A Duke of Her Own(81)

Dukes had to be rational men. They couldn't simply dash off and do whatever they pleased. He quickened his pace. The carriage likely held Lisette's father, which was all to the good, because he should extend a formal request for Lisette's hand in marriage. Not to mention the fact that someone had mentioned a purported betrothal between Lisette and the next-door squire Thestle's son. Not Roland, but another one. That would have to be dealt with, he supposed.

There was always the chance that Gilner would refuse him, based on his bastard children, or Lisette's existing engagement. But now that he'd had a close look at the Gilner estate, he doubted it.

Gilner was clearly not a stickler for propriety. His daughter was chaperoned by a woman who brazenly lived with her devoted friend.

Moreover, from what he could see, Lady Marguerite spent a good deal of her time traveling. No severe elderly relative was part of the household, assigned to serve as a damper so that a suitor couldn't court Lisette whenever and wherever he wished. In fact, if he wanted, he could probably waltz right into Lisette's bedroom and deflower her.

No one would even notice, most likely.

Not that he would do it, because—

He walked down the front steps feeling like a fool. The carriage did not have the Gilner crest. A small group was standing in front of the steps, and Lisette turned around, waving.

"Leopold! Do come!"

He walked over, knowing the truth of it in his gut.

"You see?" she said happily, slipping her fingers into his. "I told you so!"

Eleanor was locked in the arms of a man.

Not just any man either. Gideon, Duke of Astley, was a particularly beautiful man. Not terribly tall, but who needed height when he had that profile? Villiers took a deep breath.

Gideon was kissing Eleanor in front of her sister Anne, Lisette, the butler, three footmen, assorted groomsmen—and Eleanor's own mother, the duchess. Who was smiling, Villiers realized with another jolt. Not with the kind of barbed acceptance with which she greeted the news that he, the Duke of Villiers, was marrying her daughter, but with a kind of wild, surprised joy.

And Eleanor? He could see only the back of her head, but Gideon's hand was rumpling her hair, holding her with such tenderness that even he, coldhearted bastard that he was, felt...something.

"Isn't it romantic?" Lisette said, squeezing his hand.



It took everything he had not to pull away from her.

"They love each other so much. She waited for him. And he came to her the very first moment he could. I suppose he's been thinking of her every day for years." He could just imagine that.

Unfortunately.





Chapter Twenty


The Duchess of Montague was smiling with a fierce happiness that Eleanor hadn't seen since her brother gained his majority. "Just wait until your father learns of this," she said to Eleanor, more or less under her breath. "He'll be so pleased."

They were leading Gideon to the drawing room, since her mother had graciously allowed that her daughter might have a short unchaperoned conversation with the duke.

"It's utterly mad, of course," she continued. "We'll have to deny all rumors. The duke should be mourning Ada; of course, he is mourning Ada. We won't announce anything. We'll keep it entirely secret. You'll have to drop Villiers. But no one knows of your engagement to him; it will be a seven-day wonder."

"Villiers is going to marry Lisette," Eleanor said flatly. She glanced back to find that Gideon had been caught by Anne. She felt a qualm, given Anne's express dislike for Gideon, but her sister seemed to be behaving politely enough.

"Lisette's father won't be happy with that. Gilner will have to come home now. I can't imagine that he wants his daughter to marry Villiers, not with those children of his in the picture."

"Villiers is a good man," Eleanor said. "And a duke."

"What's more, there's the question of Lisette herself," her mother continued, not even listening. "The other night the squire rattled on about his elder son being engaged to Lisette, but it was clear to me that the man was desperate to save his son. The poor boy has been living abroad for years, ducking the marriage."

The conversation felt both morbid and ill-bred, so Eleanor moved to a sofa and sat down, hands folded.

"I'll allow you fifteen minutes together," her mother said. "No more than that, if you please. I can't have the servants gossiping more than they're already likely to do. I suppose Astley will spend the night, but I'll instruct him to leave tomorrow morning. This really is a most disgraceful visit." She looked entirely happy.

Gideon appeared, and the duchess slipped out, closing the door firmly behind her.

Eleanor felt as if she were having one of those odd experiences described in the papers by people who claimed to have encountered a ghost. Surely this Gideon could not be the living, real Gideon? But there he was, standing in the doorframe, apparently solid and real.