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wishing not to know about
Constance or her mother. But had there been word of Jonathan?
    Oh how she longed to take up a pen
and tell him all her news. He would have male insight into Bennett Nesbitt. God
knew she needed guidance where that man was concerned. He was wild and free
spirited, so full of life and energy. But, she reminded herself soberly,
Jonathan wasn't her friend anymore, was he?
    A small smile warmed Grandmother's
face. "Well, he says that Miss Constance is quite demanding and very much
ready to cry if tea is even five minutes late."
    "Well, Cook is never
tardy," Julianna defended, setting her sewing stand to the side and rising
from the settee.
    My how her legs ached from
yesterday's whirlwind tour of London
on the arm of Lord Nesbitt. Yet she had a new appreciation for the city and she
had to admit, he was ever so much fun. Bennett's laughter and passion was
contagious. Not to mention the fact that he was drawn to her. There was no
worry as to whether or not he found her attractive. She could tell by the
appreciation in his eyes and the compliments on his tongue.
    She touched her lips, recalling his
kiss that night in the garden. If he tried to kiss her again, how would she
feel? Would she be so ready to push him away?
    Heat inched its way into her cheeks
and her stomach flip flopped. No. She didn't think she would.
    "Yes, that's very true. I hope
we have our dear staff when we return. She is driving Nellie to
distraction."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well, all I can think is the child
must be bored. All she seems to do is have Nell comb her hair, help her change
her clothes and force her to listen to her complaints."
    Julianna drew her lower lip between
her teeth. Did she dare ask if there was more news? News of Denbigh Hall. News of
Jonathan? Her anxiety over asking was not nearly strong enough to stop her.
"And are there any other items of interest in the letter?"
    Grandmother folded the paper and
held it tight in her hands before setting a chilly gaze upon her granddaughter.
"What sort of items of interest?"
    "You know what I'm
asking," she replied, her fingers curling nervously in the fabric of her
gown.
    "Yes I do." Grandmother
stood and lifted her hand, offering Julianna the letter. "There is. Are
you certain you want to know?"
    Her throat seemed suddenly tight.
Did she want to know for certain? Judging by the expression on Grandmother's
face, she already knew.
    "Has he been calling on Miss
Whitcomb?"
    Grandmother lowered her hand, her
mouth dipped into a frown. "Yes."
    Tears sprang uncontrollably from
her eyes and she sank back into the settee, burying her face in her hands. Her
heart hurt, actually ached, each beat painful in her chest.
    Grandmother shuffled forward and
settled next to her, rubbing her back in slow, gentle strokes.
    "I-I don’t know why, but I
thought he would mourn my absence," Julianna said through sobs. "He
is truly lost to me. Our kiss meant nothing to him, just as he professed."
    "I'm sorry child."
Grandmother pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I carried the same
hopes as you."
    Julianna looked at her grandmother
through tear soaked eyes. "What does that mean?"
    "It means I had anticipated
that passion is stronger toward absent lovers. That without you there, he would
realize just what you meant to him."
    Taking in a deep breath, Julianna
forced down her pain. As far as she was concerned, it was over. She would never
again think of Jonathan as anything but an acquaintance. For there were other
men in the world and surely she could find love with one of them. If not love,
then something far more dependable and far less painful.
    "Grandmother," Julianna
said with a sniffle. "I think I would like to go to Lady Nesbitt's
milliner. I was there yesterday with Bennett. And in the window was a stunning
turban."
    "A turban?" Grandmother
asked, looking up at her as if she had lost her senses.
    "Yes, it's charming. Green
with silver and gold bits of thread. I do believe it would look