"Has your mother said something to upset you?" asked Sarah.

Julianne grasped onto the excuse and shot her conscience an inward frown. After all, when didn't her formidable mother say something upsetting? Indeed, she'd done so only a few hours ago, and on a topic she could discuss with her friends. And one that brought reality back with a thump.

"Actually, yes," Julianne admitted. "I overheard her and Father talking earlier this evening about their plans for my future. Apparently the Duke of Eastling expressed interest in me."

"The Duke of Eastling?" repeated Emily, her expression reflecting the same wide-eyed dismay Julianne felt at the name. "But he's… so… so… not young."

"He's only just turned forty," Carolyn said.

"Which is only several years younger than my father," Emily retorted. "Besides, His Grace has already been married. And what did he do? Dragged his wife off to Cornwall, that's what. Which is no doubt where he'd want to drag Julianne as well." She turned distressed eyes toward Julianne. "Heavens, you cannot live in Cornwall. We'd never see you!"

"His wife died," Julianne said, "a year and a half ago. He's ready to remarry."

"I thought something like this might be in the wind when I saw your mother speaking to him just before he asked you to waltz," Sarah said.

"As did I," Carolyn agreed. "He's very eligible. And rich. And handsome."

"Yes," Julianne agreed. Indeed, most women found the duke, with his blond hair and light blue eyes, very attractive. But to Julianne, his good looks didn't matter. Not when he exuded the same icy, remote, uncompromising demeanor she'd been subjected to her entire life from her father. A shudder ran through her at the thought, and her father's stern voice seemed to echo in her ears, the mantra she'd heard countless times: The only thing a worthless daughter can do is marry to the advantage of her family. She longed for warmth and passion. Not chilly politeness and indifference.