Mariel’s throat constricted as they reached the corner of Hereford Street. She dreaded entering the house, facing her mother’s unabashed joy at her impending marriage and her father’s palpable relief.

Her spirits sank lower and lower as she and Penny neared the end of the block.

When they were within steps of the town-house its door opened and a man emerged.

He turned towards them and the sun illuminated his face. ‘Mariel?’

She froze.

This man was the one person she’d thought never to see again, never wished to see again. He was the man to whom she’d been secretly betrothed—the man who had just inhabited her thoughts.

The man who had deserted her.

Leo Fitzmanning.

AUTHOR NOTE

One of the delights of my writing career was collaborating with Amanda McCabe and Deb Marlowe on The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor anthology. We’d known each other and been friends even before our Mills & Boon® days. In fact we went on a Regency tour of England together, visiting Mayfair and Brighton and Bath, seeing all the Regency era houses and museums. One of our highlights was a venture on our own through Hyde Park.

It was such a great thrill to be invited to do the anthology together. We were given carte blanche to create it any way we wished.

The three of us gathered for a weekend of history and brainstorming at Historic Williamsburg, Virginia, where we created The Fitzmanning Miscellany, the group of siblings and half-siblings who became the heroes and heroines of our novellas and the connected books.

These characters just leapt from our imaginations that day, as if they were real people waiting for us to knock on their door and interview them. A NOT SO RESPECTABLE GENTLEMAN? is Leo’s story and, sadly, the last of the Welbourne Manor series. It has been such a pleasure.

Diane

The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor books:

SNOWBOUND AND SEDUCED by Amanda McCabe

(in Regency Christmas Proposals) THE SHY DUCHESS by Amanda McCabe HOW TO MARRY A RAKE by Deb Marlowe A NOT SO RESPECTABLE GENTLEMAN? by Diane Gaston

About the Author

As a psychiatric social worker, DIANE GASTON spent years helping others create real-life happy endings. Now Diane crafts fictional ones, writing the kind of historical romance she’s always loved to read. The youngest of three daughters of a US Army Colonel, Diane moved frequently during her childhood, even living for a year in Japan. It continues to amaze her that her own son and daughter grew up in one house in Northern Virginia. Diane still lives in that house, with her husband and three very ordinary housecats. Visit Diane’s website at http://dianegaston.com

Previous novels by the same author:

THE MYSTERIOUS MISS M

THE WAGERING WIDOW

A REPUTABLE RAKE

INNOCENCE AND IMPROPRIETY

A TWELFTH NIGHT TALE

(in A Regency Christmas anthology) THE VANISHING VISCOUNTESS SCANDALISING THE TON JUSTINE AND THE NOBLE VISCOUNT (in Regency Summer Scandals) GALLANT OFFICER, FORBIDDEN LADY* CHIVALROUS CAPTAIN, REBEL MISTRESS* VALIANT SOLDIER, BEAUTIFUL ENEMY*

*Three Soldiers mini-series

And in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:

THE UNLACING OF MISS LEIGH

THE LIBERATION OF MISS FINCH

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Not So

Respectable

Gentleman?

Diane Gaston

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Amanda McCabe and Deb Marlowe, my fellow

creators of The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor and its heroes and heroines, The Fitzmanning Miscellany.

Prologue

Spring 1826

Flames.

White hot, blinding red and orange and blue. Flames roaring like a dragon, weaving through the stable, crawling up the walls, devouring everything in its path.

Leo Fitzmanning still saw the flames, felt their heat, heard the screams of his horses, as he entered the mahogany-shelved library of a London town house. The scent of smoke lingered in his nostrils and his muscles ached from battling the fire for nearly two days.

One moment of inattention, one second of carelessness, had cost him his stable and two outbuildings. He’d failed to notice the peg holding the lantern had become loose. The lantern fell, spreading flames in an instant.

He blinked the vision away and faced the man he’d waited nearly a month to see.

Mr Cecil Covendale rose from the chair and extended his hand across the paper-cluttered desk. ‘Good day, Fitzmanning.’ His manner seemed affable. That was a good sign. ‘How are you faring since the fire? You appear uninjured.’

News apparently travelled swiftly the ten miles between Welbourne Manor, on the outskirts of Richmond, and Mayfair.

‘Only minor burns, sir.’ He accepted the older man’s handshake.

The stables, his horses and two outbuildings would cost a great deal to replace, a fact of which Covendale was, no doubt, aware.

‘Word is you almost lost the house.’ Covendale’s expression showed only concern, not the disdain Leo expected in response to his failed enterprise. ‘What a pity that would have been.’

Not for those who would rejoice at seeing Welbourne Manor destroyed. Recompense for its scandalous past, they would say, although Leo aspired to revise its reputation. To Leo and his siblings, Welbourne Manor was a beloved place. He would never have forgiven himself if he’d lost their safe haven, the house where they spent their unconventional childhood.

‘The house is untouched.’ Leo shrugged. ‘The rest can be rebuilt.’

If one had the money, that is. Would Covendale guess nearly all Leo’s funds had been invested in the stud farm, now nothing but ashes?

His mind reeled with all the tasks he’d left undone by keeping this appointment. Finding stables for the few surviving horses. Making arrangements for his stable workers, who had suddenly lost the roof over their heads and all their worldly possessions. He’d left them at the Manor, raking through the ashes, making certain that no glowing embers hid beneath the debris, hungry for more destruction. He ought to be working beside them, preparing to rebuild.

