Juliet had shared that with the duchess? How unfortunate. He hoped the duke would not count it against him. "I realize that seems a trivial thing in your society, working for one's living."
"On the contrary. I do not consider the matter trivial in the least. I wanted you to see that Juliet is capable of more than posing beautifully in your parlor or singing tears to your eyes."
He remembered how Juliet's song had lured him under her window that night. "Thank you." Juliet a businesswoman. He could not quite credit the idea.
She added in stern warning, "But do not tell her that I confided her secret in you. She wants no one to know."
"I can see no reason to keep this a secret. It is admirable enough. Though she doesn't do the work herself, she did manage to make an injured man a useful part of society — given that buttons are a necessary evil, according to my sister."
A flash of dismay crossed her features, and he was certain that she wished she had not told him. On a sigh, she said, "Consider — if you allow her to tell you this in her own good time, you will know that she has come to trust you."
Come to trust him? "Why should she not trust me? I am her husband."
The duchess did not wholly succeed in hiding her smile. "Do you dare tell me you trust or respect her?" She paused. "Yet."
He did not like realizing she was correct. "Your sister proved charming enough to lure me to break a longstanding habit of common sense. Once she proves herself capable of running a home and family, she will win my trust and respect."
There was a touch of sadness in her voice as she answered, "And how will you win hers?"
He paused a moment, to indicate how closely she trod to impugning his honor. "Surely you must agree that my actions prove me a trustworthy husband."
"Speaking a few vows proves little. You hold her happiness in your very hands. Just as she holds yours."
Happiness? Better safety or health — those he thought he could manage. But happiness? "I will do my best to make her life all that she could wish."
Her gaze searched his face, and then she gave a tiny nod. "I'm certain you will. And Juliet will do her best to be a good wife to you. She has a giving heart and can make you very happy."
R.J. could attest to one aspect of her giving nature. He had yet to see her heart, however. The very thought made him uneasy. "Fortunately, despite my recent indiscretion, I am a very reasonable man. I do not think that reasonable men are vulnerable to the emotional storms which cause one to be prone to unhappiness."
"I hope that you find you are wrong about that, R.J." She glanced at her husband, who was standing across the room, with great affection. "Sometimes I think it is when we learn how deeply it is possible to make one another unhappy, that we find the most satisfactory ability to make each other happy."
He tried to reassure her. "If Juliet creates no more scandals, graces my table, and bears me a son, I shall be well pleased with her."
His words did not please the duchess. She shook her head as if he had said something foolish. "There is more to marriage than well-pleased, Mr. Hopkins. I should have thought a man named Romeo would already know that."
* * * * *
Juliet stood for a moment in the doorway, trying to imprint the sight of her sisters at their daily routine into her memory to serve her until the next time she might see them. The air of gloom in the schoolroom surprised her. Had her mood transmitted itself up two entire floors into this usually sunny little room?
All their movements were listless. Rosaline had her paints, Helena, her sketch pad. Kate was curled up in the window seat with a book, and Betsey worked at her needlework.
She leaned against the doorjamb as the sorrow flooded through her. She would never see them this way again. They would grow into women while she was living in America.
Kate looked up a moment before Juliet regained her composure and saw her. With a little cry, her youngest sister leaped up and hurled herself into Juliet's arms, sobbing loudly. "I don't want you to go. Why can't you stay with us like Emily did when she married Valentine? They made a scandal, too, but they didn't have to go to America."
Rosaline threw her brush across the room and ignored Helena's appalled sound of disapproval. "Valentine and Emily didn't create their scandal because they went all crack-brained for each other, Kate. No. They had to deal with a murderer. All Juliet and her
Romeo
" — her emphasis was not entirely kind — "had to do was fight some romantic claptrap that made them moon mad for an evening. And they failed miserably at it."
Helena said moderately, "Rosaline, you don't ever wish to be married, so you don't understand — "
"Of course I do. Juliet actually believes she can live one of Miranda's silly fairy tales."
