Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“ B ut you cannot marry a man you barely know!” Lady Vivian Bellmond gasped, as she danced next to Leah later that evening in the quadrille. It was the perfect dance for conversations such as these: lively enough that most people weren’t listening to them, but also interactive enough that several people could continue on a conversation between all the moves. Leah had just informed her best friend about her plan, and of course, she was unsurprised by Vivian’s reaction.
“It’s either marry a man she hardly knows or marry a man she knows is terrible,” Nathan Bellmond— the Viscount of Keatings, and Vivian’s husband— said. He, of course, was in on this conversation. He and Vivian shared everything, and Leah needed their advice before carrying out her plan.
The Viscount and Viscountess were her two closest friends in the ton— in fact, they were her only friends. She’d sought them out the moment they’d arrived at the ball and now she listened as they debated her plan.
“But the new man could turn out to be even worse,” Vivian said reasonably. “And it is just not done! For one thing, you would have to propose to him. And what kind of gentleman would be able to countenance a young lady proposing marriage and not the other way around?”
“Not everyone is as much a stickler for propriety as you are, my dear,” Nathan said, grinning at his wife. She shook her head in exasperation.
“Come now, Nathan, you would not have liked it if I had proposed marriage to you.”
“No, but I would have jumped at the opportunity to rescue a beautiful young lady in desperate need of a knight in shining armor.”
“That is what I am in need of,” Leah agreed. “Someone kind, who will be happy to marry quickly. At least I bring a large dowry with me and connection to the Duke of Dredford. There must be many men who would gladly marry me, considering those qualities.”
“Of course there are,” Vivian said at once. “And while I don’t necessarily approve of your methods, I of course want to help you escape marriage to that dreadful Dubois.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t wait to see if the document is authentic?” Nathan asked, but Leah shook her head.
“I cannot wait for that. What if it is? Then I would be completely out of time. No, I must start now. Preferably I will find someone to agree to marry me tonight. The sooner the better. I don’t know how long Lucien can stall Dubois.”
“Alright,” Vivian said, and although she heard the reluctance in her friend’s voice, she appreciated that Vivian immediately frowned in concentration, her eyes flickering from one eligible bachelor in their vicinity to the next.
“What about Lord Branson?” she suggested after a minute. “He is very handsome and very wealthy.”
“Which is exactly why he is not desperate enough to agree to this plan,” Leah said. “We need someone who is not so handsome or wealthy, someone who will be glad to be given the opportunity to wed me.”
Even though she knew it was her only choice, Leah’s heart hurt as she said the words. Never had she thought that this was the kind of match she would see out for herself. But she needed to kill all the emotion inside of herself and become cold and calculating if she wanted to escape marriage to Lord Dubois. All sentiment had to be replaced with a practicality that bordered on mercenary.
“Hmm, how about Mr. John Harding?” Vivian asked after another moment.
“He is very popular with the ladies,” her husband pointed out. “Not exactly a desperate bachelor in need of a quick wife.”
“I’m sorry I want the best for my friend!” Vivian snapped. “I don’t think she should end up with someone who is only marrying her because he’s desperate.”
“I know, darling, I know,” he said, squeezing his wife’s hand as the music mounted and took them to new positions. “But we need to think of someone practical. Someone like… Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“Mr. Fitzwilliam…” Leah repeated. “He might just be perfect!”
“But he is so strange!” Vivian protested. “He can hardly string a sentence together without stuttering!”
“All the better,” Leah said. “He is supposed to be kind and fair, and he has a small estate in Wales, does he not? He would probably be very happy to have a large influx of cash from my dowry.”
“He would indeed,” Nathan said. “Although he is not a greedy man. But he has several sisters, so I do think he worries about money.”
“Perfect,” Leah said.
Mr. Harris Fitzwilliam. She didn’t know him well. As Vivian said, he was difficult to talk to. Nor was he particularly handsome to look at. But that didn’t matter compared to how he treated her. And she had never heard a bad thing about Mr. Fitzwilliam, only that he was gentle and very shy.
