is going to do no such thing,” Julia said firmly. She would not allow it. Her mother, Zoe, Nigel and Isobel were conversing with Diana and her younger sisters. The younger ones kept glancing over, looking nervous and curious.
“Have the drink, Sophia,” Grandmama insisted. “You will need it.”
At Grandmama’s firm words, Lady Worthington suddenly took a long sip. “I know what he is going to do,” she whispered. “He wrote a letter.”
“A letter? What did it say?” Julia asked.
“He threatened us. Simply because he had asked for money and we had the good sense to refuse him. His mother was a grasping, scheming creature. She is the reason my husband’s younger brother is dead.”
“Goodness, what happened?” Julia asked. “What did she do?”
The countess put her hand to her throat, to rest on the large diamond that sat there. At fifty, the countess wore a fashionable gown—blue silk with a loose, dropped waist, covered in thousands of tiny turquoise and indigo beads. The Worthington diamonds—huge, heavy and square-cut—glittered on her chest. “I can’t speak about it. It is enough to know he is a danger.” The countess grasped Julia’s hand. “You must not listen to a word he says.”
But the plea made Julia uneasy. She remembered Diana’s words—that the countess had reason to feel guilty. But the look in the woman’s eyes was pure terror. “What is it that you fear he will say?”
“He will tell you lies! Everything that boy says will be twisted and untrue. He will try to make you believe—” Lady Worthington stopped. Her hand clutched the center diamond of her necklace, as if clinging to it gave her strength. “That is not important. You, Julia, should have loyalty to us. Do not welcome him. Do not show him friendship. He will use you to destroy us. Do not forget that. You must be on our side.”
“Of course I am.” But the countess’s words seemed so...extreme. Surely the countess was too upset to go into dinner. Excuses could be made. Julia leaned toward her grandmother. “Perhaps I could take her upstairs—”
“No,” the countess cried. “I will not run and hide from Calvin Carstairs. I will protect my family from him. When you have children, you will understand...you would do anything on earth to keep them safe.”
And Julia understood. The countess had lost both her sons. She would not allow anyone to hurt her daughters.
“As soon as the boy is downstairs, we will go in for dinner.” The countess lifted her chin. Julia was amazed by the woman’s strength and spirit.
Until the countess directed a sharp gaze at Diana, standing across the room. “Sometimes you must do something rather terrible to protect those you love.”
Julia didn’t understand. She had never seen the Countess of Worthington like this. Lady Worthington was usually so gracious, so kind. The tragedy she’d suffered in losing both her sons had broken the hearts of people on the estate, for she was so well loved. When Julia had lost her brother Will to the influenza outbreak and her own mother had sunk deeply into depression, Lady Worthington had been like a mother to her and Isobel.
She had never dreamed Lady Worthington would push anyone into marriage—despite Diana’s warning that her mother would scheme to do it. She had thought Diana was exaggerating. Diana had always been dramatic. They had been such opposites—it was why they had always been great friends. “You can’t mean to force Diana into marriage—”
“I will do what must be done.”
“But not that. You cannot force Diana to be unhappy for the rest of her life—”
“Better that than poverty. Julia, this is not your concern.”
The sharp words stung. But the raw fear in her ladyship’s eyes startled her.
Yet it was wrong that both the countess and Diana wanted this marriage—it would be a disaster. It was something she felt she could not allow to happen, because it would only cause pain.
Yet, how did she stop it? It might be true that she had no right to interfere, but she also couldn’t stand aside and watch a disaster unfurl—
Wiggins’s stentorian voice suddenly cut over all sound. “The Earl of Worthington.”
From where she stood, Julia could see the entrance to the drawing room. The new earl stood in the doorway...
Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore an immaculate tuxedo jacket, black trousers and white tie. His hair was slicked back neatly with pomade, which darkened it to a rich amber-gold. The severe hair brought out the handsome shape of his jaw, the striking lines of cheekbones you could cut yourself on. Even from across the room, the brilliant blue of his eyes was arresting.
Beside her, a feminine voice drawled, “He was right—he does clean up rather well.” Diana had moved beside her, perhaps sensing her mother’s sharp glance. But Diana set down her empty glass then glided across the drawing room toward her cousin.
Julia had put out her hand instinctively to stop her friend. But she was too late. And what could she do?
She didn’t know how to be there for Diana. To be pregnant and unmarried was a nightmare.
Diana’s silvery laugh sliced through the room. She was right at the new earl’s side, smiling into his eyes, running her strings of glittering jet beads through her fingers. Flirting for all she was worth.
“What’s wrong, Julia?”
Zoe, looking lovely in a beaded dress of deep green with an emerald-and-diamond choker around her slim neck, came to her side.
She couldn’t talk about Diana’s secret, not even to Zoe. She smoothed her face into a look of ladylike placidity. “It’s nothing.”
“Do you really think Cal is the vengeful monster the countess paints him to be?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s not stopping the countess from pushing her daughters at him,” Zoe observed.
Julia watched Diana move so close to Cal her bosom pressed to his bicep. Cassia, tall and blonde like Diana, but only twenty-one, had approached him, too. She smiled demurely at him—Cassia was always gentle and sweet. The youngest daughter was Thalia: eighteen and bookish. And when Thalia looked as if she wanted to escape, her mother propelled her to talk to Cal.
Then Julia realized Cal was watching Lady Worthington. Just for a moment, then Diana ran her finger along his sleeve and got his attention again.
But Julia had seen the cold, hard rage that seethed in that one fast look.
“I think the countess might be right,” Julia said softly.
Zoe looked at her surprised.
Wiggins stepped in the drawing room and cleared his throat. “May I announce His Grace, the Duke of Bradstock. His lordship, the Earl of Summerhay. His lordship, Viscount Yorkville.”
Nigel immediately moved to greet his good friend Summerhay.
“Oh no.”
