Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,33

Kitty exclaimed, right in front of her. “What daydream are you lost in?”

Blinking, Juliet forced a laugh. “I scarcely know.”

“You are covered in leaves and mud,” Kitty observed. “Where have you been so early?”

“Oh, just for a walk,” she said vaguely. “I woke early and had the urge to paint the sunrise.”

“Let’s see, then,” Ferdy said, taking the easel from her.

Drat, I gave it to Dan! “Oh, it didn’t work out. I threw it away. What time is it? Have you breakfasted?”

“No, because we went to find you first,” Kitty explained as they walked the last few yards to the house. “Only you weren’t in your chamber, which worried me because I know how all this must be affecting you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Juliet said, feeling guilty about enjoying her expedition so much. “Why were you looking for me in the first place?”

“Well,” Kitty said, lowering her voice. “Ferdy had it from his valet that Baron Miserly’s long-lost daughter has come home, and the whole neighborhood is agog to discover if he is dying, and what Papa might do about it.”

Juliet paused with one foot on the front step. “What in the world could Papa do about Lord Myerly dying?”

“Not Myerly, his daughter,” Ferdy said, impatiently. “She’s the one who jilted Papa and ran away with an officer.”

“Yes, but he can hardly do anything about that either,” Juliet pointed out, walking on up the steps and into the house. “It was more than twenty-five years ago, was it not?”

“Well,” Kitty said with a twinge of doubt, “it seems to be a question about whether or not she should be received by local families. Our people seem to think that Mama and Papa should let it be known that she shouldn’t be.”

“That would be vindictive, spiteful, and cruel,” Juliet exclaimed. “Worse even than was done to me. From Papa, it would also be paltry and mean-spirited. I hope he is not so petty.”

“Why such heat?” Ferdy asked in surprise. “We don’t even know these people. Well, except Papa, obviously.”

Juliet, tight-lipped, gave up her easel to the waiting footman and walked rapidly on.

“Juliet met the son,” Kitty explained. “On the stagecoach.”

Ferdy’s eyebrows flew up. “Did you, by God?”

“Shouldn’t you change before breakfast?” Kitty interrupted as Juliet turned automatically toward the breakfast room.

Juliet glanced ruefully at the bits of soil, bark, and grass-stains marring her walking gown, and gave in.

By the time she reached the breakfast room, dressed in a fresh, clean morning gown of sprig muslin, her parents had joined her siblings and were reading their correspondence, while Kitty and Ferdy made desultory conversation.

Her parents bade her a distracted good morning, and she helped herself to coffee and toast and a little smoked fish.

As she passed her father to sit down, she couldn’t help noticing the next letter in his pile, and her stomach twinged unpleasantly. It was directed in Jeremy’s hand.

“Is that all you’re eating?” her mother asked.

Since it was, in effect, her second breakfast of the morning, she really didn’t want any more. “For now,” she murmured.

“Hmm…”

Juliet sat and drank her coffee.

“I hear,” her mother remarked, “that Lord Myerly’s daughters are all with him.”

The earl grunted. “Dying, is he? They’ll be round him like vultures.”

“I thought I might leave cards at Myerly,” the countess said casually.

Juliet held her breath and picked at her fish while gazing at her father.

He threw down his letter and reached for the next. “You must do as you wish, my dear. I have no quarrel with Myerly’s daughters. In fact, if I ever quarreled with Myerly, I’ve forgotten why.”

The last was a lie, Juliet thought. He remembered perfectly well, though it possibly didn’t disturb him hugely.

“We are acquainted with the Cornwells in any case,” the countess observed.

His lordship did not respond, for he was rapidly scanning Jeremy’s letter. He scowled and threw it on the table, then picked it up and read it again.

“It’s from Catesby,” he said at last. “Jumped-up little…” He broke off, glancing at Juliet.

“Carry on, sir,” she invited. “Abuse him to your heart’s content.”

“What does he say?” her mother asked, hastily distracting his ire from Juliet.

“That he has already told his friends that Juliet preferred to go home to her family than to marry him.”

“That’s a terrible lie,” Ferdy growled. “No one will believe it.”

The earl gave an irritable shrug of one shoulder. “Nevertheless, we can believe it was kindly meant. It’s the next bit that sticks in my craw. In retrospect, he claims, he and his father