Before any of them could say another word, however, there was a collective intake of breath near them, and people began turning in the direction of the doors. Leah, Vivian, and Nathan also strained their necks to see what the commotion was.
Someone seemed to have arrived at the ball, and whoever it was, they were causing quite the stir.
“It’s the Duke of Nottington!” Someone near them gasped.
“He has returned to England?”
And then suddenly the room all around them was full of whispers as everyone began to gossip. Leah heard the name again and again, as if it were floating through the air toward her: The Duke of Nottington.
She knew the Duke, of course. He was good friends with Lucien, although he was the opposite of her brother in every way. Where Lucien had always been a strict rule-follower who barely spoke to anyone, Nottington was the most sociable and outgoing man of her acquaintance. Nor had he ever met a rule he didn’t want to break. It was a surprise, really, that Lucien was friends with him, but they got on famously.
Leah turned back to the dance. The news of Nottington’s return didn’t interest her much. It didn’t affect the situation with Dubois at all. However, when she looked at Vivian, she saw her friends watching her with a mischievous smile.
“What?” she asked, frowning.
“That is who you should marry,” Vivian said. “The Duke of Nottington.”
“You can’t be serious,” Leah said, snorting. “He is wealthy! And the most handsome man in England! The last thing he would want is a quick marriage to me.”
Vivian shrugged. “But he is worthy of you.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Nathan said, frowning. “His reputation is not particularly flattering. The man is charming, yes, but too charming.”
“What do you mean?” Leah asked, frowning. How could someone be too charming?
Nathan hesitated. Then he said, flushing slightly, “Nottington is a man who makes friends easily… lady friends. If you know what I mean?”
“Oh.” Leah looked away, her cheeks heating. So Nottington was a rake. She hadn’t known that. W hy would she?
The music ended and the dance was over. They all bowed to one another, then Vivian took Nathan’s arm, who extended his free one to Leah. But Leah shook her head. She needed to be alone for a moment and focus on her mission.
“I’m going to go find Mr. Fitzwilliam,” she said. “Wish me luck.”
“You’re going to propose now?” Vivian asked, her jaw dropping.
“I don’t see why I should delay.” And she disappeared into the crowd, leaving her friends behind before Vivian’s disapproval caused her to question herself even more.
This is the only way. This is what you have to do to save yourself. And she kept repeating this to herself as she searched the room for Mr. Fitzwilliam.
To her surprise— and displeasure— it didn’t take her long to find him. She had barely talked herself into the idea of it all when she spotted him alone by the refreshments table, sipping on a glass of lemonade .
Steeling herself, Leah took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to do this.
Leah took a step forward. Then another. She was close to Mr. Fitzwilliam now. His shoulders tightened as he sensed her presence, and then he was turning toward her. Their eyes locked. He looked surprised to see her, but after several awkward seconds, he smiled. This was her invitation. She only had to take another step forward, begin talking, explain the situation, and then…
And then she might have a husband.
She would be saved from Lord Dubois.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
And suddenly she knew she couldn’t do it. It was all too sudden. She didn’t know what to say. How could she, when she didn’t even know what she felt? .
Instead of stopping by the refreshments table she continued along, passing him. She knew she’d been abominably rude to him just now— she had accidentally given him the cut direct!— but she was too scared and confused to care.
She needed to get out of here. Somewhere safe and quiet, where she could breathe .
When she reached the edge of the crowd, she broke into a run, fleeing out of the ballroom and out the French doors to the gardens, where she could be alone to contemplate the bleak future that awaited her.
CHAPTER THREE
“My God, Dorian, you look well!” Lucien exclaimed, clapping his friend on the back as he led him out of the ballroom doors and into the hallway. “Traveling has done wonders for you.”
“And marriage has done wonders for you,” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow at his old friend. “I don’t remember you being this exuberant before you married the Duchess.”
