Edward, though, the perfect son—the son who should have been the firstborn, according to their father—had instantly been taken with Jo. Julian had always put it down to how much Edward had reviled both Julian and their mother. And Julian had, in turn, reviled Edward with equal vehemence. Edward, a faultless sycophant to their father, had never once experienced the old bastard’s fists.
But that was all a lifetime ago now, Edward long gone to the Continent, and his sisters awaited the reason for their summoning with ill-disguised curiosity. “You will be moving here with me,” he told them.
Alexandra, ever an imp, was first to respond. “TanteLydia won’t allow it, you know. She says your reputation rivals only the devil himself.”
Julian kept his expression carefully blank. The ancient bit of baggage had certainly never spared him any love, so he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to hear her opinion of him. She did, after all, share blood with the former Earl of Ravenscroft, who was currently rotting in the family plot just as he deserved. “Great Aunt Lydia is not your guardian. I am. She can bloody well carry on with attending temperance meetings and sewing for charities like the wizened old bird that she is.”
“Wizened old bird.” Josephine grinned. “One must admit it’s an apt description.”
“She is rather a dragon,” Alexandra conceded. “But why now, Julian?TanteLydia says you’re in debt up to your nose. She says Edward ought to have been the earl rather than you.”
“Not even enough coin to keep proper servants,” Josephine added. “No housekeeper to speak of. Quite a shame, she says, that you’ve squandered every last shilling on harlots and drink. Edward never would have done, according to her.”
He grimaced before he could think better of it, tamping down the old rage that surged inside him at the mentioning of his brother’s name. “TanteLydia damn well ought to keep her misinformation to herself. I strongly doubt Edward would have fared any better than myself at managing the mountain of debt the previous earl saddled me with. As it is, the paragon is too busy gallivanting across the Continent at present to grace us with his illustrious presence. Moreover, the task of outfitting this house with a proper staff will belong to my wife.”
His sisters gaped.
“Are you soused?” Alexandra asked. “TanteLydia said our father was a drunkard and a wastrel and that you’ve chosen the same sad path.”
A chill went down his spine at being compared to that particular rotter. He was nothing like his father. Not one goddamn part of him. But that was neither here nor there, for the dead earl and the misery he’d inflicted upon Julian was best left buried in the past along with any thoughts of his brother. Edward was just as dead to him as the bastard who’d fathered them both.
“Of course I’m not soused.” But he was fast losing patience with the overly opinionated ladies before him. “Has our paragon Aunt Lydia forgotten to remind you two of the necessity of possessing manners? I’ll thank you not to repeat anything else the crone has said.”
For the first time in as long as he could recall, Julian was sober as a teetotaler. He hadn’t a drop of drink since three days prior when he’d suddenly acquired his future countess. He’d nearly completed negotiations with Miss Whitney’s still-irate papa. He’d made his bargains and his peace with the tattered remnants of his conscience. He was in possession of a marriage license and soon, he’d be in possession of a great sum of coin and stocks and one beautiful little dove.
His to do with as he chose.
Surreal, all of it. Too facile by far. He felt like Hades securing himself a Persephone. Fitting, that comparison. He’d lured the girl into his underworld without even trying. She’d set foot in his dark world first, God help her.
Alexandra had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “In truth, I think she’s growing addle pated in her dotage. Quite hard of hearing.”
“None of that explains your alarming lack of civility.” He would hire a proper chaperone for them immediately. Or send them far away to a Swiss finishing school. Yes, perhaps that would be just the thing. How had he thought them a lovely pair of innocents mere moments ago?
“Your wife?” Josephine repeated. “Have you one, then?”
Damnation, he hadn’t recalled that his sisters were this trying. Admittedly, it had been some time since he’d abandoned them to the disapproving protection ofTanteLydia. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. At least someone was moving the conversation forward at last. “I will have a wife within the week.”
“Not you.” Alexandra’s tone dripped with disbelief.
Josephine stared at him as if he’d suddenly manifested magical powers and had transformed himself into a mythical creature. “Damn it all, did you say within the week?”
He glowered at both of his troublesome siblings. These girls were a handful, by damn. “Precisely what has our esteemed, ossified great aunt been teaching you about comportment? I begin to think I did you an injustice in leaving you in her care.”
Alexandra grinned. “But near-sighted, almost deaf aunts make perfect chaperones.”
“Wonderfully easy to elude.” Jo’s smile was serene.
Hellfire. He didn’t dare imagine the sort of scrapes the girls had gotten themselves into whileTanteLydia snoozed into her needlework. Their familial reprieve, it seemed, was coming at a crucial moment. “Do try to at least pretend to be civilized ladies, you lot. If I’m ever to find you suitable husbands, you’ll need to stop cursing and exhibiting such cheek.”
“No one will wed us anyway.” Alexandra waved a hand as if to dash away his concern. “We haven’t any dowries and our brother is the Earl of Ravenscroft.”
His mood grew more dire by the moment. “While I’m afraid I cannot change the fact that I’m your brother, a dowry you both shall have. Upon my marriage, I’ll be a very wealthy man, and I intend to use a generous portion of that wealth to see that the two of you are happy for the rest of your lives.”
Josephine and Alexandra exchanged a prolonged glance of incredulity.
Julian tapped his fingers on his desk, irritation needling him. Was it truly that difficult to believe he was marrying? “Dear sisters,” he drawled, “never say my reputation is so black that you don’t believe me.”
“You’re not…you wouldn’t force a girl to marry you, would you, Julian?”
