Duke Looks Like a Groomsman - Valerie Bowman Page 0,68
asked for you, my lady.”
Julianna stood. Whatever Miss Wharton wanted to say to her, Julianna had a feeling it would best be said in private. “Thank you, Stratham. Please show Miss Wharton into the white drawing room. I’ll just pop over.”
Without nothing more than a wave to her mother, who still sat amid the bouquets of flowers, Julianna slipped out of the door and made her way quickly across the hallway to the white drawing room. She settled herself on the chaise near the windows and rang for tea.
Seconds later, Miss Wharton entered the room, a tentative smile on her face.
“Good afternoon, Miss Wharton,” Julianna said, standing and smiling at the shorter young woman.
“Oh, I’m so pleased to see you, Lady Julianna,” Miss Wharton said. “Thank you for taking my call.”
“Of course,” Julianna replied, gesturing to the spot next to her on the chaise. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
Miss Wharton settled herself onto the seat before turning toward Julianna. “It may not be my place to say anything, Lady Julianna. And I do hope you’ll send me on my way if this news is unwelcome to you, but…I thought perhaps you should know that you and I have a mutual acquaintance who is quite distraught at the prospect of your upcoming marriage.”
Julianna arched a brow. Suspicion made her cross her arms over her chest. “Is our mutual acquaintance a duke, perhaps, Miss Wharton?”
Frances nodded. “He is.”
Julianna narrowed her eyes on the younger woman. “He didn’t ask you to come here, did he?”
Frances shook her head so resolutely one of her brown curls popped loose from her chignon and fell along her cheek. “No. Not at all. In fact, the truth is that if he or my intended, Lord Kendall, were to find out that I was here, I doubt either of them would be pleased.”
“Oh, Miss Wharton. Please forgive my rudeness. Best wishes on your upcoming nuptials. I’d read in the paper that you and Lord Kendall are to be married.”
“Thank you, Lady Julianna. And if you are rude than I am doubly so, for not only did I fail to wish you the best on your impending marriage, but I fear I may be bringing news designed to…if not stop the wedding, then stall it, perhaps.” Frances winced.
Julianna took a deep breath and folded her hands together in her lap. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Wharton. But without revealing personal details that I’d rather keep to myself, suffice it to say that the duke of our mutual acquaintance has made it quite clear that he is not interested in meddling in my affairs, specifically my upcoming wedding.”
Frances frowned and looked down at the carpet. “Oh…how can that be?”
Julianna tilted her head to the side and studied Miss Wharton. “What do you mean?”
“My apologies, Lady Julianna,” Frances replied, meeting Julianna’s gaze again. “You must think I’m the veriest scatterbrain, given my inept attempts at delivering this message properly. I’ve always admired you for your properness, your beauty, your family connections, and your manners. And here I am blurting out things you may not want to hear.”
Julianna sighed and looked away. “On the contrary, Miss Wharton. I’ve found more than one occasion to envy you of late. Most recently when your betrothed found it incumbent upon himself to stand atop a sideboard in front of Lord Clayton’s entire guest list and declare his love for you.”
Frances gave Julianna a sympathetic smile and reached over and patted her hand. “I can assure you, Lady Julianna, that what at the time seemed like a romantic gesture was anything but welcome to me that evening.”
“Are you quite serious?” Julianna blinked at her. She pressed her hand over her heart. “I thought what Lord Kendall did that night was the most romantic thing I’d ever witnessed.”
Frances nodded slowly. “I suppose we both have secrets we’d like to keep, but please believe me when I tell you that our mutual acquaintance, ahem, the duke, forfeited the bet after you left.”
Julianna’s eyes went wide. “Are you quite certain?”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Wharton continued. “Entirely certain. And I probably don’t have to tell you it was for an ungodly sum of money.” Frances lowered her voice. “One thousand pounds.”
Julianna gulped. Good heavens. She’d never guessed it had been for that much. And Rhys had forfeited? Not lost because someone recognized him? That certainly told her something. If he’d lost that much, he might well be too deeply in debt to ever recover. A twinge