“Yes…just like a team of horses,” Rayne replied. “Those of more experience lead, and those ofless, follow.”
“Oh, pardon me,” Julia said sarcastically. “Your advantage of four—maybe five—years is clearlysovast.”
Katherine glanced to Giles. He winked and held out his arm.
“Shall we leave them to their choice?” His lips twitched. “I, for one, could use some refreshment.”
“Certainly,” she replied.
They stopped next to a cloth-covered table just a few yards away. Giles poured two glasses of lemonade from a tall pitcher.
“Don’t be concerned on Rayne’s behalf.” Giles handed her a glass. “Julia is providing but a small measure of what he normally gives.”
Katherine hummed. “I can just hear the tales Lord Rayne will tell in London.” She lowered her voice to mimic Rayne, “How unfortunate for Markham—one of his sisters is unmarriageable and the other is a reckless hoyden.”
“Unmarriageable no more,” Giles replied with a slanted grin. “And I can assure you, Rayne is not the type to tell tales.”
“I hope not.” Katherine raised a brow. “Still, I don’t imagine many people are prepared for Julia.”
Giles laughed. “She’s quite unique, isn’t she?”
Katherine bit her lip. “Have I overindulged her outspoken nature?”
“She’s charming,” Giles sipped and then sighed with satisfaction. “With time and a little polish, she’ll turn every head in London.”
Katherine tested the lemonade, too. The tartness tingled. She shielded her eyes and studied her sister.
Julia’s hair was piled high atop her head, making her look far older than her years, but she was leveling her gaze at Rayne with a youthful, undisguised scowl.
“Julia turning every head in London is my worst fear.”
“You fear Julia will suffer as you suffered?”
“I fear,” she confessed, “another Stanley scandal is inevitable.”
Giles exchanged some unspoken, masculine communication with Markham, who rose from his seat and joined Julia and Rayne.
“Julia is young.” Katherine exhaled. “Too young.”
“She is inexperienced, yes,” he agreed, “but a sizable number of ladies are wedded by eighteen. Were you not about her age when you were first betrothed?”
Yes. Katherine frowned. And after having experienced esteem between equals, she also understood she had made a terrible mistake when she’d gone to her father and told him she wished to wed.
Giles’s gaze rested on hers, searching and intent.
“I’d war with Markham if he considered permitting Julia to marry as young as my father did me.”
“Are you angry at your father, then?” he asked.
She thought of her father—nervous and scholarly and completely unequal to the task of raising a family after her mother had died. “My father gave me what I wanted. But what one wants and what one needs are often not the same. Although…” she smiled, “it would be churlish to remain angry when I am so happy, now.”
Giles did not return her smile.
“Perhaps he was too quick to permit my betrothal,” Katherine continued. “But I understood his reasoning. If I married Septimus, I would remain close enough to Southford to continue to organize his papers and correspondence, as I’d done since my mother’s death. Besides, he knew I had no interest in engaging with the wider world.”
…mostly because her world had revolved around Septimus.
“Is it not a parent’s office to do what is best for their child?” Giles asked.
