He nodded and looked away, puzzled by his father’s actions—and inaction, too. “Poor Juliette,” Drew murmured, wiping his face in an effort to sober himself. “She doted on the old man. I cannot believe he could be so cruel to her.”
“The way Juliette tells it, he decided it was past time to set a good example for his son.”
“Hardly.” Drew scoffed. “I always hoped he would marry the woman. She was so good for him. I will have to find out where she’s staying. Make sure she’s all right. Offer any help she needs.”
Scarsdale smiled. “That is what we hoped you might say.”
“We?”
“Miss Hillcrest and I are of the same mind. Dear Juliette cannot decide what to do with her life, now she’s no longer a wealthy man’s mistress, and she needs some guidance from someone she can trust with her money, too. Aurora wondered if you might have a suggestion for her future, or at least offer her a place to live for a while.”
“She can count on me, of course,” Drew promised, standing, but not well. He grabbed the back of his chair to hold himself up until he got his balance. “I care about Juliette.”
“You’ll need a clearer head before you see her or anyone,” Scarsdale suggested.
“I was just on my way to throw my head in a basin of very cold water,” Drew promised, weaving his way toward the door at a lurching pace. Juliette was a good woman. He could have sent her to Kent to be his guest for the rest of her life, if he wasn’t about to be disinherited. She’d always enjoyed the countryside. Some time away from London might just be what she needed to get over the duke’s defection.
He could not understand Northport, giving up a situation that made him so undeniably happy. What was he thinking, sabotaging his life just to make Drew’s supposedly better?
In that, Northport and Aurora were two of a kind.
Drew made his way upstairs, called for his valet to help him change and shave, and then, dressed in fresh clothing, he dug into the enormous early breakfast cook had sent up, and felt better from the first bite.
Scarsdale sidled into the room and up to the table, helping himself to Drew’s meal and drinking Drew’s coffee, once an extra setting had been brought up for him.
Drew looked at the fellow likely hoping to seduce Aurora now, and winced. “Thank you for coming to tell me about Juliette.”
“My pleasure. I hate to see my closest friends in pain.”
“One of us is, at least,” Drew murmured.
Scarsdale patted a napkin to his lips. “Is that what you really think? That it was easy for her to leave you?”
“It’s what I know. She doesn’t give a damn.”
“Well, what I know is that Miss Hillcrest hid at a hotel for weeks and refused to see anyone. I know she had a disappointed look in her eyes last night as she surveyed the ballroom and did not see you standing anywhere among the guests. And I know that when she thinks no one is looking at her, she caresses a diamond bracelet she hides under her glove. She misses you, and she’s too stubborn to say anything to make things right.”
“She doesn’t love me. You were mistaken about that,” he assured the younger man, shaking his head. “She was emphatic about it, believe me.”
“Tell me, what’s her favorite color?”
“I’ve no idea. She never said.”
“All right then, what color gown do you think she most often wears of late? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not green, red, brown or lemon. It is always the same color.”
His bruised heart beat a little faster to hear that, but he dared not ask what the color was. He would only get his hopes up unnecessarily over a rumor.
Scarsdale smiled softly. “You ought to keep yourself in order from now on. The Hillcrest ladies look poorly upon a slovenly gentleman.”
“I’m hardly that,” Drew assured him.
“No? Really then, who was it that put drool on your lapel last night?” Scarsdale teased. “And why are there at least three empty bottles smashed in your fireplace downstairs? Should the servants not be allowed to clear the mess away?”
“She broke my heart!” Drew protested, raking a hand through his freshly combed hair. “Perhaps I got a little carried away feeling sorry for myself. You would, too, if you’d ever loved someone so deeply.”
Scarsdale grinned. “How fortunate am I, then, never to have loved and lost? But I really don’t think you’ve lost her yet.”
“I have.”
“What would you do if she came to see you?”
“She wouldn’t. Not now,” he promised, and then looked at Scarsdale, unable not to enquire. “What color gown does she wear?”
Scarsdale chuckled and stood. “I’ll give you one guess. It is a match for your eyes.”
Drew’s eyes were blue, and he’d told Aurora he liked the way she looked in that color.
Perhaps Aurora did love him a little after all…but if she did, why the hell had she not come back to him?