Lucien grinned at him— also a rare sight on the Duke of Dredford. “I’ll admit it: marrying my wife was the best decision I have ever made. She has completely transformed me and my household. It turns out my parents were right: love is truly the most powerful emotion on earth.”
Dorian laughed and shook his head. “You sound like a damned poet! Don’t tell me you’ve been reading Byron, or any other of that nonsense.”
“You don’t need poetry when you’re in love,” Lucien said. “Every day is poetry.” And he smiled in such a secret, knowing way that made Dorian pause and peer more closely at him. He’d mostly been teasing his friend, but now he could see that he was sincere in the way he spoke about his wife.
How very curious.
“Are you disappointed?” Lucien asked, guiding Dorian down the hall toward the library, where he’d promised there would be brandy.
“Perhaps a little,” Dorian admitted, smiling wickedly. “You were always my stalwart ally in believing that love is , at best, a myth, and, at worst, a vampiric and destructive emotion.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Lucien said, inclining his head, “but unfortunately I have struck the colors and am now a firm believer in love.”
“As long as you have not become a social butterfly. There must be one way in which you have stayed the same.”
“I assure you, I still do not overly enjoy Society. That will remain your purview.” Lucien smiled kindly at him. “But what of you? What of your travels? How was the continent?”
Dorian wondered just how much he could demur. His travels had been… not what he was expecting. He’d gone away hoping to clear his mind and find adventure—and solace. B ut all he’d found on the road were crumbling European cities, fading art, and buildings whose majesty was long-gone.
All he’d found was death and decay. But of course, no one wanted to hear that about the Grand Tour: they wanted to hear how exciting, inspirational, and exotic it all was.
So, he smiled and forced himself to adopt the enthusiastic, knowledgeable, and confident tone for which he was known: “It was marvelous, old boy. Just marvelous. Europe is where it’s at these days. I wish I could move away from dreary old England and spend my days on the cobbled streets of Madrid or Lisbon, perusing art in the hallowed halls of Milan and Rome. Or of course, meeting beautiful women in Paris.”
“So there were women?” Lucien said, raising an eyebrow disapprovingly. This was not a subject that the two friends had ever agreed upon.
“Of course there were women,” Dorian said, even as he felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach. He didn’t like to lie to his friend, but of course, he had a reputation to maintain--especially if he didn’t want to be besieged by the marriage-minded mamas of the ton.
“Well, let us move past those details and return to the art, shall we?” They had reached the end of the hallway, and Lucien pushed open the door to the library and stepped inside. The candles hadn’t been lit, and it took them several moments to adjust to the darkness.
“Blast, Henry said the candles would be lit,” Lucien said. “Wait here— I will go find a servant to light them.”
Lucien disappeared back out the door to the hallway, and Dorian heard his footsteps melt away into the distance. In the sudden stillness of the room, he found himself drawn to the French windows on the far end of the library, and pushed back the curtains to look outside.
The moon was almost full, and it cast an ethereal, silvery glow over the gardens below him. Unlocking the latch on the doors, he stepped outside and breathed in deeply of the warm, sultry night air.
The Season was almost over, and soon the ton would be heading to the country to escape the summer heat, but Dorian liked it. The warmth reminded him of several nights he’d spent along the Mediterranean in Southern France, where some of the more difficult memories he’d gone to Europe to escape had come back up.
The journey had been painful, but cathartic. And now, as he thought of the way the moon had reflected on the Mediterranean as he’d stood in the shallow waves, the tears leaking down his face, he felt a strange kind of happiness.
But speaking of tears…
Someone was crying close by. He could hear them--her, he was fairly certain--coming from just out of view, in the garden. Dorian took a step forward.
A young woman’s tears pulled on his heartstrings, whether he willed it or no. He couldn’t not respond to it. The crying was soft but consistent, and he took another step forward, then another, until he was walking down the stairs and out into the garden.
Inside, he cursed himself. This is none of your business, Dorian! Just stay out of it. But he couldn’t. Every instinct inside of him drove him toward the sound.
