Page 15 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
“Not at all. The wedding negotiations broke down because the poor man couldn’t stand her. Not that she’s willing to accept it. I thought perhaps I’d be able to do everyone a favor by getting him out of that mess and finding Poppy a suitor at the same time. He’s a nice boy.”
“He did seem very winsome,” Julia admitted. “I think Poppy was quite taken with him. I hope all this didn’t scare him off.”
“On the contrary,” Lady Bendon smiled. “They’ve danced twice more since you left and seem to be getting on very well. MissBurbank is rather put out by it all.” Julia’s hopes soared. Perhaps if Poppy were serious about Lord Blackwell, she could get an offer before the week was out, and she wouldn’t have to agree to the Duke’s deal after all.
As if her thoughts had somehow summoned his name into existence, her aunt suddenly spoke. “I saw the Duke leaving the ballroom just after you did. You haven’t run into him, have you?”
Julia decided her aunt could be trusted. “We crossed paths briefly. Nothing untoward happened, and nobody saw us.”
“Alright. Good.” The older woman nodded. “What did he want?”
Julia shook her head. “I wish I knew.”
“Be careful with that one,” Lady Bendon warned sagely as she took Julia’s arm and began to walk back to the ballroom. “He’s certainly got a lot of admirable qualities, but something about him puts me on edge a little. I think there’s more to his nickname than just his looks.”
Julia nodded. “The Lion? Agreed.”
It was easy to see why the moniker stuck. It wasn't just the golden cast of his looks, but the deliberate, heavy stillness of his presence. Even during their conversation, he hadn't fidgeted or offered the usual anxious pleasantries of the ballroom; he had simply watched her with a keen, unblinking intensity that made her feel entirely cornered.
He moved with a quiet, dangerous confidence that suggested he was fully aware of his own power in this room, leaving Julia with the distinct impression that he was a man who didn't merely participate in society—he governed it.
Chapter Five
The next morning was a busy one. Leander was used to having guests, of course. Anthony and his young son Benjamin were at his estate more often than not, and he frequently had to entertain various peers as part of his duties - but never before had he held a party quite like this one.
The whole thing had actually been Anthony’s idea. On Leander’s thirtieth birthday, they’d celebrated by going to the club and having cigars, and Anthony had commented on how dull it was.
“Come on, Leander,” he’d said, gesturing around at the near-empty club. “Look at this. You’re thirty today! You could be hosting some grand event with all of Society begging to attend, and instead you’re stuck here with just me and these cigars.”
“I prefer it that way,” Leander had insisted. “It’s less complicated.”
“And much less fun. It’s such a waste, really. You’ve access to more money than half of England put together, and a guest list made up of the other half. Think of the parties you could throw!”
“I don’t need parties,” he’d laughed. “This is enough for me.”
“It shouldn’t be. You need to live a little,” Anthony had chided him. “Come on. Let me organize something for your birthday.”
“This is something. We’re out, aren’t we?”
“This doesnotcount. I mean something proper.”
“Fine. I’ll host one ball this Season, if it’ll stop your complaints. Just don’t announce that it’s for my birthday. I don’t want gifts,” Leander had replied jokingly, hoping that would be the end of it.
Naturally, with Anthony’s involvement, ‘one ball’ had turned into a week-long event involving games, events, and outings, with dances every evening and over a hundred guests staying at the estate. His best friend was a force of nature when it came to having fun, and although he’d resisted it at first, in the end, Leander found it was easier to just be swept up in the whirlwind and allow Anthony to do what he pleased.
So as a result, the Pridewell estate was full to bursting with people from all over London who had come to partake in the first big event of the Season. Leander knew most of them were curious about the rake Duke, who never cared about what Society rumored about him, and he preferred to keep it thatway, mostly dodging conversations and making excuses to be elsewhere all of yesterday evening. The only person’s company that he needed was Anthony’s.
He had been watching for the Norish girls specifically.
When the carriage incident had happened — that broken-down cab blocking the road, the elder Miss Norish squaring up to him on the cobblestones with more nerve than sense — something had clicked into place immediately. He had known their name was on the list, of course. He would spot that name a mile away. But seeing them there in person, practically destitute, their father's disgrace already splashed across the front page of theExpress— the shape of an opportunity had formed in his mind before she had even finished arguing with him.
Lord Norish had many crimes to answer for.
And his daughters, entirely without knowing it, had just handed Leander the means to collect.
He replayed his conversation with the elder, Miss Julia Norish. There was something different about her. Nobody ever spoke back to him the way she had, right there in the street in public. No woman had ever rejected him like that before, either. He wasn’t used to it, and even though his pride was hurt, it left him with an overwhelming need to win her over completely.
He found the line of thought both surprising and not at all unpleasant.
