Page 16 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
“Morning, sleepyhead,” came his friend’s voice from the door. “Scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon again? You know there’s a whole buffet downstairs, right?”
Leander shrugged. “I like Mrs. Gwen’s eggs on toast. What can I say?”
“If you were any more a creature of habit, you’d be a monk,” Anthony declared, sitting down across from him and sipping a cup of tea. “Sorry, that joke sounded a lot funnier in my head. You know most of your guests have been up for hours already, right?”
“They’re more your guests than mine, if we’re being honest about it,” Leander reminded him. “Why don’t you entertain them?”
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Want to talk about it?” Anthony inquired.
Leander grinned. “The opposite, actually. I’ve finally got a lead.”
“A lead on what?”
“Lord Norish.”
“Don’t tell me that’s why you invited those girls.” Anthony rolled his eyes. “I thought you were just being kind. Was it all part of some scheme?”
“A happy accident, actually. Lady Bendon sent a letter saying that she would be arriving with her nieces, the Norish ladies, who were on the list anyway. As it turns out, Norish has left his daughters in quite a mess, so with a little luck, I might be able to use that to flush him out of hiding,” the Duke explained.
“Why do you care so much?” Anthony queried, his piercing blue eyes searching Leander. “I’ve never known you to care about anything in your life except for your friends and family, and Norish is neither.”
“He took something important,” Leander said.
Anthony’s eyes stayed on him, patient and unhurried in the way of a man who had known him long enough not to be deflected easily. Leander looked away.
The truth would have taken thirty seconds to say it — to tell Anthony exactly what Norish had taken, exactly how far back it went, exactly what it had cost him. Anthony, of all people, would understand. His friend would probably have been furious on his behalf, which was precisely the problem. Because fury led to questions, and questions led to details, and details led to the part of the story that Leander had never told anyone. The part that reflected poorly not only on Norish alone but on himself. On a decision he had made when he was young enough to be foolish and old enough to know better.
He had carried it this long. He could carry it a little further.
"It doesn't matter now," he said, and reached for his glass. "What matters is that I intend to get it back."
Anthony looked at him for a moment longer than was comfortable. Then, he sighed. “This is about that watch, isn’t it?”
Leander refused to answer, focusing instead on his plate. Anthony ran a hand over his face. His previously bright expression was gone. He looked tired, like he’d suddenly aged ten years. “Leander. What happened to Henry was- I mean, I was there too. Nobody should have to die so young. But he was never a healthy man, and he knew that since he was a child. You have to stop looking for someone to blame and move on with your life. You know that’s what Henry would tell you to do.”
“It’s not about blame,” the Duke argued, his hand curling into a fist. “That spineless, grubby leech has the only thing in the world that Henry cared about, and for his sake, I need to get it back.”
“Henry cared about more than just that heirloom,” Anthony said softly, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He cared about us, too.”
“So what kind of person does that make me, if I fail him now that he’s gone?” Leander met Anthony’s sad gaze. “I owe him this, Anthony. After everything Henry did for me, I can’t let him down.”
Anthony nodded. “Just don’t forget to be happy in the meantime, will you? Henry didn’t raise, stand by your side, so you could live your life in the past.”
He clapped Leander on the shoulder and stood. “Anyway, I’m going downstairs. Don’t tarry up here too long. We’ve got a group of gentlemen headed out to the shooting grounds soon and another contingent of guests who returned from Calais yesterday that should be arriving before the ball tonight.”
“There’s more?”
“When it comes to young ladies in pretty dresses, more is never enough, old friend.”
“I thought you’d given up being a rake since Benjamin arrived.”
Anthony shrugged and winked. “There’s no harm in just admiring.”
Leander looked down at his breakfast and sighed. This was going to be an exceedingly long week.
Meanwhile, downstairs with the rest of the guests, Julia and Poppy were taking their breakfast as well. Poppy had not stopped talking about Lord Blackwell since they had parted ways last night; how sweet he was, how kind, how she’d found his small missteps and stricken apologies during the dances utterly endearing. They were a good match, really, Julia surmised. Although Lord Blackwell wasn’t the most handsome man in the room, or the best dressed, or the richest, he was clearly extremely well-mannered and gentle, and he had taken a realshine to her sister. She hoped that whatever nastiness might result from Miss Burbank could be cleared up soon, so that Blackwell might make Poppy an offer.
If he did, she wouldn’t have to speak to the Duke of Pridewell ever again. She wondered why that thought brought her a wave of relief followed by a twinge of disappointment.
