Page 24 of After the Abduction

“Lady Juliet,” he finished as he resumed his seat.

“Yes! How did you know?”

“Call it intuition,” he said dryly. “You want me to stay away from her during your visit, I assume.” Perhaps he could move this conversation along by simply walking her through her husband’s admonitions.

“No, indeed! Not in the least! That would be disaster!”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh dear, I see I’ve shocked you. I have a tendency to do that to people. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.”

“By all means.” For God’s sake, how many more lengthy discussions of Juliet Laverick must he endure before this was over?

Lady Rosalind settled her shawl about her shoulders. “You see, Juliet was much affected by your brother’s actions two years ago. It changed her utterly.”

You mean she’s become strong-willed, obstinate, and maddening? “In what way?”

“Despite her living with us at Knighton House and having every opportunity to move in the best circles, she isn’t the happy girl she once was. She laughs less and spends long hours in contemplation.” Lady Rosalind gave the heavy sigh of one much plagued by the urgent need to make her family fall in line. “I wish you could have seen her before it happened. She was a delightful child, a bit too malleable perhaps, and naive, but full of joy for life. She was always ready to believe the best about everyone. Now she’s more cautious, even cynical.”

“A normal progression. You wouldn’t want her to stay a child forever.”

“No. But a kidnapping isn’t the best way to be thrown into adulthood.”

Sebastian remained silent, his conscience squirming. Devil take it, he’d done his best, he’d protected her from the other men, and he’d only bruised her pride. But those were excuses. Bruising the pride of a girl on the brink of womanhood could alter her for life.

And apparently had.

“When she was first returned to us, her listlessness made us think she pined after your brother, that even after what he’d done she might still harbor feelings for him.”

But Juliet had denied that very thing last night, claiming that after she’d realized Morgan was a scoundrel, she’d wanted nothing more to do with him. “And then?” he prodded, a rash urge to know the truth eating away at his prudence.

“Then she became rabid about domestic activities, particularly needlework. She suddenly spent hours embroidering and stitching and reworking old gowns and…who knows what all. She’ll ruin her eyes one of these days.”

He struggled not to smile. “And you blame this on my brother.”

She tilted up her rounded chin. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“So she had no interest in domestic activities before?”

“No, no, that’s not the point,” she said in utter exasperation, as if he were deliberately being obtuse. “The point is, she buries herself in domestic pursuits to avoid facing life. Your brother’s actions have turned her skittish.”

Really? He hadn’t noticed any skittishness when she’d spoken of holding a pistol to his head.

“And stubborn, too,” Lady Rosalind continued. “Though she’s had many offers of marriage, she continues to refuse them all.”

“Does she?” Aha, so he wasn’t the only “respectable gentleman” whose kisses didn’t meet her high expectations. And clearly the supposed gossip that had brought them here hadn’t kept her suitors away. “Perhaps she’s merely discriminating.”

“She recently turned down the Duke of Montfort, one of London’s more eligible bachelors.”

He scowled. “That proves my point. Montfort is an inveterate libertine. Not good husband material at all.” The idea of Montfort going anywhere near Juliet made him want to bash something, preferably Montfort’s haughty features.

She looked startled. “I never heard that.”

“Perhaps he’s changed since the summer he spent here when his father and mine ravaged Wales together in my youth. But I doubt it.” From what he remembered, the duke had been a younger version of their fathers, the wrong sort of man entirely for Juliet.

“Well, perhaps she was right on that score. But there’ve been other, perfectly nice gentlemen who’d make good husbands, and none of them appealed to her.”

“And you think this is my brother’s fault.”