Page 62 of Her Lion of a Duke
“Someone has to. If there is nobody else willing to do so, I will rise to the occasion. Well, I actually did. It is not something that I should do, now that I am a duchess. It would reflect poorly on the Pridefield name, and I would hate for that to happen.”
“As would I, which is exactly why I will not rest until I find Felix Gray.”
He felt her stiffen beside him.
“You mustn’t worry,” he soothed. “No trouble will come of it. I will simply find him and make sure he is silenced. I understand his interest—believe me, I do—and I would never threaten a man for making a living, but I will not have our family put in jeopardy.”
“I know,” she said softly. “Perhaps you might simply let it be? Nobody listens to rumors, and those who do are of no consequence to us. Is there truly any need for all of this?”
“There iseveryneed. I would have ignored it before and allowed him to say what he wished, but I now have someone to care for, and that changes everything. I will not have anyone say a word against you, Cecilia. I refuse to let it happen.”
He hoped that his words would soothe her, but they did not. At least not as much as he had hoped.
At breakfast, they discussed Clara, who had been keeping up with a string of suitors arriving at her door each day. Cecilia beamed with pride for her, and Leonard was pleased to see that she was settling well.
He had expected anger from his wife, but she had not shown him any. If anything, the only thing she had shown him was hesitation and unhappiness at the thought that obstacles might arise.
He would not allow that, though, and he hoped she knew that.
He would not allow anything to harm her, not after everything they had been through. He was only going through with the investigation for her sake, after all.
They all promenaded in a local park that afternoon, Brutus at Cecilia’s heels, and Leonard could not stop smiling at the sight.
In such a short span of time, Cecilia had made herself irreplaceable in his life, and he could not remember what his life was like without her. All he knew was that he no longer wanted to return to his life as a bachelor.
He quickly realized that he had been feeling that way for a long time.
CHAPTER 22
Cecilia had never been in a situation that made her as uncomfortable as she had been with Leonard at that moment.
She knew that she had done wrong and that she should have confessed right then and there that she was the guilty party, but she would have had little control over what followed, and she could not allow that. Not in her parents’ home.
It was the only secret she had kept from everyone: the double life she led as a brutally truthful man who said exactly what was on his mind. That was why she had found it so entertaining when members of the ton said that she did not keep her thoughts to herself. If only they knew what she thought of them.
The pamphlets had earned her a small fortune, too. She had kept the money in a hidden compartment in the floor of her room when she lived with her parents, and had brought it to London that year so they would not stumble upon it in her absence.It was hidden in a few of her hats, stashed away so that she wouldn't have to explain where it had come from.
She could not explain it, not to Leonard.
“Are you all right, dear?” her mother asked before dinner. “You look pale.”
“It is my complexion, Mother. I have always looked like this.”
“Yes, but you are gaunt. A mother always knows these things. What is troubling you?”
Cecilia could not answer truthfully, but she hated lying.“I suppose it is because this is the first time I have stayed in a home that is not my own since the wedding.”
“This is still your home. It will always be, and should you ever need time away, we will welcome you with open arms.”
“I know,” she replied with a dutiful smile. “All the same, I am anxious to return. I hope that nothing bad has happened in our absence.”
“If it were awful, you would have known about it by now. Believe me, you need not concern yourself with all of that. My, how you have changed. Not so long ago, you would not have cared.”
“That is what everyone misunderstands about me,” she protested. “It is not that I do not care. I care too much, if anything. I am always the first to consider possible problems and think of several ways to solve each one, but because I dare to open my mouth and say them, I am considered brash.”
“You may be brash, yes, but I know you. You are my daughter.”
“Do you know me?” Cecilia snapped, her blue eyes blazing. “Do you know me at all, Mother?”
