DEAR JULIETTE ▹ Anthony Bridgerton

i

Unknowing to Juliette, she was at the receiving end of a pair of pained wandering eyes as she entered the DuBois home.

The home was as she remembered it from years before. Large, expensive paintings lined the blue walls of every hall and antique vases were delicately placed on stone pedestals. Juliette's heels clicked loudly against the dark wooden floors, although muffled by the piano. The housekeeper led her towards the parlour and the origin of the enthralling piano music.

Lord and Lady DuBois sat, mesmerized by their two children, Édith and Edward, playing the piano. They played angelically. Their skills had improved greatly since the last time Juliette heard them play. She smiled softly at her younger cousins.

Once the sound of the piano silenced into the afternoon air, Celine cleared her throat, drawing the family's attention. "Miss Villeneuve has arrived."

Upon the declaration, the thirteen-year-old twins rushed over to Juliette, with wide eyes and large grins. The skirt of Édith's dress billowed as she ran.

"Juliette!" They exclaimed in unison, delighted to see their dear older cousin once again. Édith pulled Juliette into a tight hug. Edward, who stood to the side quite awkwardly, decided to join in on the embrace after a few brief moments.

"Three years was far too long, Juliette," Édith said breathily into Juliette's shoulder.

Releasing herself from her cousins' strong grasp, she eyed the twins in awe. Since their last moment together, the twins have grown greatly. They were truly becoming young adults.

"Oh my, Edward you have grown at least a foot since the last time I saw you!" Juliette proclaimed, a large smile adorning her sweet features.

"A foot and a half precisely," Edward said, his tone laced with pride. "Another year and I shall be much taller than you, Juliette."

Juliette stifled a laugh, "And what makes you believe that, Edward?"

"You are quite short, dear cousin." He stated, bluntly.

Lord and Lady DuBois approached the group. Lady DuBois was dressed in the most elegant and flattering silver dress. Lord DuBois closely stood next to his wife, endearingly. Juliette wished she would find a love match like her aunt and uncle. They were smitten, even after years.

"Oh, Juliette, it's refreshing to see you once again," Lady DuBois smiled. The older woman was the epitome of beauty and grace. "We all missed you so very much."

"I missed you all as well. Thank you for welcoming me into your beautiful home once again, Lord and Lady DuBois," Juliette emphasized. The DuBois house felt much more like a home than her own.

Lord DuBois shook his head slightly, his face was soft and written with kindness. He spoke truthfully, "Juliette, we are family, there is no place for such courteous titles."

"Of course, uncle."

Continuing, he said, "Truth be told, I thought you were my late sister at first. Such a striking resemblance to your mother."

"Truly a compliment my dear," Lady DuBois mused, cupping Juliette's rosy cheek. "No disregard towards your father, of course, but you received your beauty from your late mother solely. An astonishing rose."

"I am honoured, my mother was a beautiful woman indeed," Juliette attempted to hide the solemn undertone of her words. Her mother frequently haunted her thoughts, she missed the woman dearly.

"You will catch the attention of many suitors. I imagine we will have many callers entering this parlour in the coming days, my dear," Lady DuBois let out a delicate and lively laugh. "My, my, the cooks ought to be busy!"

The endearing encounter with her family caused Juliette to forget as to why she was truly in London after all. Under the care and advisement of Lord DuBois, she was to find a respectable suitor to wed. Juliette was truly apprehensive of marriage. She couldn't help but think of the possible outcomes. What if she was trapped in a loveless marriage?

Due to her late arrival, she was absent from the presentations with the Queen. Although, Juliette did not mind all that much about missing the important event. The Queen was a terrifying and intense woman. Juliette's much less frightening debut to the social season would take place the following day at the opening ball at the Danbury House.

"We shall see, won't we?"

...

Juliette sat on the wooden porch swing, reading. The late afternoon sun was drifting lower into the horizon as the moon was expected to make an appearance in the upcoming hours. The smell of roses from the garden invaded her senses. Juliette was at peace reading her book outside, surrounded by nature. Oddly, the common bustling of Grosvenor Square was not present that late afternoon. Juliette found comfort in the absence of noise.

"Juliette?" The voice was so quiet as if the name was never meant to leave his parted lips. If not for the thick silence she would not have heard it.

She wished she had not heard. Her name rolling off his tongue sent her heart into a frenzy, a frenzy her rational brain could not tame. Undesired memories clouded her mind, fueling her heart. Biting her bottom lip, Juliette forced herself to avoid the gaze as well as the presence of the man near ten feet away.

Ignoring the soft voice and her heart thumping loudly in her chest, Juliette attempted to focus her energies on her book. Yet, it was a difficult feat. Wherever he looked, she felt his gaze burn holes into her skin.

"Juliette, I cannot believe my own sight," He said softly.

She lifted her attention off the wordy pages, finally looking at the man standing in front of her. In the afternoon sun, she could see his eyes so clearly. He still bore the same soft eyes, the prettiest of browns. Truth be told, Anthony Bridgerton was unaltered, unchanged. He was a mirrored image of the man in the memories that afflicted her. Juliette grew cold at the sight of him.

"I believe you are to call me Miss Villeneuve, my Lord," Juliette stated, her words laced with ice. The slightest French accent slipped through her lips. Closing her book, she held it so very tightly that her fingers whitened. "We do not afford such informalities."

A frown settled on Anthony's face. "Juliette—"

"My Lord," Juliette warned.

"Very well, Miss Villeneuve, it was lovely to see you again," His words were ridden with thick emotion, ridden with pain. Anthony nodded at Juliette, a frown still cursing his pleasant features, and walked away.

The short interaction caused an ache in her chest to flourish immensely until it was all-consuming. In an effort to remain presentable, she clenched her jaw and pressed her tongue harshly to the roof of her mouth. Squeezing her eyes shut, Juliette willed herself not to cry. Years earlier she vowed to never cry over Anthony Bridgerton again.

He was not worth her thoughts. He was not worth her tears.

Despite her efforts, Juliette couldn't have prevented the single tear from rolling down her rosy cheek. She hastily wiped it away before rushing inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

. . .

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