Read Online Juliana by Lauren Royal, Devon Royal - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lauren Royal, Devon Royal
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sale.” Considering the subject closed, Griffin gestured across the room. “I say, would you care to meet my sister?”
Revenge against Juliana might have to wait until after he found her a decent husband.
ELEVEN
EVERYONE WHO was anyone was at Lady Hammersmithe’s ball. Including James’s mother, Cornelia—the Dowager Countess of Stafford—and her older sisters, Aurelia and Bedelia.
In the refreshment room, James handed them all glasses of champagne. “How is your throat, Aunt Bedelia?”
“Better. But my chest has been paining me.” She put a narrow hand to her flat chest—Aunt Bedelia was as skinny as a rail. “Perhaps you should stop by Monday morning and have a listen.”
Doing his best to appear concerned, James sipped champagne. “Perhaps I’ll do that.”
“Certainly you will,” his mother said, but she softened the rebuke with a smile that reached her brown eyes.
Besides sharing James’s eyes, she had the same dark hair, and a trim figure for a woman of her years. Aurelia might be a mite plump, and Bedelia a bit too thin, but Cornelia was perfectly in between.
“Have you enjoyed the dancing this evening?” she asked her son pointedly.
“Am I supposed to?” he retorted. “I thought marriage was the object, not enjoyment.”
“Grandchildren are the object,” Aunt Aurelia put in. “And grandnephews and grandnieces.”
“Aha, the truth emerges,” James said dryly.
He wondered if his older brother had had to endure this sort of pressure. Probably not, else he would have taken a wife long before he passed away. Mother was a master of killing with kindness—she always got what she wanted in the end. She would get the grandchildren she wanted, too.
Eventually.
But for now, James would continue to sidestep her pointed questions, because the answers would only disappoint her. Of the handful of girls he’d danced with this night—and the dozens of girls he’d met this last year—he couldn’t imagine marrying a single one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to imagine marrying again at all.
The problem was, he’d had love and marriage once. So now one without the other—marriage without the love—just seemed plain…impossible. But a loveless marriage was the best he could do, because loving a girl who wasn’t Anne was unthinkable. Even the idea of it felt wrong, as though he was desecrating her memory.
Not that she would have objected. She was a generous and understanding person, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to be unhappy or lonely. If he’d asked her permission—which he hadn’t, of course—she would definitely have said he could fall in love with someone else after she was gone.
But that wasn’t going to happen. No matter which girls he danced with, all he could see was Anne’s pretty, loyal face shimmering before his eyes.
“I only want you to be happy,” his mother said.
“I know.” He also knew that she understood how he felt. Or at least she should. She’d also lost her life’s love, after all. “Why aren’t you dancing, Mother?”
“Me?”
Perhaps if he turned the tables, she’d realize she was pushing too hard. That he wasn’t ready. “Yes, you. “
Aunts Aurelia and Bedelia both tittered into their champagne.
“What?” he said, turning to challenge them. “Father has been gone longer than Anne. And your husbands have been gone even longer. All three of you should be dancing.”
The sisters exchanged startled glances. “We’re too old,” Aunt Aurelia said for all of them.
“Nonsense.” His aunts were not yet sixty, and his mother was only fifty-two. He put down his champagne, then took their three glasses and set them down, too. “Come along,” he said, taking Mother’s elbow and trusting her sisters to follow.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“To the ballroom, of course.” He grinned at her obvious dismay. “You’re not going to find a new husband while standing around the refreshment
Revenge against Juliana might have to wait until after he found her a decent husband.
ELEVEN
EVERYONE WHO was anyone was at Lady Hammersmithe’s ball. Including James’s mother, Cornelia—the Dowager Countess of Stafford—and her older sisters, Aurelia and Bedelia.
In the refreshment room, James handed them all glasses of champagne. “How is your throat, Aunt Bedelia?”
“Better. But my chest has been paining me.” She put a narrow hand to her flat chest—Aunt Bedelia was as skinny as a rail. “Perhaps you should stop by Monday morning and have a listen.”
Doing his best to appear concerned, James sipped champagne. “Perhaps I’ll do that.”
“Certainly you will,” his mother said, but she softened the rebuke with a smile that reached her brown eyes.
Besides sharing James’s eyes, she had the same dark hair, and a trim figure for a woman of her years. Aurelia might be a mite plump, and Bedelia a bit too thin, but Cornelia was perfectly in between.
“Have you enjoyed the dancing this evening?” she asked her son pointedly.
“Am I supposed to?” he retorted. “I thought marriage was the object, not enjoyment.”
“Grandchildren are the object,” Aunt Aurelia put in. “And grandnephews and grandnieces.”
“Aha, the truth emerges,” James said dryly.
He wondered if his older brother had had to endure this sort of pressure. Probably not, else he would have taken a wife long before he passed away. Mother was a master of killing with kindness—she always got what she wanted in the end. She would get the grandchildren she wanted, too.
Eventually.
But for now, James would continue to sidestep her pointed questions, because the answers would only disappoint her. Of the handful of girls he’d danced with this night—and the dozens of girls he’d met this last year—he couldn’t imagine marrying a single one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to imagine marrying again at all.
The problem was, he’d had love and marriage once. So now one without the other—marriage without the love—just seemed plain…impossible. But a loveless marriage was the best he could do, because loving a girl who wasn’t Anne was unthinkable. Even the idea of it felt wrong, as though he was desecrating her memory.
Not that she would have objected. She was a generous and understanding person, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to be unhappy or lonely. If he’d asked her permission—which he hadn’t, of course—she would definitely have said he could fall in love with someone else after she was gone.
But that wasn’t going to happen. No matter which girls he danced with, all he could see was Anne’s pretty, loyal face shimmering before his eyes.
“I only want you to be happy,” his mother said.
“I know.” He also knew that she understood how he felt. Or at least she should. She’d also lost her life’s love, after all. “Why aren’t you dancing, Mother?”
“Me?”
Perhaps if he turned the tables, she’d realize she was pushing too hard. That he wasn’t ready. “Yes, you. “
Aunts Aurelia and Bedelia both tittered into their champagne.
“What?” he said, turning to challenge them. “Father has been gone longer than Anne. And your husbands have been gone even longer. All three of you should be dancing.”
The sisters exchanged startled glances. “We’re too old,” Aunt Aurelia said for all of them.
“Nonsense.” His aunts were not yet sixty, and his mother was only fifty-two. He put down his champagne, then took their three glasses and set them down, too. “Come along,” he said, taking Mother’s elbow and trusting her sisters to follow.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“To the ballroom, of course.” He grinned at her obvious dismay. “You’re not going to find a new husband while standing around the refreshment
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