Page 25 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

No matter: This feeling would pass once he married. Courting Susannah Macey was the most sensible course of action. Leo liked taking action and he was, in the end, a sensible man.

The leaning towers of china eyed him skeptically.

“Oh, sod off. Nobody asked you,” he said to them, and pivoted to continue his perambulations elsewhere, away from judgmental porcelain.

And almost collided with St. Blaise in the doorway.

“Twice in one day,” Leo sighed. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“I need somewhere to stay.”

“I thought some woman gave you a bed.”

“She has since kicked me out of said bed. Lucky for me, my little brother is a duke and has more rooms than he knows what to do with.” St. Blaise peered past him. “Egad. I see what you mean about the china. How much could I get for all of this?”

“Nothing. Because you’re not selling it.”

Leo brushed past him and wandered on.

“This space is wasted on you,” St. Blaise said, trailing after him. “Do you know what this house needs?”

“You gone from it?”

“About a dozen courtesans. You are terrible at being a duke,” he added. “Your life could be one endless, divine debauchery, drinking all day and bedding a different woman every night.”

“I’ve never seen the appeal of sleeping with strangers.”

“The fact they’re strangersisthe appeal.”

Leo glanced over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep with a woman who knows you well?”

“Any woman who knows me well wouldn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Fair point.”

Three steps later, St. Blaise gripped his shoulder. “Polly, wait. What? Do you mean to say… Your wife… You’ve lain with only one woman? No! Can it be?”

Leo didn’t bother answering. St. Blaise was rendered momentarily speechless.

Only momentarily, alas.

“But don’t you want more experience? Didn’t you get bored in bed, doing the same thing over and over?”

“Who says we did the same thing over and over?” Leo tugged himself free. “Sounds like you need more experience, if you know only one thing to do with a lover. One can achieve more variety with a single partner and a bit of imagination.”

In the study, Leo set about lighting candles and briefly indulged in a fantasy of turning his half-brother out onto the streets. But among their father’s last words to Leo was a plea to “Look after Tristan for me. He’s a good boy, really.”

It was not Tristan’s fault he had been their father’s favorite. Nor was it Tristan’s fault their father had chosen to live as he had: in a cozy cottage with his mistress and their children, and paying quarterly visits to his duchess and their children.

ItwasTristan’s fault that he was so bloody annoying.

The “good boy” was now prowling around the study, opening cabinet doors and poking in drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Leo asked.

“Anything I can steal and pawn. Don’t sack the servants if the silver spoons go missing. It will likely just be me.”

“I hear your gambling debts have become bad.”

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