Damn him.
Why wasn’t Hamon answering the bloody door?
Colin pounded on the wooden barrier separating him from the only person who held the solution to the perplexing quandary that had plagued him for the hours since crossing paths with Juliana.
“Hamon, you miserable shabbaroon,” he shouted, his words slurring together. “I know you are here. Let me in.”
The door swung open mid pound. George, Hamon’s longtime butler, filled the entry, one hand gripping the folds of his banyan together at his throat, the other holding up a candlestick that cast his face in malevolent shadows, accentuating the severe downturn of his thin lips.
Colin took in his tousled salted midnight hair poking from beneath his askew nightcap and the dark puffiness beneath his bleary eyes. He’d woken George from his sleep. A twinge of contrition nipped at him for a moment, then dissipated. There was nothing to be done about it now. Yes, it was late, but this could not wait.
“Good evening your Grace.” Though his greeting was polite, George’s tone was anything but. “Lord Hamon would like for me to give you this.” He handed Colin a folded piece of paper.
Colin unfurled the sheet, finding a note hurriedly scrawled in Hamon’s hand. The words lept of the page and ran together, then twirled before his eyes. He brought the missive close to his face, then held it away, attempting to steady the moving text so he could read it before the jouncing made him lose the contents of his stomach.
“Get the fuck off my stoop,” he read aloud. He smirked, then peered up at the windows on the floor above. “Either let me in or so help me Hamon I swear I will wake every last one of your neighbors with my bellowing.”
“In that case, please follow me, my lord.” George left the door open and trudged toward the stairs. He shook his head, mumbling to himself.
Rude, swill tub, jingle brains, were all mutterings Colin suspected he heard. Colin straightened his hat before trailing the disgruntled butler inside.
Cantankerous old bloak. Conducting himself as if he’d been put upon by this visit. Oh right. He had, Colin reminded himself.
Colin entered Hamon’s private sitting room attached to his master suite a step behind George. He immediately shot a crooked grin at his friend reclining in his leather wingback chair before the unlit hearth, his elbow propped on the arm, and jaw framed by his long fingers. He raised an eyebrow, his glassy stare taking Colin in with as much interest as if he were a fly buzzing about a pile of dung.
“There you are, old man,” Colin beamed, unperturbed by the placid reception. He sagged into the chair across from Hamon’s. “You look rather comfortable.”
“As a man usually does when he is abed.” Hamon cleared his throat, removing the last lingering remnants of sleep.
“You were abed? So early? It can’t be much past midnight.”
“It is well past three in the morning.”
“Right you are.” Colin eyed the side board, seeking the decanter of rum Hamon kept in his private rooms. One should never discuss troubles with the fairer sex without the fortitude of strong spirits. The plentiful cups of alcohol he’d consumed at his club needed reinforcement. His eyes glinted with delight upon discovering his prize.
Tracing his line of sight, Hamon deciphered his intentions, then held up his hand in warning. “Don’t you dare.”
“Must you steal the joy from everything?”
Hamon’s expression darkened. “What. Do. You. Want?”
The torrent of menace exuding from his friend sobered Colin enough to get on with what he’d come to discuss. “I need your help.” He slumped further into his chair and entwined, then unlaced his fingers as he spoke. “Seeing Juliana tonight has rekindled things. Feelings I don’t know what to do with. I wanted to grovel. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to… to run away from the haunting anguish in her eyes when she looked at me. You are the more pragmatic one amongst the two of us. Tell me what I need to do to quell the turmoil burning within me.”
“You could start with drying out and never touching another drop of alcohol.”
Colin scoffed, dismissing the very notion. “Focus Hamon. I need a solution to this problem.”
Hamon released a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I bother with you.” He sat straighter, regarding Colin as if he were an overindulged youth he was loathed to address. “You’ve stated clearly what you want. What does Juliana want? Start there. Focus on Juliana and devise your future actions around her wishes.”
Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He mulled over Hamon’s advice. Consider what Juliana wanted.
She wanted a husband, else she wouldn’t have been at Lady Devonford’s ball. One of the premier hunting grounds of the Marriage Mart.
Yet thanks to those like Lady Eleanor, and in no small part his past failings, she did not believe herself desirable enough to achieve that goal.
Which was absurd. Juliana was worth more than all the simpering young ladies he’d met thus far this season. She studied the world around her, finding the beautiful details in everything that most overlooked. That’s what made her such a brilliant artist.
Her inquisitiveness drove her to see past what something was to what it could be. As she’d done with him. Seeing an honorable, courageous man he hadn’t seen in himself. One he used to strive to alway be for her, but had lost somewhere between the place he’d abandoned her and the battlefield.
