Page 43 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

Aargh! He hurled a pillow across the room.

Thwarted lust, messing with his mind.

Again.

No. Desire wouldnotdisrupt his life again.

He bounded out of bed and poured the entire pitcher of cold water over his head. Once dressed, he rode down to the river to row for an hour, then broke his fast at his club, taking refuge in the company of other men.

Hadrian was at breakfast, in deep conversation with a colleague. They exchanged greetings: Hadrian was leaving London that day, he said, to “look into something” along the coast, and Leo felt a guilty relief, given Hadrian saw Juno like a sister.

But all in all, it was a most satisfactory program, he decided, as he began his walk home. With enough cold water, vigorous exercise, and robust conversation, the vexing matter of Juno Bell would soon be exorcised from his mind and his courtship could begin.

His contentment did not last long, however, for as he strolled through St. James, someone called, “Your Grace! If you please!” and then trotting by his side was Thomas Macey, the numbskull whose greatest—and only—contribution to the world was that game aimed at making Leo lose his temper.

“Are you heading home, sir?” Macey asked boldly. “Might I walk with you?”

“Been thinking up new ways to irritate me, have you, Macey?” Leo said. “Let’s hope you’ve something more diverting than your stupid game of duke-baiting.”

“Please accept my apologies for that—that horrendous impertinence.” Macey was walking sideways, hands clasped in apparent repentance.

“And what about the impertinence of ruining my pleasant walk?” Leo said.

“I mean no impertinence, Your Grace. I wish only to beg your help. You are the only one who knows of my—” He lowered his voice. “My difficult situation.”

Well. That was one way for a gentleman to refer to his secret wife.

“My father is returning to England.” Macey swiped at the sweat beading on his upper lip. “My grandfather, Lord Renshaw, he is… He sometimes becomes confused and his memory is not what it was.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“My father has been recalled from Constantinople to take over my grandfather’s duties as earl and he—” He gulped audibly. “Do you know my father?”

“By reputation. As I recall, his favorite pastime was finding new reasons to have poor people hanged or flogged.”

Macey nodded so vigorously his hat tumbled off and he had to chase it several steps down the street.

“I worry what he will say. Will do. To her.” He spun the hat over in his hands with dizzying speed. “He’ll ruin her. Please, Dammerton, what shall I do? You’re a duke. My grandmother says you wish to wed my sister, which means you’ll be my brother by marriage. Perhaps you could…”

“Could what?”

“Protect us somehow? My wife and me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. You’re aduke,” he repeated in a wail.

Leo stopped and spun his walking stick in his hand. Macey’s mouth quivered, as he continued to punish his undeserving hat.

“You’re twenty-one, are you not, Macey?”

“Just, sir.”

“Then you are no longer a boy. As adults, we can do as we please, but we must face the consequences of doing as we please. When our mistakes result in a mess, we clean up that mess. If you are old enough to marry against your father’s wishes, then you are old enough to stand up to your father.”

“Yes, but—”

“Good day, Mr. Macey.”

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