities, “this document is over fifty years old, if it is a day. Do you think anyone would listen to a woman spouting off about a marriage contract this many years old? He will send me away!”

Her grandmother seemed to realize that, but she only smiled softly. “He might,” she agreed, not flinching from it, “but listen to me first. The current Duke of Ravenlocke is a widower with a young daughter…Last I heard of him amongst the ton. By every account I have come across on his matter, he is rather serious, difficult, and thoroughly uninterested in society.”