The day after he’d walked in on her in the tub, he’d started making some of the most irrational decisions she’d ever witnessed. The first one was hiring yet another seamstress to make dozens of gowns she’d probably never wear. The second thoughtless thing he’d done was sack her! Yes, he’d sacked her from her post as motherness. Even if it was past due, she was not at all impressed with her replacement. As it turned out, picking her hangnails and spitting her fingernails turned out to be two of her better habits.
Despite her husband’s urging, Juliet could not stay away. However, she did her best to ignore the chronic nail biting and even kept herself from outwardly grimacing each time the woman licked three of her fingertips in order to turn a page. But Juliet wouldn’t―no couldn’t―ignore it when Kate accidentally spilled her tea and Miss Farrell’s solution was to hold the teacup at the edge of the table and use her handkerchief to help push the liquid off the edge of the table and back into Kate’s teacup. As astonishing as that was, she then outdid herself by holding her handkerchief over the mouth of Kate’s cup and squeezing any remaining liquid (and who knows what else) into it! That was enough. It was official, Miss Farrell was not a fit governess.
Since her husband wasn’t available for a conference at the time of the unfortunate incident, she terminated Miss Farrell’s employment—without a reference, naturally—and resumed her post as motherness. Thankfully the rest of the week wasn’t quite so eventful, but it wasn’t completely without incident either. Nearly every single day she and her husband had some sort of disagreement. Nothing major, mind you, just a few well-placed barbs and a stare-down or two. In the end, she forced his hand and he agreed to employ Miss Grant, her friend from school’s older sister.
But until Miss Grant could arrive, Juliet continued to act as the girls’ governess, thus the reason she was still occupying the little room adjacent to the schoolroom. A faint scratching at the door caught Juliet’s attention. She called for her maid to come in and in no time at all, Juliet was standing in her cramped room wearing the most beautiful green silk gown she’d ever seen. She ran the tip of her index finger along the moderate swoop of her bodice then traced the flowery embroidery. Her skirts were so thick and puffy, she didn’t need the petticoats she’d put on. But she kept them on anyway, as a dress could never be too puffy, could it?
Mary held out a green filmy glove and Juliet slipped her hand inside. The gauzy fabric felt like a second skin on her fingers. She slipped her hand into the other glove. They were made from the same transparent fabric that was used as an overlay for her skirt and were absolutely beautiful.
“His lordship is downstairs waiting,” Mary said with a proud smile.
Juliet nodded. “Is my hair all right?” She reached up once again to finger her coif.
Mary’s gentle fingers stopped her. “Your hair is brilliant. Lord Drakely is going to have a hard time stopping himself from touching those curls, I tell you.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Juliet said. She doubted he’d have a hard time keeping his hands out of her hair. His interest in her outside of her fulfilling her motherly and superficial wifely duties was nonexistent. She pushed her spectacles up and glanced once more into the mirror to look at her hair. Mary was right. Her hair was brilliant. Mary was brilliant. Juliet didn’t know how, but somehow that woman had worked a miracle and gotten her unruly locks to cooperate and stay put in a tight upsweep with an overflow of cascading curls. It wasn’t the fanciest style, but it was perfect as far as she was concerned.
The sound of Mary clearing her throat made Juliet blush at being caught admiring herself in the mirror. The maid smiled at her.
Juliet returned her smile then took a deep breath. It was time.
With an extra measure of caution, Juliet descended the stairs that led from the third floor to the second, then started down the next staircase. Two steps down, she stilled. So did her immaculately dressed husband who wore black trousers, a vibrant blue shirt, gold waistcoat, black coat and a bright white cravat with a sparkling emerald pin, and was ascending the stairs when their eyes met.
Silence engulfed them.
Neither spoke.
Neither moved.
Neither broke eye contact.
It wasn’t until Kate came out of the drawing room and exclaimed how beautiful she thought Juliet looked that either of them stirred.
“She does indeed look beautiful,” Kate’s father said, his voice not quite clear.
Juliet tried not to grimace at his outright lie. She knew he didn’t find her beautiful, but he’d be rude to voice such. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a step down.