Dorian came around the edge of a blossoming cherry tree and saw a young woman sitting on a bench next to a pond, in profile to him. She was crying, her hands pressed to her face, her shoulders shaking. In the moonlight, she looked like the marbles he’d seen in Milan , her skin pale and milky and her shiny black hair turned momentarily silver.
Dorian paused, and for a moment, he was transfixed. With the water glimmering behind her, s he was like an apparition that had emerged from the pond--like the Lady of the Lake holding King Arthur’s sword up out of the waters for him to take.
Dorian took another step forward, and the woman looked up at the sound. At once, her eyes went wide, and she stopped crying and sprang to her feet. At the same time, Dorian’s chest tightened, and he drew in a sharp breath.
“Lady Leah?” he asked in astonishment as his eyes swept over her. “Is that really you?”
“Your Grace,” she murmured, sweeping into a low curtsy. “Please excuse me, I did not realize anyone was here.”
“Nonsense, don’t apologize,” Dorian said, stepping closer and smiling at his best friend’s little sister. Although she was not so little anymore. How old would she be now? Eighteen? Nineteen?
The last time he’d seen her, she had been a girl of sixteen, still awkward and gangly, not quite grown into herself. But now… she was a woman. And as he gazed at her, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she had become. She’d grown into her curves, and he felt his mouth grow dry with the way her gown showed them off.
Get your mind out of the gutter! She is Lucien’s sister!
Less scandalous of him to notice were her raven-black hair, which was sleek and shiny, and her sparkling green eyes, which glimmered beautifully even through her tears. And then there were her high cheekbones, her perfect button nose, and her bow mouth. Oh yes, she had become very beautiful indeed.
Not that any of that mattered right now. All that mattered was making sure she was alright--and then escorting her back to the ball. Lucien would be worried once he realized she was missing.
“Are you well?” Dorian asked.
“I am…” Lady Leah hesitated. It was clear that she wanted to do the polite thing and say she was well; but it was also clear that she would be lying. He had just caught her crying, after all.
“Here, take this,” he said, saving her from having to answer by reaching into his pocket and handing her his handkerchief. She smiled as she accepted it and dabbed at her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, handing the handkerchief back to him. She blinked, her eyes now dry, and looked up at him more curiously. “I had not heard you were returning to England. It has been a long time since we’ve seen you.”
“Yes, too long,” Dorian lamented. “And that was one of the reasons I returned quickly and without notice. It occurred to me one day, in a village in Greece, that I couldn’t go another day without my friends. There is no one to talk to in Greece.”
Lady Leah raised an eyebrow. “Because you don’t speak Greek?”
“Precisely,” he said, laughing. “And you know me: if I am not talking, I’m not happy.”
“It is hard to imagine you in a place where you can’t hold court among all your friends and be the life of the party.”
“Oh, I was still the life of the party,” Dorian said, grinning mischievously at her--and making her blush, he was delighted to see. “But no one could understand a thing I was saying--and vice versa. It got a bit…” He wanted to say lonesome, but something held him back from doing so; he didn’t want Lady Leah to think of him that way. “Dull,” he finished instead. “So I came home. And I am very glad I did! It seems that in my absence Lucien has become a besotted fool!”
“Yes,” Lady Leah said, laughing. “But he is much less rigid now, so we allow him to be besotted. And Emery--the Duchess, I mean--is absolutely wonderful. The best older sister I could ever ask for.”
“And you are out now?” Dorian asked, indicating the ball behind them with a flourish of his hand. “A marriageable young lady already?”
Lady Leah smiled, but the curve of her lips took on a rigid set. “Yes, I am a marriageable young lady.” A dark expression passed over her face, but she didn’t elaborate more. Dorian hesitated. Should he ask her what was wrong?
In most cases, he wouldn’t. He liked to cheer young ladies up, not make them cry more. But Lady Leah was an old friend, and he felt a softness in his heart when it came to her. And she looked so beautiful but fragile tonight, so vulnerable and in need of protecting…
Then you’re the last person she needs, a voice in his head whispered maliciously. You can’t protect anyone, least of all fragile young ladies.