Juliet said sharply, "I most certainly do not. And who has been filling your heads with scurrilous gossip, anyway?"
Rosaline raised a brow. "Do you mean now that you are not around to tell us the latest juicy news?"
Helena sighed, closed her sketchbook, and placed it down. She rose to move over to Juliet and hugged her swiftly and hard. ''I'm going to miss you. We are wasting our last few minutes squabbling. Shame on us."
Rosaline, as if realizing how rude her words had been, said, "I'm sorry. But Juliet, you don't even know the man. Not to mention that he is an American."
Kate stopped her sobs to look up into Juliet's face and ask, "You wouldn't marry him if you didn't love him, would you, Juliet? I hate him because he's taking you away. But you don't, do you? Miranda says never to marry without love."
Juliet felt more awful than she had earlier. Should she allow them to believe she was happy with her marriage? With her husband?
Or should she tell them the truth? That sometimes to do something reckless, no matter the pleasure, creates more heartache than it is worth?
"Of course I love him." She was surprised to realize that she did not lie. She did love the man who had allowed his passionate nature to show. It was the rest of him that she was unsure of.
Rosaline made an unladylike sound of disgust. "Love. Who needs it. If a man ever dared climb in my window, I'd run him through."
Juliet hugged Kate to her and smiled at them all. "I am marrying a fine man. And America will be an adventure for me."
Rosaline frowned. "I do envy you the adventure. Boston. Do you suppose they are civilized there yet?"
"Of course they are." Look at poor R.J. Only civilization could do that to a man — pinch back the adventurous spirit that had allowed him to climb her trellis that night. To kiss her so that her mind ceased to function and her body came fully awake for the first time in her life. Even now he was ashamed he had done it. She could see the shame in his expression as he said his vows earlier.
"But it is so far."
"You will come for a visit. After all, the dowager duchess lives in America as well. No doubt Simon will bring you all for a visit with your American relatives." Juliet refused to think that she would not see them again soon.
Tears began in Kate's eyes, and Helena stepped up to take her gently by the hand. "Look, Kate. I have the next best thing for us. If we cannot have Juliet, we can have this sketch of her." She held out a quick drawing she had done of her sister in her wedding finery.
"You are a marvel with your pencils, Hellie." Juliet saw herself from her sister's eyes. Beautiful. Happy. Had she looked so? Or had Helena been influenced by her own dreams of fairy tales?
"I have one for you to take with you as well." She paged through her sketchbook and paused to rip out a sketch.
Helena had none of her twin's brash nature. Her concern that her work would not measure up was written in her expression as she handed the paper over, careful not to crinkle or mar it with her fingers.
Juliet kept her expression blank as she studied the paper. The drawing had obviously been worked on with love and care. Juliet could not suppress her gasp.
Helena had sketched all of them, Juliet centermost. In the drawing, Miranda sat upon an enormous toadstool, a book of fairy tales on her lap and the duke at her feet. Valentine stood sentinel over the family, just to her left, Emily at his side. Hero and Arthur were curled into each other, sharing a book between them. Juliet stood behind a balcony, a balcony where a very recognizable R.J. had curled a hand around the railing and was in mid-leap into her open arms.
The twins, Rosaline and Helena, posed by a tree, Rosaline high on a branch, Helena sitting with her back against the trunk, her sketchbook open in front of her. Kate curled up against a window, her hair ribbon askew, a smile upon her face that suggested that she had just committed some mischief or another. Even Betsey, the governess's daughter and an honorary sister, held out a bouquet of violets. They looked like children. But too soon they would not be. They would grow up without her to guide their music lessons.
Juliet gathered the sketch to her chest, her throat tight with tears she didn't want to shed in front of her sisters. "I am going to miss you all so much. Hellie, this is wonderful."
Looking at her sisters with tears in her eyes, Juliet tried to lock them in her memory forever. What had she done? Could it possibly be undone?
Miranda said softly, "Your guests are asking after you."
Juliet rolled the precious drawing that Hellie had done into a tight tube. "I would rather be here."
