Seizing the element of surprise, she whirled around on her feet and stormed out of the bathhouse, and that very disconcerting, very unsettling man, who claimed to know more about herfamily than she did.
The way he spoke of their family—well, there was clearly no love lost there. Juliana wondered briefly if Kit had crossed him, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall all the men her brother had angered. She soon capitulated and despaired, realizing there were simply too many of them.
What was even more infuriating was that when she arrived back at the townhouse, she found her brother reclining on the threadbare chaise longue in the parlor, his booted feet propped up against the edge. Fortunately, he had managed a bath and a change of clothes, but it did little to pacify the resentment in her heart.
Without warning, she tossed the parcel at him with a force that would have Grandmama in tears, instantly knocking him awake.
“Juliana! What the hell is that about?” he demanded, flailing like a freshly landed halibut.
“I amnever, everdelivering anything for you again!” she seethed. To her dismay, she realized that her voice was trembling not only because of rage, but also because of a lingering breathlessness from her recent encounter. “You can find your Mr. Anderson by yourself!”
She was done with him—done with his antics and the way he dragged the family deeper into debt. Fury rose in her at how easily her composure crumbled when that man had looked at her, her skin drawn tight, her body buzzing from the ghost of his touch. She was done with clandestine meetings in steamy baths, with strange men who stirred unwelcome sensations and left her weak and resentful, angry that she could no longer reclaim her own thoughts from the man who now seemed to own them.
From now on, Kit could very well run his errands on his own.
Chapter 3
“For goodness’s sake, Juliana, do please stop chewing on your lip when we have this delicious beef before us.”
Juliana blinked at her grandmama’s admonishment. Earlier that day, after she had tossed the package at Kit in the parlor, he had jumped up, eyes wild, as if in great panic. She had meant to ask him then who this Mr. Anderson was, but he had already rushed out the door, the parcel tucked under his arm.
She was not as easily swayed as her brother was. She had heard the undercurrent of warning in the voice of the man—she absolutely refused to call him a gentleman—from the bathhouse. Whoever this Mr. Anderson was, he certainly was not someone engaged in aboveboard dealings, and if Kit was involved…
Their impending poverty might not be the most pressing problem they would be facing.
“Grandmama?”
Her grandmother did not even lift her gaze in her direction as she continued to enjoy the very same beef she had praised earlier. Juliana had not the heart, nor the patience, to arguethat the meat was tougher than rubber and tasted just as bad, if not worse. There were far more worrying matters than the poor dinner fare.
“Have you noticed that Kit seems… a little bit on edge?” she pressed.
At the mention of her grandson, the dowager finally raised her eyes. “What do you mean, Juliana?” she sighed patronizingly, as if she were talking to a child. “Naturally, your poor brother has a great deal on his mind. It falls to him to uphold the status of the household, as you like to keep reminding him.”
“But these things that he has tasked me to deliver—”
Her grandmother sighed as if Juliana was testing the last dregs of her patience. “My dear child, your brother is a man, and the dealings between gentlemen are not as straightforward as we ladies would like to think. Worry not for him, my dear. He will find his way well enough.”
Was she to wait quietly at home until she heard of men finding Kit in a ditch? Should she, as his older sister, allow him to enter into transactions with unsavory, possibly criminal, persons?
Knowing Kit and how easily he could be beguiled into the next thing promising him quick profits, Juliana had even fewer doubts about the impropriety of whatever business he was involved in and even greater worry for her brother.
“You know what you should be worried about, dear girl?” her grandmama continued.
“What, Grandmama?”
“Yourself,” the older lady told her bluntly. “You have two failed Seasons behind you and no potential suitors. Whatever yourbrother is doing to restore the family fortunes should be the least of your worries.”
Juliana gripped her fork until her knuckles turned white. “Grandmama,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even. “We can hardly afford staff, let alone the costs of a new Season. The gowns alone—”
“Then you should probably put more effort into it, should you not?” her grandmama shrugged. “As a woman, that is your highest priority.”
“Yes, I can see how marrying the first fool to ask for my hand in marriage will magically solve all of this world’s ailments,” Juliana muttered. “Not to mention that marriage requires a dowry, which almost everyone in thetonis quite aware I do not possess.”
“When your brother has paid off his debts, I shall enjoin him to make it a priority.” Grandmama let out a choked sound around the mouthful of beef she had been chewing. “However, you, my dear, cannot just lie about either. Husbands are not to be found in studies and libraries, you know?”
Oh, she knew very well. She wondered, though, if they could be found in extremely exclusive, private bathhouses…?
In her mind, she could see the steam rising all around her. Hear the water sloshing as it swirled around his thick thighs. The soft lamplight glinted off his skin, turning it a burnished gold that seemed to beg for her touch, quietly goading her to see for herself the difference between his physique and her own.
