Page 17 of To Wed a Wild Scot
He hadn’t answered any of those letters. Not one.
She raised her gaze to Logan Blair. She couldn’t explain why she needed to see his face, but some instinct made her seek him out. He was standing in front of the window, his back to them, his shoulders stiff. He’d withdrawn as soon as Fitzwilliam entered the room, but Juliana knew he was listening to every word that passed between them.
He didn’t turn, and Juliana brought her gaze back to Fitzwilliam. “Nothing has happened to Grace yet, but it will if I can’t find a way to stop it. I need your help, Fitz, rather urgently.”
“Yes, of course. You know I’d do anything for you, Lina.”
“My father is refusing to make me Grace’s testamentary guardian as long as I remain unmarried.” Juliana struggled to keep her voice steady. Whenever she thought of the fate that awaited Grace if she didn’t secure a husband, her heart stuttered in her chest, and her entire body started trembling.
“You’re not married? I thought…I had a letter from Lord Madsen several months ago, and he said you were betrothed to Lord Pierce.”
Juliana stifled her groan. She’d been hoping he hadn’t heard that particular piece of news, but she should have known better. She and Hugh hadn’t announced their betrothal or had the banns read, but it seemed every person within ten miles of Graystone Court was intimately acquainted with her business nonetheless. “We were betrothed for a short time, yes, but he, ah…he isn’t my husband. We didn’t marry. He fell in love with another lady, and I couldn’t bear to…well, she’s lovely, and they’re very happy together.”
Fitzwilliam’s face darkened. “You mean to say he jilted you?”
“No, no.” The last thing she needed was for Fitzwilliam to fall into a fury over Lord Pierce. “Indeed, you can’t blame Lord Pierce. He didn’t jilt me. It was quite the opposite, really. I’m fond of him, as you know, and I couldn’t bear to be the one who stood in the way of his marrying the lady he loved.”
If she’d known what would happen when they returned to Graystone Court, she might not have taken such a romantic view of it. Those as desperate as she was had no business being generous.
Fitzwilliam was shaking his head, trying to make sense of it all. “Then you’re not married?”
“No, I’m not, and I…I need to be, Fitzwilliam. As soon as possible. Otherwise I’m going to lose Grace.”
All the color drained from Fitzwilliam’s face. Juliana half-rose from her chair, alarmed. “Fitzwilliam? Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. Perfectly well.” He urged her back into her chair, but avoided meeting her eyes. “None of this makes sense, Lina. Why should your father wish to take Grace from you? Since Jonathan’s death, you’ve been like a mother to that child.”
Tears once again pressed behind Juliana’s eyes, and she bit her lip hard to keep them at bay. Now she was back with Fitzwilliam at last, it was tempting to simply lay her head on the broad chest that had so often been her comfort when she was a child.
But she wasn’t a child any longer.
She swallowed her tears, and raised her chin. “You don’t understand. You know how grief-stricken he was after Jonathan died, but since his most recent attack, it’s become much worse. He’s not himself anymore. His mind is weak, and he falls prey to all sort of fears and delusions. I should have seen at once how it was, but it came on so gradually I didn’t understand how much he’d deteriorated until he threatened to take Grace away from me.”
Fitzwilliam dragged a hand through his hair. “I can’t fathom it, Lina. I can’t conceive of your father doing something so cruel.”
“He doesn’t understand he’s being cruel. He thinks he does it for my own good. I’m his youngest daughter, Fitzwilliam, and his only remaining child. If he were in his right mind he’d never dream of taking Grace from me, but his wits often wander. He flies into rages, and he forgets things. Sometimes he talks about Jonathan and Emma as if they’re still alive.”
“Perhaps if I wrote to him, tried to reason with him—”
“No. Even when he’s lucid he can’t be reasoned with. He’s afraid, both for himself and for me and Grace. He’s made his wishes very clear in his will, and until I can present him with a husband, he refuses to change it. He can’t be made to understand I could have any difficulty securing a spouse.”
Juliana didn’t quite understand it herself. A lady who’d been betrothed not once but twice had reason to suppose she’d marry eventually, but with one thing and another…
With one thing and another, her first betrothed had fled to Scotland, and her second had fallen in love with another lady. Juliana couldn’t make herself regret giving up Hugh to Isla Ramsey—how could she? Hugh was her friend, and no two people could be more in love than Hugh and Isla.
But it had been a rash thing to do, and now she was paying the price for it.
Her selflessness in releasing Hugh from their betrothal had not been rewarded. There didn’t seem to be a single gentleman in England who cared to marry her—at least, not one she’d consider marrying—and now Grace’s future was hanging in the balance.
Fitzwilliam rose from his chair with a jerk and began pacing in front of the fireplace. “What happens to Grace if you don’t marry?”
Juliana paused. Dear God, how to explain it? This entire mess with her father’s will had been a nightmare from the beginning, but this part was by far the worst of it. She dreaded telling Fitzwilliam, but there was no help for it. He must be made to understand how dire things were. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself. “Lord Cowden gets her.”
Fitz stopped pacing and turned to her, horror on his face. “No, Lina. It can’t be. Nothim.”
The now-familiar wave of helplessness rolled over Juliana, stealing her breath. It was the same thing she’d said to herself, over and over again.
It can’t be him. Anyone but him…
