Page 10 of Juliet's Touch

It took all of Juliet’s discipline not to leap out of her seat and twirl around the parlor.

“Well, what does she say?” Mother asked.

Juliet cleared her throat and read her precious letter aloud. Once she finished, she met Mother’s skeptical gaze. “May I go?”

Unfortunately, Mother would never agree to the visit since she thought the Marquess of Chesterhill to be scandalous, fretting constantly that Emily had married his son. Papa would be easier to convince since he considered Lord Chesterhill his oldest and dearest friend.

“Please, Papa,” Juliet pleaded.

“I don’t see how we can say no to the Marquess,” he said.

Juliet sprang from her seat and threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you, Papa.”

“What about Lord Riley and planning your wedding?” Mother asked.

“I am certain he won’t mind if I visit my sister for a fortnight,” Juliet said as she took her seat. “We can plan the wedding as soon as I return.”

Mother exhaled dramatically.

“For God’s sake, Theodosia. Let the girl visit her sister,” Father said. “She should have one last sojourn before she marries and has an estate full of babies.”

An estate full of babies sounded like a lot of tiny humans to care for. Juliet rubbed at the burn in her esophagus.

“Very well,” Mother conceded. “But as soon as you return, we must finish planning the wedding breakfast. The Rileys will expect nothing less than the best.”

Father winked at Juliet, then returned to his newspaper.

Mother loudly cleared her throat. “Dudley, what has you so consumed this morning? What could be more important than your wife and daughter?”

Father raised his brow and glared at Mother. She glared back. Sighing, he folded the paper and set it aside.

“Apparently, there is some chap running amuck in Whitechapel wearing a mask, tying up people and leaving them in front of the magistrate’s office,” he said. “Initially, people thought he was single-handedly trying to rid the area of crime. But last night, he was seen in Mayfair. Tied up Lord Stanley and left him on Bow Street. Naked. Can you imagine? Stripping and tying up a member of the peerage. Now the magistrate is calling for his capture. Apparently, working class blokes are singing his praises as if he is some sort of hero for the people. Even calling him Knight Roamer. Fools, every last one of them.”

“How horrible,” Mother said. “I hope they find him and send him to Newgate.”

For the second time that morning, Emily’s eggs tumbled from her fork. Unfortunately, this time, the greasy mess landed on her lap.