Page 75 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

“You enjoy it too much for English tastes.”

He had explained what would happen next: Leo would sue Erika’s current lover for criminal conversation, which was the law’s way of saying “sleeping with another man’s wife.” Given the substantial eyewitness testimony, the jury would most likely pronounce her lover “guilty” and order him to pay damages.

Erika listened, curious, unconcerned. “He won’t be able to pay.”

“I won’t expect him to pay. But the guilty verdict is a necessary step to secure an Act of Parliament permitting a divorce.”

“And then you’ll send me away.”

“You won’t be welcome in English society once divorced.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been welcome here, but they find reasons not to shun me, because I am never dull. In the story of our marriage, I am the villain, the wicked adulteress.” She laughed freely. “Of course, Iama wicked adulteress, but at least I am honest. You misled me about the sort of man you are. You led me to think we are the same, but where I am wild and wicked, you were merely heartbroken and drunk. I cannot even blame you for being terrible, which makes you the worst sort of villain of all.”

He brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I have done badly by you. Believe me, I have regret and guilt too.”

“I do hope you feel guilty enough to give me a nice house. Maybe in Paris—they willadoreme.”

How she baffled him, viewing her own ruination as nothing more than another adventure. Nevertheless, he had tried to warn her about the scandal.

“We will be the talk of England,” he said. “Every detail of our lives will be made public. It will be very unpleasant.”

She poked him in the ribs. “For you, maybe. I shall revel in every moment.”

Indeed. She even stirred up more excitement by releasing a set of her own carefully edited letters and commissioning a series of cartoons about herself. Now she made a comfortable home in Paris, with a wide circle of similarly disgraced friends.

And here he was, the past firmly behind him, ready to start again.

“That one,” he said to his valet, pointing to a waistcoat that was striped blue and gray. It was a little dull for his taste, but the stripes struck him as orderly, and Susannah Macey liked order. It would make as good an outfit as any in which to start his new life.

* * *

Miss Macey blewinto the drawing room at Lord Renshaw’s house like a hat on a gust of wind, with only Lady Renshaw’s hand on her elbow stopping her from flying away. Her complexion was like chalk, and her jaw was set, and she eyed Leo with a mix of trepidation and hope.

“I would like to request a private conversation with your granddaughter,” Leo said to the countess.

Lady Renshaw lifted her chin mutinously. “Your Grace. All of London is speculating about what you might have done to her.”

“Others’ speculations are of no interest to me,” he said shortly. “I have come to ask Miss Macey for her hand in marriage, which will repair any damage to her reputation, and I should like to do so in private.”

Susannah tugged her arm from Lady Renshaw’s grip. “It is all right. Please, Grandmother.”

The countess darted sharp looks from one to the other. “Five minutes, mind. I’m sure that will be ample, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Leo said, and politely maneuvered her to the other side of a firmly closed door.

Miss Macey had regained her poise, hands clasped at the waist of her neat russet dress. Despite her composure, her thumbs were worrying each other. He would come to know those hands well, over the years. He would learn her mannerisms, her turns of phrase, her moods.

All was as it ought to be: a formal and slightly awkward marriage proposal in a drawing room, while relatives guarded the door. Their start was not ideal, but otherwise, this was the correct order of things. Leopold Halton and Susannah Macey: not a match written in the stars, but in accord with what was written inDebrett’s.

I can love you without wanting to marry you.

I do not aspire to be a duchess.

When he spoke, the words came smoothly, without hesitation, as if recited from his memory like a nursery rhyme. “I assure you, Miss Macey, Susannah. This situation has not forced my call on you today, but only hastened it. I would be honored if you would agree to become my wife.”

She moved her head, three small nods in one. “I do agree. Thank you. Yes.”

They were engaged.

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