Cecilia waved her hand, laughing. “Goodness, no. His reputation as a disagreeable gentleman is well known. Honestly, I find his candor refreshing amongst our class.”
That was one way to look at him. Juno had to agree he and Marina made a nice couple, at least visually. Perhaps it was their serious, concentrated expressions. They could actually be bookends, she decided.
“I do appreciate your clever seating arrangement at dinner.” Juno was pleased that she and the duke had flanked Marina. That allowed Juno to support and advise her charge—which she’d done in the barest of whispers—while Marina and the duke could get to know each other. However, as Cecilia had noted, they were both quiet people. Juno feared they wouldn’t converse enough to determine if they would suit. But perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary. It was possible the duke had already decided whether he would propose.
Juno hoped that wasn’t the case. She preferred they took some time, a few days at least, to get to know one another, to be sure of the match. Lady Wetherby didn’t care about that—she just wanted a proposal. Thankfully, she’d been seated away from them at dinner, which had put Marina more at ease. She’d even smiled at the duke. Once.
“I am more than happy to help.” Cecilia turned toward her, lowering her voice. “In fact, I’ve arranged for her and Rigid”—her lip twitched, and Juno nearly laughed—“to share a picnic blanket tomorrow—along with you and Lady Wetherby, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Teasmore will join you. The blankets are large enough for six, with a footman assigned to each.”
“That sounds lovely. I will endeavor to ensure Rigid and Marina walk to the picnic location together.”
Cecilia gave her a fervent nod. “And I shall do my best to assist.”
A gasp, along with a chorus of voices, sounded from where the furniture had been cleared for dancing on the other side of the room. The music, provided by Cecilia’s oldest daughter, who was fifteen, on the pianoforte, stopped.
Juno and Cecilia whipped their attention toward the commotion. A puddle of pale yellow silk surrounded Marina where she sat on the floor. Lady Wetherby was already rushing to her, while the duke helped Marina to her feet.
“Did you see what happened?” Cecilia asked.
“I didn’t.” Juno had been too focused on their conversation.
“Oh, look,” Cecilia breathed, staring at the duke as he gently helped Marina find her footing. Then he offered his arm and escorted her to a chair. He bent his head and spoke to her before moving toward the refreshment table.
“Lovely,” Juno murmured. Perhaps this match would work after all.
The duke returned with a glass of ratafia, which he handed to Marina. She accepted the drink, then darted a look toward Juno. Her eyes were wider than normal, and her forehead creased. Juno had seen that expression before. Marina needed help.
“Pardon me,” Juno said before going to join her charge.
Lady Wetherby took a chair next to Marina’s. The duke stood nearby. Cecilia’s daughter began playing and the dancing resumed, minus Marina and the duke, of course.
“What on earth happened?” Lady Wetherby asked Marina.
“It was my fault,” the duke said gruffly.
Marina briefly lifted her gaze to his. Juno knew in that moment that the duke had lied, that he’d covered for Marina. Perhaps he wasn’t so unlikable.
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Lady Wetherby said with a smile. She turned her attention to her daughter. “All right, then, Marina? Ready to rejoin the dance?”
“I hurt my ankle, Mother,” Marina said quietly. Again, she sent a pleading look toward Juno.
The duke bowed toward Marina. “I’ll let you recuperate.”
Juno noted Lady Wetherby’s slight frown as she watched him leave. “What a lovely evening it’s been,” she said brightly. While it may not have ended the way the countess wanted, dinner had been a success, as had been the duke’s concern following the dancing mishap. Juno bent her head to say, “It seems great progress was made, my lady.”
Lady Wetherby pursed her lips. “We shall see.”
“I would like to retire,” Marina said, rising slowly to her feet.
Juno provided assistance, for Marina did seem a tad wobbly. “I’ll take you upstairs.”
“I’m going to remain here.” Lady Wetherby looked up at Marina. “I hope your ankle is better by morning.”
“I’m sure it will be.” Marina took Juno’s arm, and they started toward the door.
Juno directed a sympathetic look toward Cecilia, silently indicating all was well. Cecilia responded with a slight nod. Tomorrow at the picnic, they’d do what they could to encourage the burgeoning connection between Marina and the duke.
As they left the drawing room, Marina moved slowly, and Juno was genuinely concerned about her ankle. “Are you terribly hurt?”
Marina straightened and took her hand from Juno’s arm. “No. I just wanted to leave.” She gave Juno a sheepish look.
“I understand you find these sorts of gatherings difficult, and after you wed, you may be able to avoid them entirely. In fact, if you wed the duke, I suspect that will be what you both prefer.”
“It isn’t just that,” Marina said. “I completely forgot the steps of the dance and collided with the duke. It wasn’t his fault at all.” Red flagged her cheeks, and Juno patted her shoulder.
“Don’t be embarrassed. That sort of thing happens to everyone at some point or another.”
“I can’t imagine it ever happens to you.” Marina allowed one of her rare smiles. “You’re so perfect.”
Juno laughed. “Hardly. I met Mr. Langton at an assembly, and I spilled punch on him.”
Marina actually giggled. “You have to be making that up.”
“I swear I am not.” Juno noted they were near the library. “Come, let’s get you a book or four since your mother’s not around.” She glanced back toward the drawing room, but knew the countess would stay as long as the wine was flowing. Then she’d retire to her chamber, which was directly next to the one Juno was sharing with Marina. She’d never know her daughter had been to the library.
Fortunately, the room was empty of people. It was, however, well lit with a cheery fire burning in the large fireplace. Juno browsed the shelves as Marina plucked books and flipped through them. She stacked one then another on a table before moving across the room to continue her search. Another tome landed on another table.
Juno liked seeing Marina’s enthusiasm and wished it extended beyond books. Alas, Marina would be quite happy to closet herself in a room such as this and perhaps not emerge for months, even years. It was too bad she had such high expectations, but that was the position into which she’d been born. Juno somewhat understood what that felt like. As the granddaughter of a baron, she’d been expected to marry a country gentleman, not a dashing scholar who’d just taken a position as headmaster of a school.
Her parents had refused to endorse their marriage, and Juno hadn’t seen them since—nearly eight years ago. She liked to think they’d be proud of the life she’d built for herself. Juno certainly was. Indeed, she had everything she could hope for: respectability, comfort, and independence. And she didn’t have to answer to a man or parents.