“Well.” Wingate cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest, “I shall take my leave, then, if my lords have no further need of me.” The little man looked from Nick to Ralston, eager to be set free.
“You are free to go, Wingate,” Ralston said, his tone icy. “Indeed, I look forward to it.”
The lawyer exited, bowing quickly, as if afraid that he might never escape if he tarried too long. Once he had left the room, Nick consoled Juliana, “Don’t let yourself be fooled by Gabriel. He’s not as wicked as he seems. Some days, he simply likes to play the lord of the manor.”
“I believe that I am the lord of the manor, Nicholas,” Ralston pointed out dryly.
Nick winked at their sister. “Four minutes older, and he cannot help but hold it over me.”
Juliana offered Nick a small smile before turning her clear blue gaze on her eldest brother, “My lord, I should like to leave.”
Gabriel nodded. “Understandably. I will have your things brought to one of the chambers above stairs. You must be weary from your travels.”
“No. You do not understand. I would like to leave England. To return to Venice.” When neither Gabriel nor Nick spoke, she continued, her hands moving in time with her words, her accent thickening as emotion crept into her speech. “I assure you, I cannot comprehend why my father insisted I come here. I have friends at home who would happily welcome me—”
Gabriel cut her off, firmly. “You will stay here.”
“Mi scusi, my lord. I would prefer not to.”
“I’m afraid you do not have a choice.”
“You cannot keep me here. I do not belong here. Not with you…not in…England.” She spat the word as though it were foul-tasting.
“You forget that you are half-English, Juliana,” Nick said, amused.
“Never! I am Italian!” Her blue eyes flashed.
“And your personality shows it, kitten,” Gabriel drawled. “But you are the very portrait of our mother.”
Juliana looked to the walls. “Portraits? Of our mother? Where?”
Nick chuckled, charmed by her misunderstanding. “No. You will not find pictures of her here. Gabriel was saying that you look like our mother. Exactly like her, actually.”
Juliana slashed one hand through the air. “Never say such a thing to me again. Our mother was a—” She stopped herself, the silence in the room heavy with the unspoken epithet.
Ralston’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “I see we have found something upon which we can agree.”
“You cannot force me to stay.”
“I am afraid I can. I’ve already signed the papers. You are under my protection until you marry.”
Her eyes widened. “That is impossible. My father would never have required such a thing. He knew I have no intention of marrying.”
“Whyever not?” Nick asked.
Juliana spun on him, “I should think you would understand better than most. I will not repeat my mother’s sins.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “There is absolutely no reason that you would be anything like—”
“You will forgive me if I am not willing to take such a chance, my lord. Surely we can reach an accord?”
In that moment, Gabriel’s decision was made.
“You did not know our mother?”
Juliana held herself perfectly straight and proud, meeting Ralston’s gaze without flinching. “She left us nearly ten years ago. I believe it was the same for you?”
Ralston nodded. “We were not even ten.”
“Then I imagine neither of us has much love lost for her.”
“Indeed.”
They stood like that for a long moment, each testing the truth of the other’s words. Gabriel spoke first. “I will offer you a bargain.” Juliana shook her head in an instant denial before Ralston lifted one hand and halted her words. “This is not a negotiation. You will stay for two months. If, after that time, you decide that you would prefer to return to Italy, I will arrange it.”
She tilted her head as though considering the offer and the possibilities for escape. Finally, she nodded once in agreement. “Two months. Not a day more.”
“You may have your pick of the bedchambers above stairs, little sister.”
She dropped into a deep curtsy. “Grazie, my lord.” She turned toward the door of the study and was stopped by Nick’s curiosity.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
Nick cast a fleeting look at his brother before continuing. “You will need to be introduced to London society.”
“I hardly think it necessary as I am only here for eight weeks,” Her emphasis on the last words was impossible to mistake.
“We shall discuss it when you are settled in.” Ralston ended the conversation and escorted her across the room, opening the door to the study and calling for the butler. “Jenkins, please escort Miss Juliana upstairs and have someone assist her maid in unpacking her things.” He turned back to Juliana. “You do have a maid, do you not?”
“Yes,” she said, amusement crossing her lips. “Must I remind you that it was the Romans who brought civilization to your country?”
Ralston’s eyebrows rose. “You plan to be a challenge, do you?”
Juliana smiled angelically. “I agreed to remain, my lord. Not to remain silent.”
He turned back to Jenkins. “She will be with us from now on.”
Juliana shook her head, meeting her brother’s eyes. “For two months.”
With a nod, he revised his statement. “She will be with us for now.”
The butler did not blink at the surprising announcement, instead offering a calm, “Very good, my lord,” and sending several footmen scurrying to remove Juliana’s trunks above stairs before leading the young woman away.
Satisfied that his bidding would be done, Ralston closed the door to the study and turned back to Nick, who was leaning against the sideboard, a lazy smile on his face.
“Well done, brother,” Nick said. “If only the ton knew that you have such an inflated sense of familial obligation…your reputation as a fallen angel would be shattered.”
“You would do well to stop talking.”
“Truly, it’s heartwarming. The Marquess of Ralston, in all his wickedness. Laid low by a child.”
Ralston turned away from his brother, stalking across the room to his desk. “Don’t you have a statue somewhere that must be cleaned? An elderly woman from Bath with a marble in desperate need of identification?”
Nick extended his legs and crossed one shining Hessian over the other, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “As a matter of fact, I do. However, she—along with my legions of fans—shall have to wait. I should much rather spend the afternoon with you.”
“Do not stay on my account.”
Nick became serious. “What happens in two months? When she still wants to leave and you cannot allow it?” When Ralston did not reply, Nick pressed on. “It has not been easy for her. Deserted by her mother at such a young age…then losing her father as well.”
“No different than our own circumstances.” Ralston feigned disinterest as he sorted through a pile of correspondence. “In fact, I would remind you that we lost our father along with our mother.”