Her hearing impediment did little to detract from her appeal. It had given him the privileged status of being the only other person to understand the unique language they’d created together. A treasure he’d hoarded in his splintered heart for the last four years.
She was a trove of riches and she wanted to share herself with another. An eventuality that would shatter him completely. But as Hamon said, it wasn’t about what he wanted, it was about Juliana. More importantly, she deserved a chance at happiness and even if he could not share in it, he could damn well ensure she obtained it.
“You’re right.” Colin nodded, his brows knit in concentration as the fullness of what he needed to do settled over him. “Juliana wants to marry. I should help her secure a proposal.”
Hamon’s eyes rounded. His hand fell away from his face, his lips parting. “What? How did you—“
“It’s genius. Truly inspired.” Colin nodded faster, fully embracing his mission. “I have no chance of winning her love again for myself, but perhaps by aiding her quest to marry, I can earn enough of her regard to establish a friendship. I may not have her heart, but at least she will return to my life in some capacity.”
“No. Herstshire, listen to me. That is a terri—”
Colin sprung from his chair and made to leave. “If you will excuse me. I have an infallible plan to devise. I will see Juliana married before the season’s end.”
Hamon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m too tired and you’re too drunk for me to argue with you further.” He lumbered from his chair like a man thrice his age. “Leave so I can return to my slumber and forget this deranged conversation ever took place.”
“Sleep well.” Colin dashed away, enthused to begin concocting his scheme to help Juliana secure a proposal. He couldn’t wait to share a solid strategy with her. He’d have to work to keep himself under control when accepting her gratitude.
Juliana sat on the sofa in the drawing-room, pricking her fingers again and again as she attempted to practice the needlework that Lady Roxburrow insisted upon filling the time with while they waited on callers. Not that any gentlemen visited her. She was damaged, and everyone knew it. A fact Lady Eleanor made very evident last night.
Lady Roxburrow paced in front of the unlit fireplace, tightly wring a kerchief through her clenched fingers. She finally stopped walking and sagged dramatically onto the chair opposite Juliana.
She tossed her head back over the chair’s headrest and draped an arm over her eyes. “What are we going to do?” she moaned, shaking her head. “We’re more than halfway through the season, and you’re no closer to finding a match than you were at the start.”
“You could ship me off to France and settle me in a small cottage in a remote village,” Juliana kept her voice neutral as if she hadn’t spent countless hours plotting her escape from London. “I won’t need much to live off of, and soon after I’m gone, people will forget I ever existed. The shame of me will be lifted from our family name.”
“Do not jest, girl. This is serious.”
Juliana placed her needlework aside, relieved to have an excuse to be rid of it. “I know it is, and I’m not.”
She truly wasn’t. After last night's debacle with Colin and Lady Eleanor, Juliana had absolutely no intention of ever showing her face in society again. Spinsterhood was no longer a possibility, it was an inevitability. Come what may, she would never put herself in a position to be so thoroughly humiliated ever again.
“I think it’s a perfect solution. We both know I will not secure a husband. I won’t need much to live on, and eventually, I might be able to earn enough with my paintings to no longer require anything from you. I only need a chance.”
Lady Roxburrow leaned forward, her rigid finger jabbing the air between them. “Now, you listen here. Lord Rox—”
A quick rap on the door halted the rest of what promised to be another of Lady Roxburrow’s long-winded speeches about a woman's duty of finding a husband, give him an heir, and running his household.
A footman stepped into the room and announced, “Pardon me, my lady. There is a caller here for Miss Drake.”
Juliana and Lady Roxburrow exchanged stunned glances.
Recovering first, Lady Roxburrow asked, “Who is it?”
“The Duke of Herstshire.”
Juliana choked on air. Apparently, her hearing had gone from poor to all together unreliable because there was no way Colin was currently at her door, requesting an audience with her.
Lady Roxburrow hopped out of her chair with a lithe swiftness Juliana hadn’t known her usually sluggish form possessed. She hurried over and stood behind Juliana, to create what Juliana assumed was meant to be a picture of a loving guardian encouraging her ward. Lady Roxburrow placed a hand on Juliana’s shoulder to complete the illusion.
“Hurry off then,” she said, shooing the footman out of the room. “Send him in.”
“Wait! No!” Juliana objected a little too late. The footman had already quit the room.
“Hush up, girl,” Lady Roxburrow hissed. Her grip tightened on Juliana’s shoulder. “You better be on your best behavior.”