Despite the warmth, he shivered, and Lady Leah gave him a sympathetic look. “Are you cold? Should we go inside?”
“We probably should– ” he began, but before he could finish, he heard Lucien calling his voice.
“Is that my brother?” Lady Leah said, turning in the direction of the library.
“Yes, we were about to share a brandy when he had to go,” Dorian said. “But he’s back now, and I should really bring you inside before he begins to worry about you.”
“Dorian? Where did you go?” Lucien’s voice was closer, as if he were out through the French doors and onto the balcony. “Are you out in the garden?”
Dorian had just turned to call back to his friend, to let him know that yes, he was in the garden, but before he could, Lady Leah grabbed his hand.
Dorian froze.
For one thing, Lady Leah had removed her gloves. She was now touching him with her bare hands. Such things were not done.
And for another, when he looked up into her eyes, she was gazing at him with the most intense look he had ever seen in a young lady. It was equal parts desperation and guilt. Her pale skin had gone even paler.
“Lady Leah?” he asked uncertainly. “Are you alright?”
“I really am very sorry about this,” she said, her voice a low, gravelly murmur.
“What do you--” But he never got to finish his sentence. Because before he could, Leah had kissed him.
Dorian was so shocked that for several heartbeats, he did nothing; he simply allowed the girl to press her lips against his. It was an inelegant kiss, but there was a fiery, desperate need to it that he had to admire--more than admire.
Because as the fractions of seconds ticked past, Dorian realized that he was enjoying the kiss. She didn’t have technique, perhaps, but she had something more: passion. She kissed as if this were the most important thing she was ever going to do--as if her life depended on it. And he very much liked to be kissed like that.
Without thinking, Dorian’s hands came to Lady Leah’s waist, and he pulled her roughly against him. She let out a small gasp of surprise, which allowed him to take control of the kiss, deepening it. To his immense satisfaction, she momentarily melted into it.
This was the kind of kiss he could completely forget himself in. His hand went from her waist to her hair, and he curled his fingers into it. His fingers found the pins that kept her hair locked up, and he began to pull them out, his movements suddenly becoming urgent, purposeful . He had to get her hair down, to see how she would look with it cascading around her. He had to–
“What in God’s name is going on here?!”
The shout wrenched Dorian back into reality, and he sprang away from Lady Leah as if he had been electrocuted. Dorian whipped around to see Lucien standing by the cherry tree, a furious look on his face.
“How dare you?” Lucien roared, taking a threatening step toward them. “I thought you were my friend! My best friend! How could you do this to me, Dorian? To our Leah? To our family?”
“Lucien– ” Dorian began, but his friend cut him off.
“I know that you have no respect for women, but I had hoped that you might have some respect for my sister!”
“Lucien, don’t be like that,” Dorian said, his tendency to make light of situations kicking in. “Of course I respect women— and Lady Leah most of all.”
“And yet, you just compromised her!”
“Lucien, stop this at once,” Lady Leah snapped, and both Dorian and Lucien turned to stare at her in shock. Never in his life had Dorian heard Lady Leah speak so firmly and decisively. She was usually so ladylike, so poised and demure. But she was now looking at Lucien with a dark determination in her eyes. “This isn’t the Duke’s fault. It’s mine.”
Lucien stared at her. “Yours?” he repeated, incredulous. “Leah, you don’t know what you’re talking about. He is an experienced rake— he knows how to seduce women and make them feel as if they started it.”
Dorian frowned. If only I had such skills! But he couldn’t exactly object, since he himself had cultivated this reputation.
“I did start this,” Leah said. “I wanted to–” She swallowed. “To entrap him.”
A stunned silence followed this pronouncement. Dorian gaped at Lady Leah. This was not the polite, guarded, perfect young lady he thought he’d known.
“Why?” he asked, his voice aghast. “Why would you want to entrap me?”
