"My final letters, were they read? Or were they written in vain?"
Although born in France, Juliette Villeneuve often spent her childhood summers in London. With the passing of each summer, her adoration for a certain Bridgerton boy grew. During thei...
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LORD AND LADY DUBOIS LIVED IN ELEGANCE AND EXUDED CLASS. Their beautiful home nearly put the other houses on Grosvenor Square to shame. Lush vines scaled the pristine white bricks, inching towards the intricate trim. The front garden was lavish and tended to perfection, allowing the rose bushes of red, pink and white to bear all attention. However, no house, not even the DuBois', was quite the match to the great beauty of the Bridgerton home.
Three years have passed since Juliette was last in London. She used to cherish every moment spent in this lively city. Days before her arrival, she used to be intoxicated with exhilaration. Juliette once loved London. That was no longer the case.
The city was nothing more than a graveyard of old memories, of former lives.
Now, three years later, Juliette couldn't be more disinterested to set foot on London soil. The polarities of what her life used to be compared to the current life she lived mercilessly preyed upon her thoughts. The last time she was in London, her mother was alive and her father was able to look her in the eyes. Now, neither was true. Lady Villeneuve had fallen victim to an unforeseen and fatal illness. Lord Villeneuve loved his daughter, but he no longer liked her. Juliette resembled his late wife too much.
As she sat on the smooth seat of the horse-drawn carriage, Juliette toyed with the expensive fabric of her newest red dress. She stared out of the carriage's window, focusing on the elegant DuBois home. The Bridgerton home was directly across the square from the DuBois'. Juliette refused to steal the quickest of glances at the Bridgerton home. Plentiful painful memories dwelled there as well.
Juliette wouldn't be in London if it weren't for her father. The Lord insisted that his only daughter, an only child, find a respectable suitor to wed. He ignored Juliette's profuse protests and requests to find a suitor in Paris. When discussing the matter, Lord Villeneuve hardly sent a glance at his daughter. Juliette was forbidden of returning home until she was engaged to be married.
"Very well," Juliette whispered. With one, curt knock on the roof of the carriage, Juliette readied herself to touch ground on London soil.
Her former life.
The coachman slowly opened the carriage door, exposing her to Grosvenor Square. With a deep breath, Juliette held the coachman's outstretched arm, helping her out of the carriage. She sent him a gracious nod.
Momentarily, she stared up at the beauty of the DuBois home, her former summer home. Despite the sentiments of dread that harshly tugged at her heart, Juliette was eager to see her aunt and uncle once again. Of course, her two young cousins as well. She missed them all dearly. Other than her father, they were the sole family she had left.
She made her way towards the home, her lady's maid, Anne, followed close by. With a curt knock on the door, the housekeeper, Celine, ushered them inside. Immediately, Juliette heard the graceful and breathtaking playing of a piano.
