Page 29 of Not Just Any Earl
The trick would be in getting Juliet and Lord Melrose to fall in love with the least amount of risk possible.
There was no question of lying to Lord Melrose about the Lady in Lavender, or attempting to persuade him it had been Juliet he’d kissed in the library. Emmeline would never lie about such a thing, or try to trick a gentleman into marriage.
But she wouldn’t need to lie to anyone. Juliet and Lord Melrose were predisposed to become enamored of each other. Once they did, everyone would forget all about this foolishness with the Lady in Lavender.
Really, when one looked at it scientifically, wasn’t a match between Juliet and Lord Melrose simply setting things back in order, so they might progress as they were meant to from the start? It should have been Juliet in that library with him, not Emmeline. She was an anomaly, a mutation, a flaw in the experiment that should have been corrected before it could happen.
And it wasn’t as if Lord Melrose had a particular longing for her. He’d cast her more than a passing glance at Floris, yes, but he still hadn’t the vaguest idea she was the lady he’d kissed last night. He wasn’t likely to ever figure it out, nor did Emmeline wish him to.
She wasn’t destined to become a countess. She’d never flourish in the brightest patch of sunlight in the garden. She was meant to remain at Hambleden Manor, digging in the dirt for the rest of her days and breeding her father’s roses.
She’d never minded being alone, but Juliet couldn’t be happy with such a solitary existence. She must have people around her, a life filled with sound and color and romance. With every lonely day that passed at home, Juliet grew more despondent, her plans for the life she’d always dreamed of withering on the vine.
She deserved happiness far beyond what she could ever find at Hambleden Manor—far beyond what she could hope for from a marriage with Lord Boggs. If Juliet married Lord Melrose, she’d have all the society she could ever wish for, and a doting husband besides, and it would put a quick end to any possibility of a match between Juliet and Lord Boggs.
“Is that what you’d have me believe, Emmeline? That this is all a coincidence?”
Emmeline dragged her attention back to her sister. “I…yes, I suppose it must be.”
Her cheeks heated with shame at the lie, and she had to look away from the disappointment in Juliet’s eyes.
“Very well. If you change your mind and decide you do wish to tell me something, I’ll be more than happy to hear it.” Juliet reached for Emmeline’s hand, squeezed it, and without another word, quietly withdrew.
Emmeline remained alone in the carriage for a long time after that, thinking. When she did rouse herself to go inside and passed the round gilt table in the entryway, she came to a stop. There, right in the center of the marble top sat an enormous spray of pink hothouse roses that had arrived while they were out.
She plucked up the card from the table.
They were for Juliet, from Lord Boggs, with a request that she save him her first two dances at Lady Emory’s ball that night.
Juliet, and Lord Boggs.
No. It was out of the question. A marriage between them would be as much of a disaster as a marriage between Emmeline and Lord Melrose.
The card fluttered from her fingers and fell to the floor. She slid it under the table leg with her foot, then turned and slowly mounted the stairs.
Tomorrow, they’d all visit Lady Finchley’s rose garden, the ideal setting in which to nurture a fledgling romance. Emmeline would find the rose she needed to complete the perfume, and Juliet and Lord Melrose would discover they were meant for each other.
Everyone would get what they wanted.
For two people as perfectly matched as Juliet and Lord Melrose, falling in love would be the easiest thing in the world.
Chapter
Eight
The sky above was a glorious, celestial blue, the sun’s rays were bright and warm upon the ground, and every breath they took was sweetened with the honeyed scent of Lady Finchley’s roses.
Wasn’t love meant to happen on just such a day, and in just such a place? Conditions were ideal for a budding romance to germinate and grow, but Emmeline had never seen two utterly irresistible people more determined to resist each other than Juliet and the Earl of Melrose.
They didn’t appear at all interested in becoming besotted. Emmeline had held her breath every time Lord Melrose addressed Juliet, searching his face for any sign that he was already infatuated with her vivacious sister, but his expression revealed only polite, detached interest.
As for Juliet, if anything, she was worse than Lord Melrose. Oh, she was as charming and lively as ever, but she’d hardly spared Lord Melrose a glance, instead reserving her most dazzling smiles and sparkling conversation for Lord Cross, who seemed not to have the vaguest notion what to do with them, or her.
Juliet hadn’t even noticed the way Lord Melrose’s smart navy coat made his eyes look so impossibly blue, Emmeline wished it were possible to breed blue roses, so she might create one just that same shade of cornflower.
Blue roses, of all absurd things. They didn’t even exist in nature.
None of this made any sense. Why couldn’t they just get on with falling in love, so Emmeline could return to the safety of her own walled garden at Hambleden Manor?
