Julia’s warm, tiny hands circled Rayne’s wrists. “I hate carriages because my father drank gin—sometimes until he couldn’t walk or speak. He drank until he became his own destruction.” She closed her eyes, squeezing out the moisture gathered there. “You don’t confine me—you free me. But I won’t sit idly by while you destroy us both.” She sniffed. “Love should win, but it doesn’t always, does it?”
“I don’t know,” he choked out.
How could some amorphous emotion be strong enough to rescue a relic like the Grange? How could it be strong enough to rescue him?
Julia sent him a scathing expression and then headed for the stairs.
…
Rayne went to the window. He held on to the iron handles at the center of the sash with white-knuckled fists as the carriage pulled away.
Clarissa placed a hand on his back. “She’s not gone for good. She is simply giving you time to realize you’re wrong.”
“How do you know?” His voice cracked.
“Because she’s like her brother—and believe me, I’ve made a fine study of him. She’ll cool off, think things over, and realize that leaving you to make an ass of yourself isn’t her preferred plan.”
“You speak as ifmaking anass out of myselfis a forgone conclusion.’
“Well, I can’t say for sure, of course, but so far, you’ve given me little reason to hope.”
Rayne slanted his sister a glance. “I told her I loved her, Clarissa. She didn’t believe me.”
“Apart from your—ahem—spiritedmarital relations, have you given Julia any reason to believe you love her?”
“Other than endowing her with my worldly goods?”
Clarissa snorted. “Generous of you. Especially when you know she’ll refuse every sixpence, if she leaves.”
He turned around and leaned against the wall. “She would, wouldn’t she?”
From the start, she’d wanted him. Not his title. Not his property. Just him.
What a royal ass he’d been, with his mocking bow and “at your service.”
He’d been prepared for her admiration that first meeting. He’d counted on her fascination, in fact. Arrogance on his part, but honest conceit.
He was tall, titled, and his presence had elicited a sufficient number of fan-covered giggles for him to know most women liked his look.
What he’d not expected was defiant challenge…direct provocation with a sickle-sharp, lustful edge. An edge theirspiritedcouplings had satiated, for brief periods, but hadn’t dulled in the least.
“Well, brother dearest.” Clarissa picked up the rent stockings. “I’ll say this—you do know how to make a scene. Wish I’d noticed these before Markham, of course.”
“Markham,” he gritted out, “shouldn’t have interfered.”
“Shouldn’t he?”
“Are you going to answer every question with a question?”
She chuckled. “A little habit I picked up from my husband, I’m afraid. Very useful when leading recalcitrant codgers to the truth. Besides, Markham wouldn’t be the man I love if he weren’t devoted to his family.”
He sighed. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Markham.”
She rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t cause trouble between us if you tried. Just like he can’t cause any trouble between you and Julia that you don’t allow.”
He sent her a brooding look.
“Do you want to know what I’d suggest?” Clarissa asked.