"Nonsense. You have an obligation." Valentine said sternly, as if he felt he must play the role of father, since their own was no longer living, "You must be a good wife, Juliet. It is time to put the impish games you played in the past aside."
She could not hide her fear. Not from them. "I don't know if I will be able to make R.J. a good wife."
"Of course you will," Miranda said quickly. "You and Hero ran Anderlin quite well after I married Simon. You are more capable than you know."
"I can certainly manage a household well enough." That only required a good housekeeper, after all. And R.J. must be able to afford such an expense, considering the gossip she had heard in London and the number of willing females vying for his attention despite his very uninterested and uninteresting nature. "But I don't know if I can be a good wife. What will he expect from me?"
Valentine treated her question seriously, much to her surprise. "He will expect you to behave yourself. He will expect you to think before you act now. He will expect you to treat him with respect and obey his wishes."
Juliet wondered miserably if she could do that. "As long as they are reasonable, I will."
Her brother nodded and kissed her cheek to comfort her. "I know you are frightened of the future, Juliet. But I have spoken to your bridegroom. He is a good man and means to be a good husband." His tone was bracing, as if to ward off further tears.
His words comforted her. She knew, however, that neither of them could answer her most important question. "What if I love him and he does not love me?"
"That would be most unfortunate." Miranda hugged her. "But other women survive such misfortune. He seems a good enough man. I don't think he will make your life miserable." Her sister linked arms with her. "Now, come down to share supper with your guests and show them you are not afraid of being a wife. After, we will have dancing, just for your pleasure."
"I can never refuse a dance." Juliet would not allow herself to cry at the less than comforting words. She did not care if he made her life miserable. She wanted what Miranda, Valentine, and Hero had with their spouses. She did not want a marriage that made do. She wanted one of passion.
She closed her eyes and made herself remember how it felt to be held in his arms. The passion she had seen in his Romeo. She squared her shoulders and allowed herself one sigh.
He might have the ability to be the husband she wanted and needed. But there was no doubt it would take work for her to mold him. Was she capable of such a daunting task?
R.J. was acutely conscious of Juliet's sadness, though she managed to keep a smile on her face during supper and gave every appearance of being a happy bride.
Freddie's fiancée, Elizabeth Forsdyke, had been looking daggers at her all through supper, but had said nothing. R.J. tensed when the duchess announced there would be dancing, in celebration of the new couple and Elizabeth pointedly rose and came toward Juliet, a tight smile on her face.
He would have steered Juliet out of her path, but for a knot of guests that blocked their way.
"Miss Fenster," she called.
Freddie, unhelpfully, corrected her. "Mrs. Hopkins, now."
Elizabeth smiled at him sourly. "Of course. Mrs. Hopkins. Juliet. You must be delighted that you will soon see America. I envy you." It could not have been clearer that she did not.
Juliet laughed. "No need for envy. You and Freddie should visit, after you are married. Perhaps on your wedding trip?"
R.J. noticed that Freddie and Elizabeth shared his startlement at Juliet's free use of Freddie's given name.
If Juliet noticed, she gave no sign. Gaily, she added, "After all, our husbands are good friends, are they not? I will be most happy to show you what I have found of interest in Boston."
Freddie grinned. "What a marvelous idea."
"Marvelous." Elizabeth looked as though she might growl.
R.J. knew just how she felt. The knot of guests ahead of them moved, and he took Juliet's arm. "I believe we lead out the first dance, my dear." He put a little emphasis on the endearment, unfamiliar though it felt on his tongue.
Juliet smiled flirtatiously at him, "Of course,
my love
."
She meant it mockingly, he could see that in the narrow set of her eyes, but the implications in the simple exchange of endearments made his heart race. He smiled, pleased to see her eyes widen as she, too, took in the implications. She was his wife.
He forgot Freddie, and his jealous fiancée, forgot Annabel and her forbidding frown, forgot his father. He took Juliet in his arms and led her into a waltz that left them both breathless by the time the musicians halted.