That would happen later today, when he was fortified with drink.
“You spoke with them but they did not see fit to inform their own daughter of her impending nuptials?”
There was a bite in her tone he did not miss. She had never been terribly fond of her parents; he could only presume that much had not changed. He could not fault her for her feelings. The Marquess of Leighton was a selfish cad and the marchioness was, from what little he knew of the woman, no different. She had spent a good portion of Julianna’s youth cavorting in New York City high society instead of in London with her daughter.
At least Julianna had proven a bit different. She had only abandoned Sidney instead of her child.
He clasped his hands behind his back to keep from touching her again, as his fingertips so desperately itched to do. Now that he had touched her once, he was finding it nigh impossible not to want more.
“I informed Lord Leighton of my plans. I thought it wise for your mother and father to understand what is happening and just how firm I am that no interference will be tolerated,” he told her calmly. “Emily is mine, and I will not accept anything less than raising her as befits the daughter of a future marquess.”
Nothing and no one was going to stop him from raising his daughter as his own. Especially not Julianna.
“How good of you to tell them before you spoke with me.” The edge in her voice took on a note of bitterness no doubt aimed at him.
He ignored it. He had bitterness aplenty for the both of them, and she was the cause of it all.
“Tomorrow,” he bit out. “Cagney House.”
Without bowing to her, he turned and walked away.Christ, he needed to get sotted. Three bottles of wine ought to be a good enough beginning. Followed by some brandy. Or mayhap whisky. Anything to leave him suitably numb.
* * *
Julianna’s handsshook with the force of her outrage as she knocked on the door to her mother’s bedchamber. Part of her expected her mother to feign sleep and neglect to answer. If so, Julianna was prepared to burst over the threshold. Her relationship with her mother was marked with perpetual strain, but if Mama had been aware of Shelbourne’s intentions and had neglected to inform Julianna…
“Come,” her mother called.
Julianna stepped over the threshold and into her mother’s realm. The Marchioness of Leighton was seated upon a chaise longue, clad in a dressing gown, hair unbound. She had a book in her lap, which she glanced up from at Julianna’s entrance. Mama possessed a rare air of refined elegance that never failed to make anyone in her presence feel hopelessly dowdy andde tropby comparison. She had been born to great wealth, her own father having made his fortune in shipping, and she had the greatest of New York City high society in the palm of her dainty hand.
“Julianna, my darling,” her mother greeted. “I was expecting Leighton.”
That announcement rather took Julianna by surprise. “My father?”
“Alas. He claims to require an audience with me, which I have grudgingly allowed.” The marchioness sniffed as if she had caught wind of something foul.
Her mother’s dislike of her father was no surprise. Julianna was quite certain the two had not stood in the same room together beyond the span of one quarter hour in the last decade.
“Has he spoken to you about Lord Shelbourne?” Julianna asked as she wandered deeper into the chamber.
The room had been filled with bouquets of fresh flowers now that her mother was in residence once more. Nothing pleased her more than to be surrounded by beauty.
“What would Leighton have to say about Shelbourne?” her mother asked. “Do sit, darling. You are flitting about like a butterfly. It is taxing to watch.”
Reluctantly, Julianna seated herself on a chair opposite the marchioness. The urge to pace, the restlessness within her, did not want to be contained. “That he plans to marry me.”
“Of course he does, dearest.”
Julianna frowned. “You knew?”
“Leighton left me a note. Ordinarily, I ignore them without reading them, but I have been trying to persuade him to let me take the Gainsborough to New York City. I was hoping he may have finally relented.”
“When did he leave you the note?” Julianna demanded, nettled that her mother would be more concerned over a painting than her own daughter.
Although her mother’s polite disinterest in her life should have been more than familiar after all these years, she could not deny it was still a source of pain. Her life had been shadowed by relationships that failed to live up to even the most minimal of her expectations. Aside from her friendship with Hellie, that was. And Julianna had strained their sisterhood quite desperately by keeping Emily a secret.
“It may have been yesterday.” Mama gave a small shrug. “London is so very boring. All the days bleed together. It could have been the day before just as well.”
“Why did you not mention it to me?”
