Page 28 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

“And you’re not still pining after Erika?”

“Never did.”

Leo returned to the lists of numbers, to his plans for the Dammerton Foundation.

It was that ring box that had sparked his passion for decorative arts.

In the little workshop, in an alley deep in Vienna, Leo had found himself moved by the delicate hand-painted scenes, charmed by the notion that one person could create an object that would become woven into the fabric of another person’s life. Best of all, whole minutes passed when he forgot his heartache over Juno. He went back to buy a snuffbox, and then a music box; each item soothed him for a few days. But it was never enough; he kept seeking more. Then, back in London, he helped a talented seamstress set up an embroidery workshop, and he hunted treasures across the country, and he established his Foundation, and he hired staff, and yet—

Yet somehow, it still wasn’t quite enough.

I shall winkle your secret out of you,Juno had said.

His secret was not an exciting one. No murder or treason, no blackmail or secret heirs. It was simply that he had loved a woman who had stopped loving him, then married another woman whom he would never love.

Our secrets reveal what we value, she had said.And what we fear.

What he valued was his sanity. His pride. What he valued was his Foundation and his family, both the family he already had and one he would make with his next wife.

What he feared was feeling as wretched and wrecked as he had in those weeks in Vienna after Juno broke his heart.

He glanced up just as his half-brother slipped a silver cigar case into a pocket.

“Sainted stitches. If you’re that desperate, get some money from my secretary,” Leo said.

“I don’t want your charity.” St. Blaise picked up a jeweled music box, with a mechanical bird perched on top. He found the key to wind it up. “Besides, I like finding diverting ways to make a living. Finding a woman to keep me, stealing from you.”

“You’d rather be a whore or thief than a beggar?”

“Why not? I became a murderer for money. Why not a whore and thief too?”

He released the key and the little bird began to turn on its perch. Tinny music jangled through the room.

“Tristan,” Leo said softly. “You were a soldier, a cavalry officer. It isn’t murder if you’re a soldier.”

“If you say so.” The jaunty tune wound down. The bird bobbed one last bow. “Can I have this?”

“No.”

“Fine.” St. Blaise tossed the music box back on the shelf. “Just do me a kindness and get engaged to Susannah Macey.”

Suddenly, Leo was grateful to St. Blaise for digging up that silly little ring. That ring box was a timely reminder of what mattered.

This went beyond Lady Renshaw’s condition to reduce gossip before courting Miss Macey. This was about leaving the past behind and embracing his future with his whole heart.

This was about cleaning up his youthful mess.

And Juno Bell—sensuous, vibrant, warm, welcoming, passionate, fickle Juno—was at the heart of that mess.

Whatever it takes,he thought. This time, his marriage would succeed.

He must sever his connection with Juno entirely. No more calls. No more gifts.

A pang stabbed him like a dagger. He did not want to end their friendship, but neither could he bear to continue in this limbo.

But simply ceasing to see her did not sit right with him. He would see her one more time, he decided, just to say goodbye.

And this time, he would not hesitate to speak.

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