Free Unraveled By The Rebel by Michelle Willingham Page B

“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. I know you slipped out to see him twice already.”
    Clearly younger sisters made the best spies. Juliette’s face flamed, but she waved a hand. “It was just a harmless infatuation when we were younger, that’s all. We’re friends, and I’ve hardly seen him in five years. We talked about nothing, really.”
    “No.” Amelia’s gaze sharpened. “It’s much more than that.” She studied her, as if she could see through her to the silent painwithin. For a moment, fear slid over Juliette that her sister suspected more than she’d let on.
    It didn’t matter what her past feelings had been. What mattered was the future—one without Paul. She ignored the bittersweet pang of loss, for she’d never had him to begin with.
    “My past has nothing to do with you or your own future marriage,” she said brightly, steering Amelia to a different topic. “Was there a gentleman who caught your eye when we were in London for Christmas?”
    “Stop trying to change the subject.” Amelia picked up the kitten, which had fallen asleep. “When we were there last, you never seemed interested in any of the parties.”
    “Don’t be silly. Even if I didn’t want a husband, of course I was interested in the parties.”
    Lies. All lies. She’d spent every possible moment with Matthew, rocking him to sleep, shaking a rattle to make him laugh. She could have cared less about leaving her aunt’s town house to be paraded about as a potential marriage candidate.
    Her sister let out a sigh. “You might have been interested in the color of the drapes. But certainly none of the men.” She flopped down on the bed. “If you truly do love Dr. Fraser, I don’t see why you shouldn’t marry him.”
    “I don’t love him, as I said before,” Juliette said. “And besides, our parents wouldn’t approve. He has no title.”
    “Father wasn’t a baron until he inherited his title over a year ago from our uncle,” Amelia pointed out. “And even now, I doubt if we could attract any gentlemen at all. I’m too young, Margaret is too fastidious, and you’re too melancholy. You remind me of that glum lord, the Earl of what’s-his-dom.”
    “Castledon,” Juliette corrected.
    “Yes, him. The pair of you would be perfectly suited, with the way you hardly ever smile or make merry.”
    Had she truly been that bad? Juliette picked up a pillow and swatted her sister. “I do smile sometimes.”
    “Not often.” Amelia snatched a larger pillow and buffeted her in return.
    “Are you trying to beat me into a smile?” she teased. “When we attend parties, will you strike me with your fan if I don’t smile?”
    “It’s not a bad idea,” Amelia mused. “Though I imagine you’d be black and blue for a while.”
    Juliette couldn’t help but laugh as her sister went on the attack, using the pillow as if it were a bludgeon. “Stop it, Amelia.” Eventually, she tripped and fell upon the bed, laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
    When was the last time they had behaved like children? She could hardly remember. But it
did
feel good to laugh, after so long.
    “There now. Promise me you’ll find something to make you smile. Every day,” Amelia ordered.
    “I promise.” Juliette repinned her hair, but before they could go downstairs, her sister blocked her way.
    “And promise me something else. If you do love Paul Fraser and you want him for your husband, for Heaven’s sake, let the man compromise you. Then our parents will have to say yes.”
    Juliette was left with her mouth hanging open as her sister led the way downstairs.

    “My lord, the house burned down.”
    Never were there more welcome words to Brandon Carlisle, the Earl of Strathland. The crofters had relocated to Eiloch Hill, and the Andrews family was left with no choice but to return to London. “Good. Make them an offer for the land.”
    Now was the time to take advantage of their misfortune. They had lost