Page 52 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“Ah.” Lupton’s smile faltered slightly. “A most talented writer, Your Grace. Her stories have been quite profitable for my humble establishment.”

“Her stories will no longer be published by your establishment or any other,” Leo stated flatly. “The Duchess of Blackmere does not require such income, nor would I permit my wife’s name to be associated with such material.”

Lupton’s eyes widened at the revelation. “The Duchess—? I had not heard… That is, congratulations are in order, Your Grace.”

“Save your felicitations,” Leo cut him off. “I am here to ensure you understand the situation clearly. Any manuscripts in your possession featuring characters that resemble me in any way are to be destroyed immediately. No further publications of such material will be tolerated.”

Lupton’s expression hardened. “With all due respect, Your Grace, those stories are my property. The contract Lady—pardon me, the Duchess—signed grants me publishing rights in perpetuity.”

“A contract obtained through coercion is hardly binding,” Leo replied, his voice dangerously soft. “Especially when the party in question was under financial duress deliberately exacerbated by yourself and Mr. Giles.”

The publisher’s face paled. “I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace.”

“Don’t you?” Leo leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on Lupton’s desk. “I find it curious that Giles suddenly collected on a decade-old debt precisely when the stories turned a profit. Almost as if someone had informed him of the Duchess’ literary success.”

Lupton swallowed visibly. “Business arrangements between gentlemen are private matters?—”

“You are no gentleman,” Leo interrupted coldly, echoing his earlier assessment of Giles. “And attempting to blackmail a vulnerable widow is no business arrangement.”

“I never blackmailed?—”

“Enough.” Leo’s voice cut through Lupton’s protest like a blade. “Here is what will happen. You will destroy all manuscripts featuring characters that resemble me. You will stop publishing any stories the Duchess submitted under duress. In return, I will refrain from making your predatory business practices known to certain members of the peerage who might take exception to your treatment of a woman now under my protection.”

Lupton’s face had gone from pale to ashen. “And if I refuse?”

Leo straightened, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate precision. “Then I will buy this entire establishment for the sole purpose of burning it to the ground and ensure that no reputable business in London will ever work with you again.” He smiled thinly. “I have the resources to do both, I assure you.”

The threat hung in the air between them, its weight almost palpable in the sudden silence of the office.

“I see,” Lupton said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Consider it done, Your Grace.”

“Excellent.” Leo moved toward the door, then paused. “One more thing, Mr. Lupton. The Duchess is a talented writer whosework deserves respect. Your exploitation of her circumstances reflects poorly on your judgment, both personal and professional. Remember that, should you ever consider crossing me again.”

Without waiting for a response, Leo departed, leaving Lupton pale and shaken behind his desk.

As his carriage returned him to Berkeley Square, Leo reflected on how quickly his priorities had shifted. Just days ago, his primary concern had been stopping the scandalous stories that threatened his reputation.

Now, his focus had turned to protecting the woman who wrote them.

“Her Grace is resting before dinner, Your Grace,” Henderson informed him as he handed over his hat and gloves. “The modiste’s visit was quite extensive.”

“I imagine so,” Leo replied, suppressing a smile at the thought of Marina overwhelmed by Madame Beaumont’s enthusiastic attention. “And was Her Grace satisfied with the arrangements?”

“I believe so, Your Grace, though she seemed somewhat taken aback by the scope of the commission.”

Leo nodded, unsurprised. Marina’s reluctance to accept what she perceived as charity had been evident from the beginning.

“She’ll adjust,” he said, more to himself than to Henderson. “Has there been any other word from Matthews?”

“No, Your Grace,” Henderson replied. “No further communications since the letter regarding Brussels.”

Leo frowned slightly. The lead had been promising—a landlady who had recognized William’s description and confirmed he had stayed at her establishment with a blonde woman. But by the time Matthews had arrived, they had already departed, leaving no forwarding address.

For the first time in years, Leo found himself less consumed by thoughts of his brother than by more immediate concerns—specifically, the woman currently resting upstairs, who would join him for dinner in a few hours.

“I’ll be in my study,” he informed Henderson. “Please notify me when the Duchess is ready to come down for dinner.”

As he settled into the familiar comfort of his study, Leo found himself wondering what Marina had made of her day.

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