A collective sigh washed past him. Meg shook her head. “Heavens, brother. You should at least know her name if you plan on making her your wife.”
He knew her damned name. Most of the time. He’d considered writing it down before making his announcement, just in case, but then they would have made the same comment. He gritted his teeth. “They are very similar sounding names,” he ground out. “Anabelle. Isabelle. Surely I can be forgiven for the odd mix-up.”
Winnie snorted. “As long as you don’t mix it up at the altar.”
“Or in bed,” Jac muttered.
Peter flushed. “That is an entirely inappropriate comment for a young lady.”
“But not an untruthful one.”
“Jacqueline Halie Montgomery.” Her comment more closely resembled the response he’d been expecting. “I’ve told you all now. You’ve heard it from me. I hope that satisfies you. You won’t find out about it from a maid or a newspaper.”
“Will she?” Winnie asked with a smirk. “Or will you simply send off the betrothal announcement and let her discover the fact over tea and biscuits?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Never. He would never, ever live that down. They would torment him with that misstep for the rest of his life. “I plan to visit her father this afternoon and make all the arrangements.”
“How romantic,” Meg muttered.
Winnie growled and threw a cushion at him. “But do youloveher?”
The cushion was a boon. Crushing it stopped him from crushing something, someone, else. “She is an amiable enough woman. I’m sure I will come to like her.”
“You will come tolikeher?” Their collective shriek grated along his already drawn and fraying senses.
“Yes. That is enough. The decision is made.” For the next thirty-odd seconds his sisters ranted, all three at once, all three outraged, none them caring that the cacophony was unintelligible and their meaning had been completely lost.
“At least it’s not Lady Cecilia,” Jac said. That was the comment that drew their chaos into controlled, unified dissent. “Could you imagine having breakfast with her every morning?” she continued.
“I would go to live with Meg,” Winnie replied.
Meg shook her head. “No, you would not,” she said. “I love you, sister, and I especially love tovisityou.”
“Then I shall get married.”
“Good,” Jac replied. “Then none of us will have to listen to your incessant chatter.”
Peter quietly placed the cushion beside Jac and began to back out of the room. The news had been delivered. If his sisters were arguing among themselves, then they weren’t arguing with him.
He’d not gotten four feet before Meg pinned him with a glare. “Forget it, brother.”
He sighed and reversed direction. “Lady Anabelle—”
“Isabelle,” all three sisters interjected.
Blast.“Yes. Regardless, Lady Isabelle seems perfectly amiable.” Amiable like mashed potatoes. “If you have any worthwhile objections to her, now is the time to speak them.”
“You’re not in love with her.”
“That is not aworthwhileobjection,” he responded.
“She is dull.”
“You three are not. She will balance out the household.”
“She can barely hold a conversation.”
“I do not need a chatty wife.”
