rights?”
The incredulous note in Elizabeth’s voice made Juliette blush more fiercely. Pressing her hands to her flaming cheeks, she fled to the settee by the fireplace. For an instant, after blurting out the crazy notion Stewart had taken into his head, she had felt … perhaps not relieved but as if sharing her great fear had reduced it to bearable proportions.
Now she was aware of disappointment and, unreasonably, crossness. In retrospect, it seemed foolish that she had expected Elizabeth to understand or to know what to do. Elizabeth wasn’t married. In fact, she shouldn’t have talked to her at all. It was improper to mention the subject of marital relations to an unmarried lady.
But she simply had to talk to somebody . In the three weeks since Stewart’s return she had suffered bewilderment, hurt, guilt. She was not aware of wrongdoing but felt vaguely that somehow she was to blame for Stewart’s coldness.
She had planned to speak to Clive, had even asked him for a private interview, then had changed her mind. It would be so very awkward talking to a man. There was Fanny, of course. But Juliette was not on intimate terms with the young matron, who had married and removed from Stenton House scarcely a month after Juliette moved in.
And it was, of course, unthinkable to approach Stewart’s mama, even though Lady Astley was a perfect dear and closer to her—in spirit and in geography—than her own mother, who still resided at Government House in Calcutta and was giving dinners and card parties for the English officers and their wives and the more important officials of East India Company.
But even if by some miracle her mother had suddenly appeared in London, it was doubtful Juliette would have confided in her. In the seven years since her parents left, she had seen them twice. They had come to England for a six-month visit the year before her marriage and prior to that, they had arrived for a whirlwind stay of three weeks when they received the notice of the fourth duke’s death.
There had been some vague talk at the time of removing Juliette from Stenton House. The fifth duke—Clive was one-and-thirty then—was too young to have the guardianship of a sixteen-year-old girl, her papa had said. But it all came to nothing, because her mama felt that Juliette would be better off in London, where she could make friends with the girls who would be brought out the same year Juliette would make her curtsy to society. And it was unthinkable that Juliette should not have a Season in London, said Mrs. Rowland. For how else was she to meet eligible young men? The only young men in Calcutta were officers, and they, as everyone knew, were mostly younger sons and a rakish lot at that. No, Mrs. Rowland did not particularly want to see her daughter wed to an officer who’d be here today, there tomorrow, fighting some war or other.
Thus, Mr. and Mrs. Rowland had sailed back to India, and their daughter remained at Stenton House. At the right time, Juliette was dutifully brought out by some distant but well-connected Rowland cousin and promptly fell in love with Lieutenant Stewart Astley, home from service in India to recuperate from a lingering fever before he would join Sir John Moore in Portugal. And if that wasn’t ironic, what was? Except that Stewart was not a younger son, of course. He was an only child.
“Juliette!” Elizabeth spoke rather sharply. The girl sat motionless, sunk in gloom. This would not do at all!
She went to her young friend. “You must have misunderstood about the annulment. I do not see how it can be done. Or does Stewart plan to apply for a divorce by Act of Parliament?”
“No, he doesn’t.” Hope flared in Juliette’s eyes, then died. “But I did not misunderstand. Stewart is certain the marriage can be voided. It seems there is some old church law about … incapacity.”
Elizabeth blinked in astonishment. Stewart had lost an arm , not one of his nether parts!
“What shall I
The incredulous note in Elizabeth’s voice made Juliette blush more fiercely. Pressing her hands to her flaming cheeks, she fled to the settee by the fireplace. For an instant, after blurting out the crazy notion Stewart had taken into his head, she had felt … perhaps not relieved but as if sharing her great fear had reduced it to bearable proportions.
Now she was aware of disappointment and, unreasonably, crossness. In retrospect, it seemed foolish that she had expected Elizabeth to understand or to know what to do. Elizabeth wasn’t married. In fact, she shouldn’t have talked to her at all. It was improper to mention the subject of marital relations to an unmarried lady.
But she simply had to talk to somebody . In the three weeks since Stewart’s return she had suffered bewilderment, hurt, guilt. She was not aware of wrongdoing but felt vaguely that somehow she was to blame for Stewart’s coldness.
She had planned to speak to Clive, had even asked him for a private interview, then had changed her mind. It would be so very awkward talking to a man. There was Fanny, of course. But Juliette was not on intimate terms with the young matron, who had married and removed from Stenton House scarcely a month after Juliette moved in.
And it was, of course, unthinkable to approach Stewart’s mama, even though Lady Astley was a perfect dear and closer to her—in spirit and in geography—than her own mother, who still resided at Government House in Calcutta and was giving dinners and card parties for the English officers and their wives and the more important officials of East India Company.
But even if by some miracle her mother had suddenly appeared in London, it was doubtful Juliette would have confided in her. In the seven years since her parents left, she had seen them twice. They had come to England for a six-month visit the year before her marriage and prior to that, they had arrived for a whirlwind stay of three weeks when they received the notice of the fourth duke’s death.
There had been some vague talk at the time of removing Juliette from Stenton House. The fifth duke—Clive was one-and-thirty then—was too young to have the guardianship of a sixteen-year-old girl, her papa had said. But it all came to nothing, because her mama felt that Juliette would be better off in London, where she could make friends with the girls who would be brought out the same year Juliette would make her curtsy to society. And it was unthinkable that Juliette should not have a Season in London, said Mrs. Rowland. For how else was she to meet eligible young men? The only young men in Calcutta were officers, and they, as everyone knew, were mostly younger sons and a rakish lot at that. No, Mrs. Rowland did not particularly want to see her daughter wed to an officer who’d be here today, there tomorrow, fighting some war or other.
Thus, Mr. and Mrs. Rowland had sailed back to India, and their daughter remained at Stenton House. At the right time, Juliette was dutifully brought out by some distant but well-connected Rowland cousin and promptly fell in love with Lieutenant Stewart Astley, home from service in India to recuperate from a lingering fever before he would join Sir John Moore in Portugal. And if that wasn’t ironic, what was? Except that Stewart was not a younger son, of course. He was an only child.
“Juliette!” Elizabeth spoke rather sharply. The girl sat motionless, sunk in gloom. This would not do at all!
She went to her young friend. “You must have misunderstood about the annulment. I do not see how it can be done. Or does Stewart plan to apply for a divorce by Act of Parliament?”
“No, he doesn’t.” Hope flared in Juliette’s eyes, then died. “But I did not misunderstand. Stewart is certain the marriage can be voided. It seems there is some old church law about … incapacity.”
Elizabeth blinked in astonishment. Stewart had lost an arm , not one of his nether parts!
“What shall I
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