Unraveled By The Rebel by Michelle Willingham

Beatrice’s tone sharpened. “Do you know how many hours I spent, trying to make them right again?”
    “I’m sorry. I should have confessed the truth to you. We truly thought the extra money would be of use.”
    Her mother let out a sigh. “I know, darling. But I don’t want to burden you with household matters when you’re so young. There will be time enough for that when you’re married.” She stood,clasping her hands together, mustering a smile. “This is the time when you should laugh and dance… wear lovely frocks and flirt with handsome gentlemen.”
    Her mother’s face grew wistful, and Juliette remembered that Beatrice had not done those things herself. She’d married an officer, because Henry Andrews was the only man to offer for her.
    “You’ll never find a gentleman to wed if you spend your hours buried in accounts,” Beatrice insisted. “You may be good with adding sums, but it’s no life for a lady.”
    “It has its uses,” Juliette ventured. Putting on a false smile, she added, “In case a handsome rake with a penchant for gambling decides to ask for my hand.”
    At last, her mother’s face softened. And Juliette realized that this was all a distraction for Beatrice. Finding husbands for her daughters meant that she could escape her own problems. How many years had it been since her mother had enjoyed her own life? Juliette couldn’t remember the last time Beatrice had bought trinkets for herself.
    Beatrice stood and brushed a lock of hair from Juliette’s temple. “When you return to London, His Grace has promised to use his influence on your behalf.” She reached out and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “It was part of our agreement when he asked to wed Victoria. You’ll have a Season and all the opportunities I never had.”
    Juliette understood, then, that although her mother wanted to maintain her pride when it came to rebuilding the house, Beatrice had no qualms about accepting help with achieving social status for her daughters.
    “Promise me you’ll try to find a husband,” Beatrice pleaded. “And not Dr. Fraser, much as he might wish to court you.” Her face flushed, as if she didn’t mean to insult the man. “He’s a good physician, don’t mistake my meaning. But Juliette… he’s not for you.”
    “Paul and I are friends,” she said absently. “Nothing more.”
    “Then you might remind
Dr. Fraser
of that,” Beatrice corrected in a subtle admonition that it was improper to call him by his first name. “He tried to pay a call on you earlier today, but I told him you were not receiving.” She raised an eyebrow. “That
was
what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
    Her mother’s assumption wasn’t unfounded, from all the calls Juliette had refused in the past few weeks. But even as she shrugged in reply, a prickle of regret tumbled within her. Almost as if she wanted to see Dr. Fraser again.
    She excused herself, kissing her mother’s cheek before she left. Without really knowing why, she went to retrieve a woolen coat and a bonnet. She dressed herself warmly and donned boots to protect her from the snow. Outside, the air was crisp, the sun gleaming across the stark winter landscape. The mountains pierced the blue sky, while more snow blanketed the stony peaks.
    Against the fence, she saw Paul waiting for her. Her heart stumbled at the sight of him, for she’d expected him to give up. He was watching her, his midnight-blue eyes holding an enigmatic expression. They were bloodshot, as if he’d not slept the night before.
    Why was he here? Juliette crossed through the courtyard and saw that he’d worn a tartan today, his hands tucked inside the brown and green patterned wool. Dressed like a Highlander, he appeared less civilized than he had the night before.
    “Good morning,” she greeted him, her breath frosting in the air.
    “And to you.” His gaze passed over her, from her hair down to her boots. She clutched her coat tighter, not knowing why he’d