Page 20 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
“My preferred dance partner was busy over here, hiding in the darkness entertaining another man,” he retorted, “so regrettably I was forced to accept a substitute.”
“You make it sound so sordid,” Miss Norish accused. “We were simply having a conversation. In full view of everyone in the room, I might add.”
“What might this conversation have been about?” Leander found himself asking, the words tumbling out before he could think about them.
“With all due respect, Your Grace, what Lord Stockhill and I spoke about doesn’t concern you, so I’d prefer to keep it private,” she said, then turned away again and resumed gazing out over the garden.
Leander was quiet for a moment.
It concerned him. That was the uncomfortable truth of it. Not because of Stockhill specifically, and not because of the arrangement he had proposed to her. It was because she had said it with such practiced ease, that particular tone of a woman accustomed to closing doors politely and waiting for people to accept it. As though privacy were the only thing she had left that was entirely her own, and she was going to defend it whether or not the situation warranted it.
He found he didn't want to be one of the people she closed doors against.
That was a new and not entirely welcome realization.
He stepped up beside her and said nothing, joining her in looking out over the garden. The air was cool and fresh after the stuffy heat of the ballroom, and the lanterns set along the flowerbeds threw warm, flickering light across the colors below — roses and lavender and something white he couldn't name, all of it vivid against the dark.
He let the silence sit for a moment. Then, without looking at her, he said, "You're right. It doesn't concern me."
She glanced at him. He could feel it.
"That's a surprisingly gracious concession," she said carefully.
"I'm capable of them occasionally." He kept his eyes on the garden. "I simply wanted to ensure Stockhill wasn't causing you any difficulty."
Another pause.
"He wasn't," she said. Then, after a beat that lasted just long enough to be honest — "He was asking about my dowry situation."
Leander said nothing. He didn't need to. The fact that she had told him after all, without being asked twice, settled somewhere in his chest with a quiet weight he chose not to examine too closely.
"I see," he said.
"I handled it."
"I know you did." He looked at her then, briefly, and directly. "You have a way of handling things."
She looked back at him with an expression he was beginning to recognize — the one where she was deciding whether to trust what he had just said. Whether it was kindness or strategy. Whether there was a difference with him.
He wasn't entirely sure there was any more.
“You want me to agree to this deal to court each other publicly. What happens when the plan works?” she asked. “We’ll have to find a way to break off the engagement. At least one of us will suffer a scandal for it.”
“Let it be me,” Leander suggested. “I have no interest in Society’s opinions. I’ll be the cruel, flighty lover that drops you without a thought.”
She smiled at him sadly. “They’ll say I should have expected it. That I overstepped, that it was ridiculous of me to ever believe I could land someone like you. Either way, even if you’re the one to end it, I come out of this looking foolish.”
“Is that what you really care about?” he countered. “Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as someone who particularly cares about what thetonthinks of her.”
“I don’t,” she answered, “but Poppy does. And whether I like it or not, my reputation affects my sister’s. I have to think about the best way to find her a good match, and every possible consequence that comes with it.”
Leander bowed his head. He didn’t really have a good reply to that. She was right. Based on the reputation she already had, thetonwould likely blame her for the fallout of their courtship, regardless of the facts.
“Why do you want to find my father?” she asked suddenly. “If I’m going to consider this, I need to know. Please.”
Something about her vulnerability, her openness in that moment, made him tell the truth.
“Your father took something important, and I mean to get it back…” Leander trailed off and swallowed. The memory was still too painful.
