him.
“Marc, leave her be,” Hester said.
He would do no such thing. “Julianne, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“You cured my hiccoughs.”
“You seem to think the matter amusing,” he said in a terse tone. “But I assure you it is not. Did you consider your reputation?”
“Now, now,” Hester said. “I’m sure Julianne did not mean to overindulge.”
“My apologies. I did not realize her friends poured the wine down her throat,” he drawled.
“I refuse to answer such a ridiculous accusation,” Julianne said in a bitter voice.
“That’s just as well,” he said. “I’ve no intention of discussing the matter until you’re in a more sensible state.”
She whipped her face to the window.
He could hardly believe her capable of such deceit. But clearly she’d planned to hoodwink him, and she’d succeeded with her ruse. No doubt she believed him a soft touch. If she thought he would turn a blind eye to her rebellion, she would learn differently tomorrow.
The carriage rattled to a halt. Hawk descended and helped his aunt negotiate the steps. As Hester started toward the house, Hawk held his hand out for Julianne. She refused him and wobbled. Damnation! He grabbed her by the waist to prevent a fall and swung her down. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his fingers. “Stop resisting me.”
She averted her face. “Let me go.”
When the front door opened, Hester turned to look back at them.
“My aunt and the butler are watching. Take my arm,” he said.
Julianne took a step away. In one long stride, he caught her arm and marched her to the door. Just before they reached it, he leaned down and growled near her ear, “You’d better be prepared to grovel when I call tomorrow, my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.” An odd gurgle escaped her. Then she fled inside the house.
An hour later, Julianne dried her face and walked to the bed. Nausea had struck, and she’d gotten horribly sick.
Betty, the maid, had turned down the covers. After Julianne climbed into bed and pulled the covers to her chin, Betty frowned. “Miss, won’t you let me call Lady Rutledge? She ought to know you’re feeling poorly.”
Julianne cleared her sore throat. “Please do not disturb her. A night’s rest will see me well.”
The sheets smelled sunshine fresh, so at odds with the gloomy shadows in the room. Out of habit, she rolled onto her side and hugged the extra pillow to her chest—the same way she’d done every night since her first dance with Hawk at her come-out ball four years ago. And every night afterward, she’d imagined holding Hawk on their wedding night. Raw grief flooded her heart, and tears stung her eyes. She pitched the pillow aside. There would never be a wedding night for them.
She rolled onto her stomach and sobbed into her pillow. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She’d worn her heart on her sleeve. Even Hester had noticed.
Damn him. A dozen gentlemen had proposed to her, but she’d turned them down because she’d wanted to wait for Hawk.
She hated him. Hated the man she’d thought of every single day for four years. The man she’d fantasized about night after night. She’d tumbled head over heels for him and made him the focus of her whole life. And tonight he’d cut her heart to pieces.
The door creaked open. “Oh, child,” Hester cried out.
When the mattress sank beneath Hester’s weight, Julianne peeked out from the pillow. The flame from Hester’s candle wavered on the bedside table.
Hester rubbed her back. “Tell me what is wrong?”
Pride kept her silent.
Hester rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table and produced a handkerchief. “Betty came to me because she is worried about you.”
Julianne rolled over and blew her nose. “I asked her not to disturb you.”
“Now, that is foolish. You must tell me when you are troubled,” Hester said.
Julianne swallowed. “I’m sorry about the wine.”
“I know.” She paused and
“Marc, leave her be,” Hester said.
He would do no such thing. “Julianne, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“You cured my hiccoughs.”
“You seem to think the matter amusing,” he said in a terse tone. “But I assure you it is not. Did you consider your reputation?”
“Now, now,” Hester said. “I’m sure Julianne did not mean to overindulge.”
“My apologies. I did not realize her friends poured the wine down her throat,” he drawled.
“I refuse to answer such a ridiculous accusation,” Julianne said in a bitter voice.
“That’s just as well,” he said. “I’ve no intention of discussing the matter until you’re in a more sensible state.”
She whipped her face to the window.
He could hardly believe her capable of such deceit. But clearly she’d planned to hoodwink him, and she’d succeeded with her ruse. No doubt she believed him a soft touch. If she thought he would turn a blind eye to her rebellion, she would learn differently tomorrow.
The carriage rattled to a halt. Hawk descended and helped his aunt negotiate the steps. As Hester started toward the house, Hawk held his hand out for Julianne. She refused him and wobbled. Damnation! He grabbed her by the waist to prevent a fall and swung her down. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his fingers. “Stop resisting me.”
She averted her face. “Let me go.”
When the front door opened, Hester turned to look back at them.
“My aunt and the butler are watching. Take my arm,” he said.
Julianne took a step away. In one long stride, he caught her arm and marched her to the door. Just before they reached it, he leaned down and growled near her ear, “You’d better be prepared to grovel when I call tomorrow, my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.” An odd gurgle escaped her. Then she fled inside the house.
An hour later, Julianne dried her face and walked to the bed. Nausea had struck, and she’d gotten horribly sick.
Betty, the maid, had turned down the covers. After Julianne climbed into bed and pulled the covers to her chin, Betty frowned. “Miss, won’t you let me call Lady Rutledge? She ought to know you’re feeling poorly.”
Julianne cleared her sore throat. “Please do not disturb her. A night’s rest will see me well.”
The sheets smelled sunshine fresh, so at odds with the gloomy shadows in the room. Out of habit, she rolled onto her side and hugged the extra pillow to her chest—the same way she’d done every night since her first dance with Hawk at her come-out ball four years ago. And every night afterward, she’d imagined holding Hawk on their wedding night. Raw grief flooded her heart, and tears stung her eyes. She pitched the pillow aside. There would never be a wedding night for them.
She rolled onto her stomach and sobbed into her pillow. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She’d worn her heart on her sleeve. Even Hester had noticed.
Damn him. A dozen gentlemen had proposed to her, but she’d turned them down because she’d wanted to wait for Hawk.
She hated him. Hated the man she’d thought of every single day for four years. The man she’d fantasized about night after night. She’d tumbled head over heels for him and made him the focus of her whole life. And tonight he’d cut her heart to pieces.
The door creaked open. “Oh, child,” Hester cried out.
When the mattress sank beneath Hester’s weight, Julianne peeked out from the pillow. The flame from Hester’s candle wavered on the bedside table.
Hester rubbed her back. “Tell me what is wrong?”
Pride kept her silent.
Hester rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table and produced a handkerchief. “Betty came to me because she is worried about you.”
Julianne rolled over and blew her nose. “I asked her not to disturb you.”
“Now, that is foolish. You must tell me when you are troubled,” Hester said.
Julianne swallowed. “I’m sorry about the wine.”
“I know.” She paused and
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