Juliana was pulled from her thoughts. “Must you have a reason other than this is London, and we have a dining room?”

“You shall pay for that.” Callie smiled. “I think we should thank the duke for his rescuing you. And, if we expand the guest list to include a handful of eligible gentlemen—”

Juliana groaned, seeing her sister-in-law’s plans. “Oh, Callie, please . . . how embarrassing.”

Callie waved one hand. “Nonsense. The story is likely tearing through London as we speak; if we are to mitigate any exaggeration, we must take ownership of the truth. Additionally, I think it important for us to extend a modicum of gratitude for your life, don’t you?”

“Must we do so in front of half of London?”

Callie laughed. “ ‘Half of London,’ really, Juliana. No more than a dozen others.”

Juliana knew Callie well enough to understand that there was no point in arguing.

“As an added benefit, it will not hurt to have the Duke of Leighton on our side, you know. His friendship can only make you more attractive to other men of the ton.”

“And if I do not want to attract other men of the ton?”

Callie smiled. “Are you saying you want to attract the duke?”

It was a deliberate misunderstanding, Juliana knew. But she felt the wash of color on her cheeks nonetheless. Hoping to escape notice, she gave her sister-in-law a long-suffering look. “No.”

Callie took a deep breath. “Juliana, it is not as though we are planning to force you into marriage, but it would not hurt for you to meet a man or two. Whom you like. Company you enjoy.”

“You’ve been attempting this for months. To no avail.”

“At some point, you will meet someone to whom you are drawn.”

“Perhaps. But he will likely not be drawn to me.”

He will likely find me troublesome.

“Of course he will be drawn to you. You’re beautiful and entertaining and wonderful. I am inviting Benedick as well.”

The Earl of Allendale was Callie’s older brother. Juliana allowed her surprise to show. “Why do you say that in such a manner?”

Callie’s smile was too bright. “No reason. Don’t you like him?”

“I do . . .” Juliana’s gaze narrowed. “Callie, please do not play matchmaker. I am not right for men like Benedick. Or any of the others either.”

“I am not matchmaking!” The protest was loud. And false. “I simply thought you would like a familiar face. Or two.”

“I suppose that would not be so bad.”

Callie turned worried. “Juliana, has someone been rude?”

She shook her head. “No. They’re all extraordinarily polite. Very gracious. Impeccably British. But they also make it more than clear that I am not . . . what they seek. In a companion.”

“In a wife,” Callie corrected quickly. “A companion is a different thing altogether.”

Companion was likely the precise role that all of London—save her family—was expecting her to assume. They considered her too much of a scandal to be a wife. And Juliana did not like the word, anyway. She shook her head. “Callie, I’ve said from the beginning . . . from the day I arrived here in England . . . marriage is not for me.”

And it was not.

“Nonsense,” Callie said, dismissing the idea. “Why would you think such a thing?”

Because the daughter of the Marchioness of Ralston is not exactly the wife of whom every man dreams.

Of course, she could not say that.

She was saved from having to reply by the opening of the library door.

Ralston entered, his eyes finding them on the window seat, and Juliana watched as he drank in his wife, his features softening, his love clear.

She did not deny that it would be wonderful to have such a thing.

She simply did not waste her time wishing for it.

Ralston approached, taking Callie’s hand in his, lifting the fingers to his lips for a brief kiss. “I’ve been looking for you.” He turned to Juliana. “Both of you.”

Callie looked to Ralston. “Tell your sister she’s beautiful.”

He looked surprised. “Of course she’s beautiful. If only she were a touch taller, she’d be perfect.”

She laughed at the feeble joke. She was taller than half the men in London. “A common complaint.”

“Gabriel, I’m serious,” Callie was not going to let either sibling off the hook. “She thinks that she cannot land a husband.”

Her brother’s brows knitted together. “Why not?” he asked his wife.

“I don’t know! Because obstinacy runs in your blood?”

He pretended to consider the frustrated statement. “It’s possible. I am not certain that I could land a husband either.”

Juliana grinned. “It is because you are too tall.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “Very likely.”

Callie gave a little aggravated sound. “You are both impossible! I have dinner to oversee. You”—she pointed a finger at her husband, then indicated Juliana—“talk some sense into her.”

When the door had closed behind Callie, Ralston turned to Juliana.

“Please do not make me discuss it.”

He nodded once. “You realize that she’s going to be relentless about this. You’ll have to come up with an excellent reason why you don’t want to marry, or you’ll be having this conversation for the rest of your life.”

“I have a good reason.”

“No doubt you think you do.”