Juliana’s stomach clenched, then collapsed in on itself when Colin walked through the door. The walls closed in on her, gradually squeezing the air out of the room.
He strolled in, his long strides erasing the distance between them a little too quickly. In the light of day, he looked as handsome and sinful as Lucifer himself. The sapphire-blue of his dress coat made his eyes glimmer like twin jewels. His—
Wait.
Juliana brushed the fog of infatuation aside and looked at him with sober eyes. His now wrinkled dress coat was the same he’d worn last night. Dark smudges underlined his eyes, which had a suspiciously glassy quality to them. His hat sat crooked atop his ruffled chestnut hair. And a light smattering of hair covered his chin and jaw.
He hadn’t been home.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he slurred.
He’s foxed!
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Lady Roxburrow crooned, ignoring his disheveled condition. “We are so happy you choose to visit us. To what do we owe this great honor?”
“I came to speak with Ju...” He cleared his throat in a blundering attempt to cover his slip. “Miss Drake. I came to speak to Miss Drake. If you would allow me the privilege.”
“Certainly!” Lady Roxburrow crooned. “I was just telling Juliana what a lovely day it is. Perhaps the two of you would like to take a walk?”
“That sounds like a splendid idea.” Colin turned to Juliana and bent at the waist, keeping his eyes cast down. “Miss Drake, would you do me the pleasure?”
No.
No.
Never again would she give him another second of her time.
“Of course she will,” Lady Roxburrow answered before Juliana could declare her true feelings. “Up, up, up.”
Juliana ignored Lady Roxburrow’s prompting, staying stationary a moment longer, frowning at Colin. A sharp pinch on the back of her arm from Lady Roxburrow coerced her into motion as the overtone of the room reached the peak of discomfort.
“It is a lovely day. A brisk walk sounds divine,” Juliana preened, her tone teetering on the edge of mockery.
She dipped into a curtsy, which ironically was one of the best she’d ever executed, then lead the way to the front door. Colin and Lady Roxburrow followed silently behind, the latter casting apologetic smiles at the former.
Juliana noticed while she retrieved her gloves and shawl that Lady Roxburrow didn’t do the same. “Would you like—”
“I hope you don’t find this too inappropriate, my lord,” Lady Roxburrow rushed out, cutting Juliana off. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead. “But I’ve been feeling under the weather since this morning. Would you be willing to go without me? I trust you are a man of honor and the two of you are already well acquainted. Plus, you will be in public, so no one can claim anything untoward occurred.”
“I find that perfectly acceptable.”
“Wonderful.”
Juliana thrust her hand into her glove with excessive force, her lips pressed into a thin line. Lady Roxburrow’s ruse was so wispy thin she might as well have saved herself the trouble of thinking it up. She could have spared them all the triviality and told him, ‘take my niece, and do with her what you will’.
Despite Juliana’s blatant objection to being forced to promenade in public with him, both Colin and Lady Roxburrow ignored her silent protests and carried on as if nothing were amiss.
“After you, Miss Drake,” Colin stepped aside, allowing Juliana to precede him out the door.
“Such a gentleman,” she sneered.
“Enjoy yourselves.” Lady Roxburrow waved after them.
Juliana marched down the steps and took a sharp right onto the road, not stopping to wait for Colin. She kept up a brisk clip, hoping the pace and his drunken ungainliness would cause the discontinuation of his scheme, whatever it was, and allow her to return home.
Colin jogged up to her, quickly closing the distance between them. Once beside her, he kept pace with her easily.
Damn his long legs and natural athleticism.
Juliana slowed her steps. There was no point tiring herself when her attempt to spite him had failed.
“Why are you here?”
Colin stopped and stepped to the edge of the walkway. He took hold of Juliana’s hand, forcing her to pause as well. A jolt of miserable joy exploded in her heart. She stared at their entwined hands, mesmerized and in agony over how wonderful this small gesture still felt, and the revelation of how much she missed it.
Colin followed the direction of her gaze and quickly released her hand. “Apologies.” He stepped directly in front of her, as he’d done many times in the past, to make sure she had an unobstructed view of his lips. “I know without your aunt’s prompting, you wouldn’t be speaking with me, so I will keep this brief. After I present my proposition to you, I will escort you home if you still wish to be rid of me.”
Juliana folded her hands behind her back. “Very well. What is your proposition?”
“First, I’d like to apologize for last night. Although well-intentioned, I made an unpleasant situation worse.”
“I accept your apology because propriety dictates I must,” she said coolly. “Please continue so we can be done with this moment.”
“I would like to help you find a husband.”
The ground beneath Juliana swayed. “You’d like to what?”