Page 11 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
“Of course, he did not mention the engagement. He does not know of it yet,” Miss Burbank said sharply. “But our families have been arranging it for weeks. You would do well not to accept that dance.”
She stepped closer, her voice low.
“You will regret it if you do.”
The music shifted. The dancers parted as the next set began. Across the room, Lord Blackwell caught Poppy’s eye and inclined his head toward the floor.
Miss Burbank’s expression hardened.
Poppy gasped, and Julia stepped in front of her without thinking.
Miss Burbank gave a sharp cry and pulled the brooch off her dress.
“Miss Norish,” Her voice rose loudly behind the action. “What are you doing?”
Julia stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“You just tried to steal my brooch.” She held her palm open for everyone to see.
“No. I did nothing of the sort.” Julia knew her face had gone white. She looked around the room. To her horror, some faces had already schooled to judgment.
How could they believe her?
“Did you come here to steal trinkets to pay your father’s debts?” Miss Burbank said, her voice rising. “I am surprised you were admitted at all. One must be careful now. It seems Mayfair is no better than Whitechapel.”
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Julia felt every eye turn toward her.
She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.
Miss Burbank met her gaze with a satisfied smile.
Julia’s chest tightened.
She turned, fleeing from the whispers and the stares and that awful harpy Miss Burbank. She knew the rumor that she was a pickpocket would already be spreading rapidly, but she didn’t know what she could do about it. If it were her word against anyone else’s, she already knew who would be believed.
She found herself in an empty room somewhere off the main hall. In her haste to get away, she hadn’t looked at all where she was going. It seemed to be some sort of parlor or a study, with bookshelves at the back and several vases displayed on pedestals throughout. She picked one of them up, looking at the intricately painted patterns on the smooth porcelain.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that their father had suddenly disappeared, and they were left to pick up the pieces of theirshattered lives alone. It wasn’t fair that their uncle would rather throw them out on the street than risk associating with them. It wasn’t fair that Miss Burbank would make such heinous accusations, just because Poppy wanted to dance with someone who had asked her. It wasn’t fair that the stranger who had been so rude to them should have such extraordinary wealth that he wasted it by buying French cheese and statues of lions and porcelain vases, while they were about to be penniless through no fault of their own.
She raised the vase high above her head, wanting nothing except to slam it and see the pieces shatter. She should do it. Right now. Take out all her anger, her indignation, her frustration on this unnecessary decorative object, even if it was just to feel a tiny bit vindicated, like she’d taken something back for herself.
Instead, she took a deep breath, letting her arms go limp before placing the vase carefully back on its pedestal. To smash it would be to prove them all right. To show the world that she was a thief, or at the very least a vandal who didn’t belong in polite Society. No - she was better than that. She was better than the person they branded her, and one day, she would find a way to show them.
“I knew you didn’t have it in you,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
Julia whipped around so quickly that the edge of her dress knocked the pedestal. The vase she had just replaced tittered, and she reached forward, grabbing the rim to steady it. Leaningagainst the door frame, looking amused, was the Duke of Pridewell himself. The Lion.
Her heart hammered.
"You startled me," she said, because it was the truth and because she needed something to say while the rest of her composure caught up.
"I imagine I did." He did not move from the doorway. "Though I would remind you, Miss Norish, that this is my home. I am at liberty to go where I wish in it."
She had no answer to that. He was right, and they both knew it, and the amusement had not left his face, which made it considerably worse.
"I will leave you to it, then," she said and released her hold on the delicate vase.
