“Shall we go down?”
She tucked her hand around his arm. He loved these small signs that they were now a couple.
“Why did Kirkland and Mackenzie look so surprised at the idea of your marrying?” she asked as they left the room.
“I used to be quite vehement that I’d never take a wife, particularly if doing so would gratify my Uncle Daventry.” He smiled wryly. “It was only recently that I recognized how foolish it would be to deny myself something I wanted merely because he wanted it, too.”
“The unglamorous wisdom of maturity.” They shared a warm glance. As they headed for the stairs, he said, “I think it best to explain to Kirkland and Mackenzie that Daventry is after you, and why. Shall I do the talking?”
She sighed. “Please. Just—don’t tell them the more humiliating details.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “And neither of them will speak of anything you prefer to keep private.” They began to descend the stairs. “Now, Lady Julia Raines, it’s time to leave the shadows and move into the light.”
“We won’t need you again, Tanner,” Kirkland said. After the butler left the dining room, he continued, “I hope I get credit for controlling my curiosity through dinner. Julia, have you ever yearned to see what the gentlemen talk about over port? This is your opportunity.”
“I think I’m better off not knowing.” She was about to rise and take her leave when Randall’s gaze caught hers. She could almost hear him thinking that if she was to face down London society, she should be able to face two men who were his friends. “But I suppose I should stay since the conversation concerns me.”
Kirkland nodded as if that was natural. “If you’re not familiar with port etiquette, I am allowed to serve a lady on my right”—he poured her a half glass of ruby wine—“but otherwise, the custom is to always slide the decanter to the left”—he demonstrated, pushing the crystal decanter down the polished mahogany to Randall—“and never to lift it unnecessarily, since a gentleman who has drunk too much might spill some.”
“Which would be a grievous waste,” Mackenzie said piously.
As Randall poured his port, Kirkland said, “You mentioned that the story behind your betrothal is complicated, Randall. Care to elaborate?”
“Though you know Julia as Mrs. Bancroft, her real name is Lady Julia Raines,” Randall said succinctly as he slid the decanter to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie caught his breath, so startled he temporarily forgot to fill his glass. “You were married to Branford, Lady Julia?”
Julia winced inwardly. “Yes.”
“You have my sympathies.”
“On his death?” she asked dryly.
“On having been married to him.” Mackenzie looked as if he’d tasted sour wine. He poured himself a drink, then passed the decanter back toward Kirkland. “He would have made the very devil of a husband, and that’s putting it charitably.”
“Exactly,” Randall said, mercifully drawing attention from Julia. “One day when he was drunk and violent, Julia shoved him while she was trying to escape. He fell and hit his head and died. Unfortunately, his father, my Uncle Daventry, blamed Julia. The situation became so untenable that Julia faked her death and ran away.”
Kirkland’s brows arched. “I suspected that your background was unusual, Julia, but I didn’t guess this. If you’re a Raines, you must be Castleton’s daughter?”
“I was once,” she said tersely. “He disowned me.”
“You’re still his daughter, no matter what the old curmudgeon chose to do with his will.” Kirkland studied her intently. “So you hid in the wilds of Cumberland and became a midwife. Randall coaxed you out of hiding?”
“I would have been content to stay in Hartley forever.” She thought wistfully of her peaceful, useful life and the friends she’d made. “But I must have been recognized when I visited London with Mariah because four days ago I was abducted by
She tucked her hand around his arm. He loved these small signs that they were now a couple.
“Why did Kirkland and Mackenzie look so surprised at the idea of your marrying?” she asked as they left the room.
“I used to be quite vehement that I’d never take a wife, particularly if doing so would gratify my Uncle Daventry.” He smiled wryly. “It was only recently that I recognized how foolish it would be to deny myself something I wanted merely because he wanted it, too.”
“The unglamorous wisdom of maturity.” They shared a warm glance. As they headed for the stairs, he said, “I think it best to explain to Kirkland and Mackenzie that Daventry is after you, and why. Shall I do the talking?”
She sighed. “Please. Just—don’t tell them the more humiliating details.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “And neither of them will speak of anything you prefer to keep private.” They began to descend the stairs. “Now, Lady Julia Raines, it’s time to leave the shadows and move into the light.”
“We won’t need you again, Tanner,” Kirkland said. After the butler left the dining room, he continued, “I hope I get credit for controlling my curiosity through dinner. Julia, have you ever yearned to see what the gentlemen talk about over port? This is your opportunity.”
“I think I’m better off not knowing.” She was about to rise and take her leave when Randall’s gaze caught hers. She could almost hear him thinking that if she was to face down London society, she should be able to face two men who were his friends. “But I suppose I should stay since the conversation concerns me.”
Kirkland nodded as if that was natural. “If you’re not familiar with port etiquette, I am allowed to serve a lady on my right”—he poured her a half glass of ruby wine—“but otherwise, the custom is to always slide the decanter to the left”—he demonstrated, pushing the crystal decanter down the polished mahogany to Randall—“and never to lift it unnecessarily, since a gentleman who has drunk too much might spill some.”
“Which would be a grievous waste,” Mackenzie said piously.
As Randall poured his port, Kirkland said, “You mentioned that the story behind your betrothal is complicated, Randall. Care to elaborate?”
“Though you know Julia as Mrs. Bancroft, her real name is Lady Julia Raines,” Randall said succinctly as he slid the decanter to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie caught his breath, so startled he temporarily forgot to fill his glass. “You were married to Branford, Lady Julia?”
Julia winced inwardly. “Yes.”
“You have my sympathies.”
“On his death?” she asked dryly.
“On having been married to him.” Mackenzie looked as if he’d tasted sour wine. He poured himself a drink, then passed the decanter back toward Kirkland. “He would have made the very devil of a husband, and that’s putting it charitably.”
“Exactly,” Randall said, mercifully drawing attention from Julia. “One day when he was drunk and violent, Julia shoved him while she was trying to escape. He fell and hit his head and died. Unfortunately, his father, my Uncle Daventry, blamed Julia. The situation became so untenable that Julia faked her death and ran away.”
Kirkland’s brows arched. “I suspected that your background was unusual, Julia, but I didn’t guess this. If you’re a Raines, you must be Castleton’s daughter?”
“I was once,” she said tersely. “He disowned me.”
“You’re still his daughter, no matter what the old curmudgeon chose to do with his will.” Kirkland studied her intently. “So you hid in the wilds of Cumberland and became a midwife. Randall coaxed you out of hiding?”
“I would have been content to stay in Hartley forever.” She thought wistfully of her peaceful, useful life and the friends she’d made. “But I must have been recognized when I visited London with Mariah because four days ago I was abducted by
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