Juliana stared, dumbfounded, at the man before her. In what realm of reality did Colin think that helping her hunt for a husband was a good idea? Instead of fulfilling his previous promises and loving her as he'd claimed he always would, he'd rather help her marry another.
Her heart broke anew.
His brow furrowed in concern. “I’m sorry. Did I not speak clearly enough? I confess to recently consuming a generous amount of alcohol, which is hindering my ability to control my cadence.”
“No, my ears picked up the words emitted from your mouth, but they were so absurd, my brain can’t comprehend them.”
“What is so absurd about my suggestion?”
Where should she begin? The list was so vast she couldn’t decide. Of the many reasons, though, the most glaring being that she still loved him. Though he didn't know that.
The thought of him trying to pawn her off on another man made her feel foolish. Her flame still burned for him, while his love had extinguished a long time ago.
Which begged the question, why did he want to embark on this foolhardy mission? The query clung to the roof of her mouth, refusing to leap forth into existence because she didn’t know if she was strong enough to hear the answer.
“How will you help me find a husband? And more importantly... Wh—Why do you wish to do so?”
Colin bowed his head like a petulant boy, recounting his misdeeds in front of an incensed governess. “Because I owe you that and so much more. I can never fully atone for treating you so horribly in the past. But I can help you secure a pleasant future.”
Juliana jerked as if she’d taken a right hook to the heart. Repentance—not love. He wanted a clear conscience, no doubt, so he could move on and marry some flawless young lady without contrition over how he’d left things with her.
She crossed her arms over her chest, a volcano of resentment bubbling up inside her. She might as well hear the rest of his outlandish plan. To learn what he thought wrong with her and how he planned to fix her so she could make a match.
“And how do you propose to help me procure a husband?”
“I will teach you how to be more desirable.”
Juliana’s mouth fell open. Her head snapped back, then tilted to the side as she regarded him with revulsion. “I believe I am more offended now than I was last night.”
Colin held up his hands in surrender. “Apologies. My mind is not performing at an optimal pace right now.”
“Evidently.”
“What I meant is that I will teach you what will attract a man’s attention. Any man. You will have your pick of proposals.”
It was possible that her pride might not survive much more of this conversation. He had admitted she was undesirable and wanted to help her become so to attract someone else's attention. The insult was almost too much to bear.
“I will never have my pick of proposals. I know next to nothing about running a house, nor do I want to learn. My skin is several shades too dark for most Englishmen’s tastes. And my hearing is sub-par at best. No respectable gentleman of note will want me when he can have a perfect, unblemished English rose.”
Colin had the nerve to become indigent. His cobalt-blue eyes sparked with disappointment and ire. “Do not speak so poorly of yourself in my presence ever again.”
Juliana sneered in derision. “You’re the one who thinks I need to be fixed to secure a marriage contract.”
“That’s not—”
“I like myself as I am. Truly I do. But the past has taught me to remain realistic above all else in matters such as these. Did it ever occur to you to ask what I want before concocting this ludicrous scheme? Whether or not I wished to marry? What if I wanted to travel the world and become a painter?”
Colin removed his hat and raked a frustrated hand through his rumpled hair. “You’re being unreasonable. You said you are realistic above all else,” he mocked. “With what money will you do this traveling?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll become a working woman,” she tossed out haughtily. Her lips thinned into a scornful smirk. “Or a courtesan. I'll use men like you who can’t resist an upturned skirt to pay my way across the continent.”
She didn't have the constitution to do such a thing, but seeing the hellfire and brimstone reflected in Colin's hard glare made the threat worth uttering.
His face flushed a deep crimson. “The devil, you will! I’d kill every man who dared to touch you.”
Juliana scoffed at his show of possessiveness. The man was insufferable. “So you’ll help sell me off to one man, but won’t allow me to sell myself to whomever else I choose? How chivalrous of you.”
“You are twisting my words. I came here with good intentions.”
“Yes, and hell is full of them,” she shouted.
“Damn you, woman!”
Several onlookers had slowed their pace or had come to a complete stop to watch their spat. Quarreling with the new Duke of Herstshire in such a public scene would create a new hurdle in her matrimonial crusade. Arguing wasn’t a very ladylike behavior. Her aunt would have her head for it later, but Juliana cared not.
Her scowl deepened. “There’s the callous blaggard I knew was under all those good intentions.”
“Why are you being so difficult?”
“Because you don’t deserve to feel better about what you did to me,” she hissed. An irritating crop of tears formed on her lashes, but she angrily wiped them away. “You asked me to run away with you to Gretna Green, but didn’t show up the day we were supposed to leave. I waited all day. I waited hours after the sun had set. In the darkness. Alone. You abandoned me. I will never give you my forgiveness. You can never redeem yourself from that.”
Juliana spun around and broke into an unladylike run.
Why here?
Why now?
Of all the times Colin could have shown up over the years, why did it have to be now? When she was trying to navigate her uncertain future. He was ruining everything. Dredging up emotions, she didn’t have the time or desire to confront.
She’d be damned if she took his help, even if it meant a life of spinsterhood. Anything would be better than groveling to that scoundrel.
Juliana dragged her weary body up the last few stairs and internally cheered when she saw the door of her bedchamber. The emotional strain of fighting with Colin had stolen all of her strength. She felt as if she could crawl beneath her covers and sleep for an eternity.
“You ca—t be se—ous? Bar— Crom—l?”
Lady Roxburrow’s disgruntled voice carried from the open door of her sitting room. Juliana couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, and normally she’d never listen in on their conversation, but something propelled her forward. She stopped outside the door and listened closely. Her vantage point gave her a clear view to read their lips, though neither of them could see her.
“He’s nearly three times her age. She’d be miserable.”
“She’d be fed and provided for. That’s all that matters,” Lord Roxburrow countered sternly.
“But—”
“No arguments. I’ve given you time to do it your way. I let her have a season, bought her a new wardrobe to prance around in as if it would make any difference. The girl is deaf and from distasteful origins. No gentleman wants her.”
“She’s not deaf. And your brother married her mother. She is legitimate and a subject of the Crown. There is nothing distasteful about that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Surely, there must be another option. Perhaps I can speak to—”
“You can waste your breath speaking to whomever you choose, but it will not change my decision. At the end of the season, if she is still unwed, as I know she will be, she will marry Baron Cromwell, and we will be done with her.”
“Very well,” Lady Roxburrow conceded.
Baron Cromwell? Lord Roxburrow intended to marry her off to that miserable old man?
Juliana doubled over, placing one hand on her knee, the other clutching her stomach. Her entire body trembled. Bile rose in her throat, forcing her to continuously swallow it down.
Rumors abounded about the way Baron Cromwell had mistreated his first wife when she’d failed to produce an heir. Some even suspected foul play in her demise.
Juliana would rather die than marry that villain.
Or—She could humble herself before Colin and accept his offer.
She needed to lie down. Juliana crept away and hurried to her room, but not quickly enough.
“Juliana,” Lady Roxburrow gasped, catching her as she opened the door to her chamber.
Their eyes met over the distance, one set filled with guilty remorse, the other with anguish. Both of them understood the helplessness of the other. Juliana stepped into her room and quietly closed the door, severing the tether of understanding all women of marriageable age understood: your life was not your own.