Juliana raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you quite finished, Mr. Blair?”
He rested a casual arm against the mantelpiece and considered her with detached interest. “I only mean to remind you of how much you dislike me, lass. The last man in the world, remember?”
Behind her tight smile, Juliana’s teeth were clenched. “Given my circumstances, you are the last man in the world, Mr. Blair. Unfortunate, isn’t it? But here we are.”
He shrugged. “Four hours ago, you were disgusted at the idea of marrying me. Have you changed your mind?”
“No, indeed. In fact, while you were speaking just now I was reflecting on the cruelty of fate. But beggars, alas, cannot be choosers.”
A mocking smile drifted across his lips. “Are you begging me to marry you, my lady? How flattering.”
“Oh, you haven’t any reason to be flattered, I assure you. I haven’t the slightest wish to marry you, Mr. Blair. I’d sooner take one of the stable boys. You are, quite literally, my last resort.”
His full lips twitched. “I think you hold yourself too cheap. Shall we find out?”
He took a step toward the door, but Fitzwilliam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Logan turned to him in surprise. “To the stables, of course, to find a stable boy to marry Lady Juliana. There must be at least one who’ll have her. She is the daughter of a marquess.”
Juliana gave him a thin smile. “If I could persuade my father to accept such a match, I wouldn’t hesitate. But alas, a stable boy won’t do. No, as much as we both detest the idea, I’m afraid I’ll have to have you, Mr. Blair.”
“Have me, like you would a new bonnet, or a pair of slippers? No need to be afraid of that lass, because it won’t happen.”
Was that a trace of a smirk on his lips? Why, the gall of the man! Juliana’s cheeks heated with anger, and her gaze wandered to the fireplace poker.
It was one way to knock that infuriating smile from his lips.
She clenched her hands together in her lap to keep herself from snatching up the poker. “A marriage between us would solve a great many problems. You must see that, Mr. Blair.”
He raised one black eyebrow. “And cause a great many more. Or do you think we’d enjoy a lifetime of wedded bliss?”
Wedded bliss? Juliana nearly laughed aloud at the thought. “Oh, I’ve quite given up on any hope of wedded bliss.”
He regarded her with cool blue eyes. “But I haven’t, Lady Juliana.”
“Perhaps not, but you forfeited it when you stole those letters. Don’t forget, sir, you’re the reason we find ourselves in this unfortunate situation.”
“It will be more unfortunate still if we marry.”
Juliana had sworn to herself she’d keep her temper in check, but she recognized the sharp words burning her tongue for what they were—the first sign of rising fury. “If I can lower myself to marry a man who stole from me before he’d ever laid eyes on me, then surely you can reconcile yourself to a marriage of convenience.”
Logan Blair’s arm dropped from the mantel, and he took a step toward her, still wearing that amused smile. “Would you rather I’d stolen from you after I laid eyes on you?”
Juliana stared at him, too angry to trust herself to reply. She’d never before been tempted to strike another person, but right now she’d give anything to forget she was a lady and deliver a stinging slap to that handsome cheek.
Did he find this whole thing amusing? Perhaps this was all just a game to him, but she didn’t have the luxury of gambling with Grace’s future.
Mr. Blair wasn’t finished. “I don’t think it would have made much difference if I had laid eyes on you beforehand. You’ve got a sharp tongue, lass—a much sharper tongue than most English belles. That must be why you’ve had such difficulty bringing your betrotheds up to scratch.”
Oh, that was the outside of enough. Juliana’s palm began to tingle. The next thing she knew she was on her feet with her hand raised, her furious gaze fixed on those mocking lips.
Before she could slap the smirk off him, Fitz grasped her hand and tugged her over to a sofa a good distance away from his brother. “For God’s sake, Logan! Have you lost your mind? Leave off, will you? This situation is bad enough without you making it worse with your insults.”
Juliana allowed herself to be seated on the sofa, but her hands were shaking with fury, and she was ready to tear her hair out with frustration.
Her hair, or Logan Blair’s.
