The study was smaller than the public rooms but no less ostentatious. A massive mahogany desk dominated the space, its surface cluttered with papers and ledgers. Bookshelves lined two walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that looked expensive but unread. A portrait of Julian himself hung over the fireplace, painted to make him look noble and distinguished, with his flaws carefully minimized and his better features exaggerated.
Julian closed the door behind them with a soft click that made Joan’s skin crawl. He moved to lean against his desk, crossing his arms over his partially bare chest, studying her with obvious amusement.
“I must confess,” he said conversationally, “I’ve missed you these past days. Your absence made me wonder if you’d changed your mind about our arrangement. I was about to send someone to verify that you’d actually returned to London as promised.”
He paused, his smirk widening. “But here you are, a woman of your word. I’m pleased. Reliability is such an attractive quality in a wife.”
The way he said “wife” made Joan’s stomach roil. She inhaled slowly through her nose, forcing herself to remain calm and focused.
“I came to discuss the terms of our marriage,” she said, her voice steady and businesslike.
Julian’s eyebrow arched. “Terms?” He spoke the word as though it was a curiosity, something unexpected and faintly amusing. “My dear Joan, I wasn’t aware our marriage required negotiation. I thought the matter was settled.”
“Nothing is settled until we agree on certain conditions,” Joan replied. She moved to stand before his desk, positioning herself so that the massive piece of furniture was between them, a barrier, however symbolic.
Julian watched her with growing interest, like a cat watching a mouse that had done something unexpectedly clever.
Joan met his gaze directly. “I know precisely why you’re so insistent on marrying into the Sinclair family. And it has nothing to do with affection for either myself or Victoria.”
“Doesn’t it?” Julian’s tone was mocking. “Perhaps I simply fell desperately in love with Victoria’s beauty and charm. Or perhaps, upon reflection, I’ve transferred those feelings to you.”
“You’re marrying a Sinclair because we’re positioned exactly where you need us to be for your ambitions,” Joan continued, ignoring his sarcasm. “Let me enumerate the reasons, so we both understand that I’m not a naive fool you can manipulate.”
She began counting off on her gloved fingers, her voice taking on the clinical precision of someone presenting evidence.
“First: we’re not so powerful that we would overshadow you. A union with a duke’s family or an earl with significant landholdings would leave you perpetually in your wife’s shadow. You’d become ‘the Duchess’s husband’ rather than standing on your own merit. But the Sinclairs have position without overwhelming power. We enhance you without eclipsing you.”
Julian’s smirk had faded slightly. He was listening now with genuine attention.
“Second: we’re prominent enough that association with us elevates your standing considerably. My brother holds a respected position at Court. Our family has been received in the best houses. An alliance with us opens doors that would otherwise remain closed to someone of your… background.”
The slight pause before “background” was deliberate. A reminder that for all his wealth and power, Julian’s grandfather had been a merchant, a fact that would always mark him as a little less than noble in the eyes of old aristocracy.
“Third, and perhaps most importantly: we’re a family known for scholarship, propriety, and moral rectitude. Our reputation is spotless—or it was, before you manufactured this scandal. That’s exactly the sort of noble polish your merchant family’s fortune requires to be taken seriously by established society.”
Joan took a step closer to the desk, her eyes never leaving Julian’s face.
“You need us to transform you from a wealthy upstart to a respected peer. That’s why you pursued Victoria so aggressively. That’s why you’re willing to marry me instead. Any Sinclair will do for your purposes.”
For a long moment, silence filled the study.
Then Julian threw his head back and laughed, a genuine sound of surprised delight. He pushed away from the desk and clapped his hands together slowly, mockingly.
“How wonderfully perceptive you are!” he exclaimed. “I knew you were the clever sister, Victoria mentioned as much during our courtship, but this exceeds even my expectations.”
He circled around the desk, moving closer to her. Joan held her ground, refusing to retreat.
“You’ve analyzed the situation with perfect clarity,” Julian continued. “I’m almost impressed. Most young ladies would be weeping and wringing their hands, bemoaning their cruel fate. But you, you’ve approached this like a business transaction. How refreshingly practical.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Joan said coolly. “Because I have conditions for this transaction.”
“Do you now?” Julian’s smile turned predatory, his eyes glinting with something that made Joan’s skin crawl. “And what makes you think you’re in a position to make demands?”
“Because we both want this marriage to succeed,” Joan replied. “You need me cooperative, not resentful. You need me to play the role of devoted wife convincingly enough that society believes it. And I can do that, or I can make both our lives miserable. The choice is yours.”
Julian studied her for a long moment, then gestured magnanimously. “Very well. State your conditions.”
Joan took a breath and began.
