Edward slammed his fist on the table. “I say you’re cruel and a madman, Doctor.” He pushed his chair back so hard it grated on the wood floor. “The sooner this world is rid of you, the better it will be.” He threw his napkin on the table and left the room.
I stared at a chip in my supper plate, stunned. The ticking clock echoed in the hollow cage of my heart.
At last, Montgomery stood. “I agree with Edward. And I’ll add that you’re a goddamned bastard.” He stormed out of the room into the rain.
I stood, too, but Father grabbed my wrist.
“He’s a servant, Juliet. You’d do well to remember that. Prince would be the better match.”
“Why do you care?” I yelled. “Why not just leave us be?”
“It’s still my duty to see you married. And your duty to do as I say.”
“You’ve never liked Edward.”
“He’s of use to me in this case.”
Father didn’t care about people, only how he could use them. And matching me with Edward would mean fulfilling his fatherly duty so he could send me back to London with a husband and never think of me again.
I wrenched my hand from his. I had nothing to say to him.
TWENTY-NINE
LATER THAT EVENING, I paced the long portico outside my apartment. Rain poured off the roof and into the courtyard. Beneath the door to Edward’s outbuilding a shadow passed, back and forth, back and forth, making the light shift and slide. I pictured Edward pacing on the other side, as trapped as I was. Father didn’t like Edward, knew hardly anything about him, but was ready to pawn me off on him to get rid of me. It stung that I meant so little.
I leaned against a post, listening to the storm. A light shone from the barn, where Montgomery must be attending to the horses, wishing the mess over dinner could be cleaned as easily as brushing down a horse. Above all the embarrassment and the anger, I was proud of him for standing up to my father.
I made my way around the portico, stealing glances at the barn’s cracked half door, wanting just a glimpse of him. The horses stamped and whinnied within. I hadn’t intended on going inside, but as if by their own accord, my fingers softly pushed the door open. Inside, rain slowly leaked into murky puddles in the straw. The whites of the horses’ eyes flashed in the lantern light.
Montgomery groomed Duke with quick, tense strokes.
I let the door ease closed behind me, but the hinges groaned. Montgomery’s eyes slid to mine. They were dark. Cold. Warning me away. He brushed harder, sending dust dancing in the air.
“He didn’t mean it,” I said. I hugged my arms close. “He would have said anything to wound you.”
The brush kicked up more dust, almost obscuring his face. The rhythmic sound of hard strokes against the horse’s hair was hypnotic. Montgomery’s jaw was set hard, the cords in his muscles strained.
“I know,” he said.
He finished brushing the horse’s hindquarters and back legs, then used a metal pick to pull the knots from Duke’s tail. When he finished, he threw the pick into a tin bucket. The metallic ring echoed in the small space, giving me shivers.
He rubbed down his hands with an old rag and stood in the stall opening. His presence warmed the room more than the lantern.
“But he wasn’t wrong,” he said. Desire flickered in his eyes like firelight.
My heartbeat stumbled. He’s been in love with you for years, Father had said. I’d thought Montgomery’s affection lay with Alice, but could I have been wrong? If so, how could he love someone whose father had been so cruel? What if I misunderstood him still? What if—
He stepped closer, lowering his head. His face was inches from mine. Then he pulled me to him, digging his hands into my arms. His lips found mine. I jerked back, just for a breath, shocked by his passion. It was totally improper. But as he grabbed my chin and kissed me again, harder this time, I forgot about decorum. Suddenly I couldn’t be close enough to him. I clutched the collar of his shirt so hard the fabric ripped.
His lips found the pulsing vein on my neck. I could hardly think. It was familiar and new, all at once. This was the little boy who’d taken care of me when Father was consumed with work. The little boy I’d idolized since I could barely walk.
He pushed my back against the stall door, kissing me. Edward had tried to kiss me, but I’d been so shocked I’d barely had time to explore how it felt. Lucy had told me stories of shady corners and sweaty palms. But this was passionate. Wild. Something I’d never known.
“Have you kissed a girl before?” I whispered.
He ran a thumb over my cheek. His eyes lingered on my lips. “Yes,” he said. I thought of Alice, her pretty blond hair, the split lip that made her so vulnerable. But it wasn’t her name he said. “A woman at the docks in Brisbane. She didn’t mean anything. I was lonely. It wasn’t love.”
A prostitute, he meant. So he’d done much more than kiss her. Suddenly I didn’t know what to do, as though I were still just a child and he a grown man. “Just once?”