She darted a glance at him from under her eyelashes. His jaw was tight and his shoulders rigid. Logan Blair might affect a cool unconcern, but he was just as agitated as she was.
For her part, Juliana couldn’t recall ever being so livid in her life, but there was no point in trying to calmly reason with Mr. Blair. Both of them were already as furious as two hissing cats, and she could see this wasn’t going to end until one of them sank a claw deep into the flesh of the other.
It was going to be a brawl to the bitter end, and she’d just as soon Fitzwilliam wasn’t here to witness it. He was already more distressed than she’d ever seen him, and this was about to get much worse. “Fitzwilliam, I want you to leave me alone with Mr. Blair.”
Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s all right. I’m perfectly capable of speaking with your brother in private.”
“Go on, Fitz. I give you my word I won’t toss Lady Juliana into Beauly Firth, no matter how much she tempts me.” Mr. Blair was talking to Fitzwilliam, but his hard gaze never left Juliana’s face.
“Is that supposed to be amusing, Logan?” Fitzwilliam looked from one to the other of them, assessing their faces with tight lips. After a moment he rose to his feet, but he paused at the door, his brow creased with concern. “Are you sure, Lina?”
In truth, Juliana had no wish to be alone with Logan Blair, especially after she’d goaded him into a temper, but she wanted the business done, and they’d never get anywhere with Fitzwilliam in the room.
“Yes, quite sure. There’s no need to worry.” Juliana scraped together what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Very well, then.” Fitz shot his brother a warning glance, then he left the library, leaving the door half-open behind him.
Silence fell over the room. Mr. Blair, who’d retreated to the sideboard and now stood with his back to her, seemed in no hurry to break it. Long minutes passed without either of them saying a word.
Juliana didn’t fool herself into thinking a truce was forthcoming. They were each simply gathering their weapons and strength for the battle ahead.
It was a battle Juliana intended to win, and she knew just what she had to do.
“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’s my niece. 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 not her name, 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. It was offensive 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.”
“Ah. It must be a love match, then. How romantic.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Logan Blair was no longer amused. His infuriating smile had fled, and he regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Your father wants you to become a duchess, doesn’t he, Lady Juliana?”
Juliana’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t any idea how Mr. Blair could know what her father wanted, but she didn’t deny it was true. Her father had always dreamed she’d become the Duchess of Blackmore someday.
“I’m not a duke, or even a laird.” He took a casual sip from his glass, studying her over the rim. “If he won’t accept anything less than a title, then we can end this right now.”
Juliana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Not only did her father want a duke, he wanted Fitzwilliam. He hadn’t mentioned title or fortune in his will, because he took it as a matter of course she’d become Fitzwilliam’s duchess. She wasn’t certain how he’d react when he discovered he’d have to make do with a duke’s brother instead, but she didn’t intend to reveal this to Logan Blair. He didn’t need to know about all the lies she’d told. “He hasn’t made any demands of that sort, no.”
He eyed her, dangling his glass between long, surprisingly elegant fingers. “What of you, my lady? Are you determined to become a duchess?”
Juliana let out a short laugh. “I’ve never cared much about titles.”
He studied her face, his blue eyes calculating. “Is that so? Yet your other suitor was a marquess.”
She shrugged. “Lord Pierce is a dear friend.”
“A friend who also happens to be a marquess, and another friend who happens to be a duke. You have quite a few aristocratic friends, my lady.”
Juliana’s chin rose. “Lord Pierce is Grace’s uncle on her mother’s side, Mr. Blair. He’s as concerned with her welfare as I am. A marriage between us made sense.”
He laughed softly. “He couldn’t have been all that concerned. He went off and married another lady, didn’t he?”
She smiled coldly. “Yes, well, I confess it would be easier if my betrotheds would stop falling in love with other ladies. It puts me in a dreadful position.”
“I see that. Explain something to me, Lady Juliana. How is it your dear friend Lord Pierce allowed you to jilt him in the first place, given your niece’s dire circumstances?”
