“Well, Mr. Blair, you were right about one thing. I did need the Madeira.” Juliana fetched her tumbler from the table in front of her and swallowed the last sip of the sweet wine.
He turned to face her, a slight smile on his hard lips. “Will you have another glass?”
“No. I think not. I fancy I’ll need to keep my wits about me.”
He took a healthy swallow from his own glass, then strode across the room and took a seat on the sofa across from hers. “I’m listening, Lady Juliana. What did you wish to discuss with me?”
Another brief silence fell as they took each other’s measure, then Juliana cleared her throat. “I’ll expect you to abide by one or two conditions once we’re wed, Mr. Blair.” Her cheeks warmed, but discussing their marriage as a foregone conclusion seemed as good a strategy as any. “It’s only fair I warn you about them in advance.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Call me Logan, lass. It’s only proper, since we seem to be betrothed now.”
Juliana scowled. For pity’s sake, he looked as if he was actually enjoying himself. “This isn’t a game. I’m quite serious.”
He gave her an indulgent smile. “All right, then. What do I need to understand, my lady?”
“To begin with, there’s Grace to consider. She’s a very affectionate child. She’ll likely be eager to spend time with you. I don’t see any way to avoid that, but you will not, under any circumstances, attempt to interfere with any of my decisions regarding her. She’smyniece. I’ll decide how she’s raised.”
He regarded her in silence for a moment, then he asked, “Since you’re to call me Logan, may I call you Lina?”
Juliana stared at him. For goodness sakes, had he even heard a word of what she’d just said? “No, you certainly may not call me Lina. Only Fitzwilliam calls me that.”
“Julia, then? Lady Juliana is too much. It wearies the tongue.”
Juliana huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry to have exhausted you, Mr. Blair.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone. “I’ll call you Ana. Pretty name, that is. Simple.”
Simple and pretty, yes, but nothername, for all that. “You still haven’t assured me you accept my restriction regarding Grace, Mr. Blair.”
He sighed. “I hope you’re not this stubborn once we’re married.”
Juliana ignored this. “Do I have your word?”
He shrugged. “All right, but it’s a pity. I’m good with children.”
Juliana found that difficult to believe, but she held her tongue. “As for the second thing. Despite what you seem to think, I’m not a great heiress. I have my mother’s fortune, but it’s not the sort of money I suspect you’re imagining.”
Ah, he didn’t care for that at all. Itwasoffensive for her to insinuate he cared about her money. She intended it as a clarification of her circumstances, not as an insult, but Mr. Blair’s lips went so tight they whitened at the edges.
“As for the rest of the money and properties, they will pass into a trust for Grace when my father dies,” she went on, ignoring the ominous color rising in his cheeks. “Graystone Court, the various other country estates, the house in town—all of it belongs to Grace.”
“That’s enough,” he warned in a low, hard voice.
“My mother’s fortune includes an estate in Buckinghamshire. It’s called Rosemount. I intend to remove there after…”
After my father dies.
She swallowed. “Rosemount is charming, but rather small. Not at all grand like Graystone Court.”
“I don’t give a damn about—”
“The trust with the rest of the fortune—which is considerable, I grant you—will be administered by the Marquess of Pierce. My husband won’t be able to touch a penny of it. My father and I decided it was best that way, you see, to discourage fortune hunters.”
Mr. Blair was reining in his temper with an effort. “Are you accusing me of being a fortune hunter?”
“Not at all. I simply wish to be honest with you.”
“It’s always about money with the English, isn’t it?” His eyes flashed with temper. “Let me be understood, my lady. I don’t have any interest in your fortune.”
