“We’ll soon see.” He stepped aside. “After you.”
“My, my…how chivalrous.” Her lips twitched as she passed. “What other new leaves have you turned over?”
“Too many at once, I think.”
Together, they reached the landing. Just inside the door, Markham held Julia, repeatedly mumbling, “Thank God!”
“See now?” Clarissa called out to her husband. “I told you that you needn’t worry. Julia is healthy and sound.” Her gaze slid to Rayne. “And—no doubt—perfectly capable of taking care of my brother.”
“Just what had he expected to find?” Rayne asked under his breath.
Clarissa surveyed the room and then quirked a brow in his direction. “Exactly this scene, I suspect. Minus the nuptials, of course. Good go, there. But really, Rayne, the bedchamber is only one floor up.”
He grunted. “At least she managed to get dressed.”
“I think I’ll busy myself while Markham is otherwise occupied.” Clarissa sidled over to the table, gently adjusting the tablecloth, righting the glasses, and then moving the chairs back into place. She lifted the pair of still-knotted napkins and raised her brows.
Rayne glared.
The cutlery, she mouthed.
Rayne dropped to the floor, searching for the knives.
“How could you?” Markham said to Julia. “You’ve broken Katherine’s heart, you know. She gave up everything so you could have a respectable marriage.”
“Markham, Idohave a respectable marriage.”
“An anvil wedding”—Markham’s voice rose—“is hardly respectable.”
“I’ll have you know, Rayne paid handsomely for a perfectly pleasant parlor, in a hall with a proper parson—Bible and all.”
“Gretna Hall? Proper?” Markham made a dismissive noise. “Everyone knows that Laing fellow was impressed into John Paul Jones’s crew!”
“Was he?” Julia laughed. “How marvelous! Well, Rayne, seems I delivered you to a pirate after all.”
Rayne hit his head on the table. Clarissa snickered.
“Pardon?” Markham frowned.
“Never mind.” Julia waved her hand. “Colorful past or no, none of Mr. Laing’s marriages has ever been declared invalid.”
“There’s always a first,” Markham said through his teeth.
“Markham, Ilovemy husband. I never stopped.”
Rayne dropped his head and the spoon.
Damn everything, his hand still tingled from smacking her bare buttocks. While she was tied…to his dining table.
“You don’t lovehim.” Markham echoed Rayne’s own thoughts. “You love some idea you created.”
Rayne slipped out from beneath the table and stood. “As I’ve tried to make her see.”
“He’s a rake, Julia. A ruin. You’ll be humiliated. And for all his wealth, he’s done nothing to ensure his estate or tenants thrive. How can you begin to respect a man like that?”
There, too, Rayne had no point to argue. No alternative truth to provide.
“He’s right,” Rayne said roughly. “I am inherently cruel. And I never put an ounce of effort into this estate.”
