Page 15 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

Since his birth, his life had been unfailingly orderly—until those heart-stopping minutes in a meadow a decade earlier, when Juno Bell’s kiss sent him into a downward spiral of chaos: his fights with his parents, his behavior in Vienna, his mess of a marriage, the greater mess of the divorce.

But now he was tidying up the last of his mess and restoring order in his life, thanks to Susannah Macey.

She adored lists. He abhorred them. She loved to impose order. He tended to make a mess. They complemented each other. She was precisely what he needed.

Unfortunately, he rarely managed to speak to her for more than five minutes before someone in her family whisked her away.

And right on cue, here came Lady Renshaw now, bursting out of the throng, wearing a yellow turban that did no favors to her gray hair or anxious expression. The countess gripped her granddaughter’s elbow like it was the last bolt of silk on sale.

“Susannah, dear, there you are,” Lady Renshaw said. “Do come show your new fan to the other ladies. If His Grace would be so kind as to release you.” She offered Leo a tight smile. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Lady Renshaw.”

Miss Macey did not move. “Grandmother, we were discussing the duke’s Foundation and the grants he provides to craftsmen.”

“How very interesting.” Lady Renshaw’s brow darkened. “Tell me, Your Grace, do you also provide grants to artists? I understand you enjoy passing time in artists’ studios.”

Her tone was mild, but her look was as sharp as a grumpy tailor’s needle. As the English made a sport of not saying what they meant, Leo had to guess her meaning; he guessed they were discussing his visits to the studio of one particular artist, namely, of course, Juno Bell.

Ah, bless the gossips. They were as hardworking as smugglers, tirelessly moving their goods around in the dark.

“I enjoy many things,” Leo said. “Yet when gossip favors excitement over truth, it reports things that do not exist.”

Lady Renshaw offered another insincere smile. “Attention is unavoidable for people in our position, yet we do try to avoid it where possible, especially the sort of gossip that is likely to cause my granddaughter embarrassment. I’m sure you understand, Your Grace.”

Miss Macey was passing this conversation in close examination of her fan. The fan’s construction must be fascinating, the way she studied it so intently.

“Indeed, my lady, I understand you perfectly.”

Nevertheless, Lady Renshaw added, “We leave in a fortnight for Lord Normanby’s estate, and we must speak to his mother, who is so very fond of Susannah.” She nudged her granddaughter’s shoulder. “Do go ahead, dear. I should like a word with His Grace.”

Miss Macey opened her mouth as if to protest, but closed it again, for well-behaved young ladies did not quarrel. Instead, she obeyed with an apologetic smile and small curtsy, leaving Leo alone with one very disgruntled countess and feeling rather disgruntled himself.

“I was about to ask your granddaughter to dance,” he said impatiently. “And invite her on a drive in the park, and then perhaps to share my box at the theater. Need I make my intentions more clear?”

Lady Renshaw maneuvered him into a triangle of privacy with a potted palm and fixed him with a sharp glare.

“The attentions of a duke are very flattering for a young lady, but when those attentions are accompanied by ceaseless gossip and potential humiliation, they lose their shine. Your visits tothat artist—”

“Completely innocent,” he said. “That is the truth.”

She shook her head. “We both know the truth matters little if there is delectable gossip to be had. Your calls onthat artistmay pass with little notice now, but they are sure to excite great interest once you become engaged. Everyone remembers how your father chose to live with his French mistress, thus leaving your poor mother abandoned and alone.”

Leo nodded solemnly, trying not to smile at the image of his robust mother as poor, abandoned, or alone, given the way she filled her house in Lincolnshire with European musicians and was right now having a wonderful time in Berlin.

“Should you keep seeingthat artist, the world will wonder if you mean to emulate your father by favoring a long-term mistress over your wife, and I’ll not have Susannah mocked as your mother was.” She sniffed. “Susannah’s other prospects may appear less grand than a duke, but will lead to a more contented future. The Earl of Normanby, for example, is very satisfactory. If you wish to court my granddaughter, you must reform your behavior first.”

Leo raised a very ducal eyebrow, which served to chasten her a little.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, I mean no insult. But your connection withthat artistdoes give one pause, and makes one wonder, well, what else might he do? Good evening, Your Grace.”

And with that, she hurried off to take Miss Macey by the elbow and lead her safely away.

Leo scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly weary of this ball and its cloying air. Susannah Macey was his nearly-ideal bride. If she chose someone else, he would have to start all over again.

He did not have the energy to start all over again.

It was downright absurd that he, a duke, was being forced to choose between his friendship with Juno and his marriage to Miss Macey. All for the sake of some narrow-minded nonsense.

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