If he could ensure Julia’s success, perhaps, in the end, Katherine’s unavoidable loathing would mellow to mere dislike. Dislike he expected of any spouse. Dismissive tolerance between marquess and marchionesses had been so prevalent in the history of Bromton House and Castle, antipathy had likely seeped into the mortar.
“You are overlooking something,” he said.
“Am I?” Julia asked with a mocking air.
“As my marchioness, Lady Katherine could sponsor your Season.”
Deafening silence.
“You’d like that,” he ventured, “wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, I would,” she whispered harshly. “Only, I am not sure I believe you. Katherine said marriage could not make the rumors about her disappear.”
“She might not be granted an Almack’s voucher, but the patronesses have been known to be capricious.” And he’d done significant favors for one of them currently ruling the roost. “Almack’s notwithstanding, did I mention my London home is the second largest in Grosvenor Square?”
“Pfft,” was her succinct reply.
“You may ask Markham if you don’t believe me—he’s been a frequent guest.”
“Markham,” Julia said with a prideful air, “has a house in London, too.”
“Ah, but Bromton House is home to the Season’s most enviable crush.” Or at least it had been before his mother had abandoned her role. “Am I winning your favor?”
“You insult me, my lord.”
“And yet, had my estate been closer to London, you would have offered me your unqualified assistance.”
She scoffed. “I would haveconsideredoffering my assistance. I do not know the first thing about you.”
“I’ve told you my intentions toward your sister are honorable. I’ve told you I have an estate in Northumberland and a house in Town.” He sighed. “And I just told you I’d be willing to hold a ball in your favor. What else could you possibly wish to know?”
“Your answer to the most important question,” she replied without hesitation. “Would you make my sister a good husband?”
He blinked into the darkness.
He’d been drilled in traits required of a proper lord—pride, responsibility, authoritative action. He doubted those characteristics applied to Julia’s idea of a “good” husband. In truth, he hadn’t any idea what a “good” husband was. But his time to answer was running out.
“I would,” he replied, “endow your sister with wealth and property.”
“Never mind wealth and property. Would you be kind?”
Kind? He frowned.Kind?What peer concerned themselves with being kind?
Odd little family, these Stanleys. Daring to the edge of impertinence. Yet were they not driven by honor, in their own, distinctive way?
Someone should look out for them. Clearly, they were in need.
“I would,” he vowed, “give her every consideration.”
“Does ‘every consideration’ include welcoming her adored younger sister for long visits?”
Ah. He relaxed. Back to mercenary.Good. “What kind of man would separate two such devoted sisters? You may live with us, if you wish. After our wedding trip, of course.”
Another excited little gasp. “Do you promise?”
“On my honor,” he replied.
“On that condition,” she replied, “I will grant you my help.”
