Page 36 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
That was true, as far as it went.
But it didn't go far enough, and he was too honest with himself, in private at least, to pretend otherwise.
The honest answer was harder to look at directly.
He had watched her stand in that room and lay out her terms with the careful precision of a woman who had learned that no one else was going to protect her interests, so she had better do it herself. He had watched her account for her sister before herself, account for her reputation before her comfort, account for the exit before she had even fully entered. She had built the terms of their arrangement the way someone builds a wall — not to keep people out, necessarily, but because walls were the only architecture she had ever been taught.
And something about that had moved through him in a way he hadn't expected and couldn't entirely name.
He knew what it was to carry responsibility that should have been someone else's. He knew what it was to be fifteen years old and understand, in the space of a single afternoon, that the person who was supposed to be standing between you and the world was gone, and that the world was not going to pause and wait for you to be ready. He had rebuilt himself around that knowledge — the control, the strategy, the careful management of every room he entered — and he had told himself for fifteen years that it had made him stronger.
Looking at Miss Julia Norish last night, he had thought, for the first time, that perhaps it had also made him lonelier than he had noticed.
He empathized with her situation more than he cared to admit, even to himself.
But he didn't think that was the reason he had pulled her close.
He thought the reason was simpler and considerably more inconvenient than empathy. He thought the reason was that she had looked up at him in that moment with those steady brown eyes, and he had wanted, with a clarity that had no business existing at this stage of a transaction, to be someone she could actually rely on entirely.
Not because of the arrangement.
Not because of Lord Norish.
Just because she looked like a person who had been let down by everyone who should have known better, and he found, against all reasonable intention, that he did not want to be added to that list.
He set down his pen and shuffled a few documents.
This was going to be considerably more complicated than he had planned.
He’d spent much of the night and early parts of the morning trying to figure that out.
“Good morning, sunshine,” said Anthony’s cheery voice as his friend strode into the room unannounced. “You look awful.”
“I feel awful,” Leander replied. “Don’t you even bother to knock?”
“In this house? Never.” His friend pulled open the curtains, letting more light into the office. Leander groaned and shielded his eyes. He was still extremely tired and not yet ready to fully accept that daytime had arrived. “What are you doing in here all alone? Everyone’s about to finish up at breakfast. You’ll miss the last of the bacon.”
“I have some work to catch up on,” Leander replied. “I’ll have Mrs. Gwen bring me up whatever’s left and come to join the guests later.”
“Suit yourself.” Anthony shrugged. “Benjamin and I are going to play outside today. The weather’s absolutely glorious. You wouldn’t even think we were in England lately with the run of sunshine we’ve had.”
“Perhaps I’ll come out once I’ve finished,” the Duke said, looking mournfully down at the endless papers in front of him. “This, regrettably, can’t wait any longer.”
“Did you hear that the Burbanks departed this morning?” Anthony asked. “Something about a commotion between the ladies last night. I’m not up to date on it all, but it sounds like there’s some bad blood there.”
“Oh, they’ve left? That’s a relief,” Leander said lightly. He wasn’t about to tell Anthony that he’d had the Burbanks removed from the party first thing this morning. It wasn’t that he was keeping it a secret; he just didn’t fully understand his actions himself and definitely wouldn’t be able to explain them if questioned. He simply hadn’t felt comfortable having them in the same house as Miss Norish for a moment longer, knowing they had been so unforgivably cruel to her, no matter what she said about it.
A knock at the door interrupted them. Leander looked pointedly at Anthony, who tilted his head. “Not fair, I practically live here. This person probably doesn’t, so of course they knock.”
Leander rolled his eyes. “Come in.”
A smartly dressed man with a bowler hat entered the room. He wore high-heeled shoes that accentuated his height, and hisimpressive whiskers were touched with gray. It was his solicitor, Mr. Cuthbert. “Your Grace. Lord Thynne. Good morning to you both.”
“Good day, Mr. Cuthbert. My apologies, I may have forgotten - did we have an appointment this morning?”
“No,” he replied, “however, I was in the neighborhood on other business and came across some information that I thought you would want to see immediately.” He stepped over to the desk and pulled the daily broadsheet from his jacket. Smoothing it out, he pointed out an article about some shady gambling that had apparently been taking place at a den near Leicester Square. “I was investigating the goings-on here on behalf of a client; some money moved into the wrong circles; he’s trying to recover it. Not important. However, while I was there, I heard mention of Lord Norish.”
“Norish?” asked Leander sharply, scanning the article, his bleariness forgotten in the face of such important news. “Is he somehow involved with these men?”