“Because I have no other choice.” She turned to look at Lucien. “You know I have no choice. If I don’t find someone else to wed, I will be forced to marry Lord Dubois.”
“That old cod?” Dorian snorted. “Why in heaven’s name would you marry him?”
“Because he showed up at our house tonight with a marriage contract signed by my father promising me to him,” she said in a flat, expressionless voice.
Dorian stared at her. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” Lucien said, sighing heavily. “But the document may be fake! I am getting it authenticated. You shouldn’t have done this, Leah. You should have left it to me to prove the contract false.”
“I cannot leave my fate to chance,” she said, staring boldly at her brother. “I have to make my own destiny.”
“This is not the way to do it!” Lucien said. “Entrapping a gentleman will only lead to scandal!”
“Marrying Lord Dubois will lead to a lifetime of unhappiness!” she countered, her voice becoming edged with hysteria.
“I understand,” Dorian said, stepping forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. Lucien glared at him, and he removed the hand quickly. “You did this to save yourself. I can understand that, and I must admit, I admire your gumption.”
Lucien glared even more furiously at him. “Do not encourage her,” he snarled.
“Many young ladies are forced into terrible marriages that destroy them,” Dorian said, a bit more forcefully than he’d intended. “More of them should take matters into their own hands. I cannot discourage that.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Leah glance at him with surprise and appreciation, but he did not dare look at her, in case she read more in his eyes than he intended to show.
“Well, she may have taken matters into her own hands,” Lucien said after a moment, “but you still kissed her back.” There was a short, loaded silence. “Which means you must marry her. No matter how many ladies’ reputations you have ruined, you will not ruin my sister’s.”
Dorian said nothing for a long moment. The truth was, he had never ruined a lady’s reputation, no matter how flirtatious he was. Nor did he want to start now. Lady Leah was a good woman, and she didn’t deserve that. More importantly, he couldn’t allow her to marry a scoundrel like Lord Dubois.
But on the other hand, Dorian absolutely could not marry her. He had decided a long time ago that he would never marry, and he wasn’t going to break that vow now.
“How about a different proposal?” he asked, looking between Lucien and Lady Leah. “As you know, Lucien, I have no intention of marrying. Nor do I think I’d make your sister a good husband. But I also agree that I behaved abhorrently tonight and that I must do right by Lady Leah.”
He took a deep breath. “I will make you a deal. Give me a fortnight to find her a husband. A good, handsome, clever man who will treat her well. There is no way a document could be authenticated that quickly when one of the signatories is deceased, therefore we have at least that long until Lord Dubois will want the banns read. I am sure that in a fortnight, I can find Lady Leah a suitable match.”
He looked down at her, and the fear in her eyes was like a knife through his heart.
“And if I do not,” he added gently, “then I will marry her myself.”
Lady Leah looked at her brother. His brow was furrowed. “A fortnight…” He muttered. “I suppose I can delay the authentication that long. And it would be better for Leah if she were married to someone other than you. No offence, of course.”
“None taken,” Dorian said lightly, although he was a little offended.
“But… what if Dubois is able to prove the document is real by then?” Lady Leah asked nervously.
“Then I will marry you the moment he says so,” Dorian said. “But let us hope it does not come to that, and that I am able to find you a worthy husband.”
There was another short silence as Lucien and Lady Leah looked at one another again. Dorian got the impression that they were communicating in some kind of unspoken, sibling language of looks and glances. At last, Lucien turned back to Dorian.
“Very well,” he said. “I will allow this. But at the end of the fortnight, if she is still unmarried, you will wed her.”
“I will,” Dorian agreed, and he flashed a smile at Lady Leah. “But with looks like hers, I have no doubt it will be easy for me to find her a husband.”
Lady Leah flushed, but when she stepped forward and held out her hand, she looked composed. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I have another condition to our deal.”
“Oh?” Her eyes widened innocently, and he felt his heart flutter.
“You will be taking lessons from me. And you will have to follow my every word, or the deal is off.”