“Not until you reveal your intentions.”
“My intentions?”
“You kissed Katherine!”
He groaned. This served him right for mauling his intended, did it not?
“Billiards,” he said, while carefully running his fingers along the wall in search of the latch, “is remarkably popular at Southford.”
“Oh, do stay still,” Julia whispered. “You cannot fit past me, and you will not leave until I say so.”
“I see your respect for my consequence matches that of your siblings.” He bumped up against her arm and then jerked back.
“Give me one reason,” Julia replied, “I owe you respect.”
He could not honestly argue his station, could he? “I will address your concerns, but elsewhere. Outrage, I understand—honor, even. But, my dear young friend, you have whisked an unmarried gentleman into a dark, confined place. The riskchills. Open the door before someone finds us and jumps to a very wrong, very disastrous conclusion.”
“Pardon?” He heard a sharp intake of breath. “Ew!”
“My sentiments exactly.” He stuck his thumb beneath his cravat and loosened the fabric. “Now, will you open the panel?”
“Not until you answer my question.”
“My intentions are not your—” He stopped.
The phantom presence of a tearful Clarissa holding back her enraged brother Rayne stunned him into silence. Clarissa, insisting she had been the one to decline marriage and simultaneously pleading with Rayne to withdraw his issued challenge. Bromton would have found himself on the receiving end of a loaded dueling pistol had it not been for Clarissa. Because Clarissa loved her brother, she’d insisted he and Rayne mend their rift. Because Rayne loved Clarissa, Rayne had…at least in public.
Siblings defended one another.
And if Markham had seen what Julia had seen, like Rayne, he would plan an appointment at dawn.
“My intentions,” he repeated more softly, “are honorable.”
Another gasp. “Have you told Markham?”
“Yes.”
“Marriage?”
Guilt flared at the sound of her happy squeal.
“If,” he amended, “I can persuade the lady to agree.”
“Where is your estate?” she asked.
Pardon?“Northumberland.”
Julia harrumphed. “That might as well be Scotland. I will not help you, then.”
“Help me?” he sputtered.
“Northumberland is too far from London.” Julia sighed in exasperation. “You are of no use.”
Good God, if Katherine was a hellion, Julia was a positive firebrand. To survive her debut, she’d need two—or twenty—chaperones, each with a very sharp eye. Even then, Markham and Katherine would have to use every powerful connection they possessed.
A slow smile spread his lips.
Every powerful connection…like a marquess who could claim royal godparents. For the first time since his pursuit, he felt he could bring Lady Katherine something she would value.