“Well, as to that…” Juliana trailed off, her face heating. She’d lied to Hugh, too, and now all her lies were catching up to her with a vengeance.
“Shame on you, Lady Juliana,” Mr. Blair murmured. “Lord Pierce thinks you’re on the verge of marrying Fitz as well, doesn’t he? You’ve told dozens of lies, and now you’ve made it worse by scampering off to Scotland without telling your father where you’ve gone. So deceptive, behind that pretty face.”
“Yes, well, looks are deceiving, are they not? I wouldn’t have guessed you were a thief, but there is the troublesome matter of my letters.”
She half-expected him to fall into a rage, but to her surprise, a smile crossed his lips. “Another reason why a marriage between us would be madness. You can’t wish to marry a thief.”
Madness indeed, yet it was Juliana’s only option, just the same. It was a pity her old governess Mrs. Crampton wasn’t alive to see her lies return to haunt her. The old woman would have been thrilled Juliana had received her just desserts.
She studied the toe of her ruined boot. “Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Blair. There’s a certain symmetry to a liar marrying a thief, don’t you agree? Perhaps we deserve each other.”
He dragged a finger slowly around the top edge of his empty glass. “Is that why you let Lord Pierce go? Because you believe he deserves better than you?”
His blue gaze narrowed on her face with such intensity, Juliana looked away. Instead she watched his finger slowly trace the rim of his glass.
Around and around…
“Lady Juliana? What made you decide to free Lord Pierce, when you knew your niece’s future was at stake?”
She jerked her gaze back to his face. “I released Lord Pierce from our betrothal because I believed he deserved to marry the lady he loves.”
“But you don’t believe your dear friend Fitzwilliam—the man you claim to care so much for—deserves the same?”
“On the contrary. I believe it wholeheartedly.” Juliana wished for Fitz’s happiness as fiercely as she wished for Grace’s, or for her own. To force him into a marriage would break her heart. The only difference between Hugh and Fitz was that this time she didn’t have any choice.
Mr. Blair leaned forward and dropped his glass onto the table. “Come now, lass. You could have said all of this in front of Fitz. You sent him away so we could both speak plainly, so let’s have it out. I’m refusing the offer of your hand. What do you intend
to do about it?”
Juliana’s heart began to pound, and she drew in a deep breath to calm it. Logan Blair wasn’t the sort of man one liked to threaten, but she didn’t have a choice. “If you refuse to agree to a marriage between us, I’ll accept Fitzwilliam’s offer to marry me, regardless of his betrothal.”
They were some of the ugliest words she’d ever uttered. Even as they left her lips, Juliana shuddered at the thought of following through with her threat. She’d given Hugh his freedom because she cared for him, and she couldn’t bear to be the reason he was kept apart from the lady he loved. Would she do less for Fitzwilliam? He was her oldest, dearest friend, the person she’d run to as a child to soothe her bruised knees, and later, when her girlish infatuations ended in disappointment, her bruised heart.
What sort of life could she make with him, if she forced him to abandon the lady he loved? How could he ever forgive her, if she demanded such a sacrifice of him? He’d make the best of it, because that was who Fitzwilliam was, but a marriage between them would destroy their friendship, and leave them with nothing but bitter regret.
She despised the idea of hurting him, but she couldn’t afford to make another mistake this time. Her father had still been reasonably healthy when he, Juliana, and Grace had gone to Buckinghamshire to visit Hugh. When Juliana had discovered Hugh was in love with Isla, she’d thought she still had plenty of time to find another man to marry. She’d released Hugh from their betrothal thinking she’d simply wait until next season, and find a proper gentleman then.
Less than a week after they’d returned to Surrey she’d realized her mistake. Her father had had another attack, and this time instead of recovering, he’d continued to deteriorate. All at once it became imperative she marry at once, before her father…before it was too late.
If she hadn’t given up Hugh to Isla, Juliana would be Lady Pierce even now, and Grace would be safe. Instead she’d tried to do the honorable thing, and she’d made a mess of it. She couldn’t afford to do the same with Fitzwilliam.
To Wed A Wild Scot Page 8