But nothing would have kept him from this appointment with Covendale. The man had already put him off for weeks. Some matters were even more important than Welbourne Manor.

‘I presume you know why I wished to speak with you,’ Leo began.

The smile faded from Covendale’s face. ‘I do indeed.’

Hairs rose on the back of Leo’s neck. Why the change in expression? ‘Your daughter told you?’

‘She did.’ Covendale lowered himself into his chair. He did not ask Leo to sit.

Leo’s muscles stiffened. ‘Then you know I have come to ask your permission to marry her.’

‘I do.’ Covendale sighed and shook his head as if in dismay. ‘How do I proceed?’

Leo heard the fire’s roar again. ‘I assure you, the loss of my stable is only a minor setback. Your daughter will want for nothing.’

Leo would recoup his losses, he vowed. He’d borrow the money from his brother if he had to. Rebuild his stables to be grander. Make his stud farm even more prosperous, more respected.

‘Perhaps.’ Covendale winced. ‘But—’

Leo cut him off. ‘Are you concerned about her inheritance? I have no need of her inheritance.’

Mariel’s great-aunt had bequeathed her a considerable fortune, to be bestowed upon her at age twenty-five if she remained unmarried, sooner if she married with her father’s approval. If her marriage did not meet her father’s approval, however, the fortune would be forfeited to some obscure and frivolous charity.

Leo pressed on. ‘I ask your approval of our marriage only because I will not have Mariel give up her money for me.’

Leo and Mariel had discussed this. She’d insisted her father would never approve of Leo. They’d considered running off to Scotland, but even though Mariel did not care about the money she stood to lose by eloping, she did care about the scandal it would cause her family, especially her younger sisters. Leo also had no wish for scandal. He planned to gain society’s respect by producing the finest horses in England, even finer than his brother Stephen’s horses. Furthermore, Leo would not take a penny of Mariel’s money. It would always remain under her control.

He gave Covendale a steady look. ‘I assure you, the money will remain in Mariel’s hands. I will sign papers to that effect. We can make the arrangement before the marriage, if you like.’

Covendale raised a hand. ‘Enough, Fitzmanning. This matter between you and my daughter has come as a complete surprise to me. I knew nothing of this—this—courtship before Mariel informed me why you sought an appointment.’

Leo had no defence for the secrecy, except that Mariel had desired it. ‘Mariel and I have known each other since childhood, as you well know. She and my sisters have remained friends. We became reacquainted while she visited with them.’

In January, amidst Charlotte’s wailing children and her barking pugs, Leo had found Mariel again. No longer was she the annoying girl with plaited hair who’d joined his sisters in trailing after him. Mariel had transformed into a woman so lovely that, for that first moment of glimpsing her again, he’d forgotten how to breathe. They met again at Charlotte’s house and eventually contrived further meetings in secret. No one knew of their attachment, of the strong bond that quickly grew between them. No one knew that Mariel was the reason Leo left his brother’s employ to establish his own stud farm. To make a loving, respectable home for her at Welbourne Manor.

Covendale waved a hand. ‘Never mind that. When did you last speak with my daughter?’

It had been the day they’d discussed setting up this meeting. ‘About a month ago.’

Since then there had been no opportunity to contact her. He’d thrown himself into setting up his farm to keep from missing her and to make the time fly.

Covendale glanced away, seeming to mull over something. He rubbed his face and turned back to Leo. ‘A month can be a long time. Much can happen.’

Leo sprang towards the desk and came within inches of Covendale’s nose. ‘Has something happened to Mariel? I demand you tell me. Is she ill? Is she hurt?’

‘Neither!’ The man recoiled. ‘She is betrothed!’

Leo stepped back. His brow knit in confusion. ‘Betrothed? Yes. She is betrothed to me.’

‘Not to you.’ Covendale glanced away. ‘She is betrothed to Lord Ashworth.’

Ashworth?

Edward Ashworth?

Ashworth had been a schoolmate of Leo’s, an affable boy who’d grown into a decent man. He was titled, wealthy and well liked by everyone, the epitome of an ideal husband.

Covendale handed Leo a sheet of paper. ‘It is all arranged. Here is the special licence. I could show you the marriage settlement papers….’

Mariel’s and Ashworth’s names were written legibly on the sheet of paper that allowed couples to marry elsewhere than a church and which waived the reading of the banns. The paper was signed by the Archbishop.

Leo shoved the paper back to Covendale. ‘Does Mariel know of this?’

Covendale coughed. ‘Of course she knows of it.’

‘I would speak with her, sir. Send for her.’ Mariel would never do this. Not without telling him.

‘She is not here.’ Her father raised his shoulders. ‘She and her mother are in Herefordshire at Ashworth’s estate.’

At Ashworth’s estate?

Leo forced himself to meet and hold Covendale’s gaze. Inside, his emotions flamed like the stable’s burning rafters.

Why would she go there, if not …?

Covendale went on. ‘Ashworth is a fine man, from a decent family. His is an old title. Mariel is not a foolish girl. She knows this is an excellent match for her. A real step up.’ He made a mollifying gesture. ‘You must look at this situation from my point of view. Do I approve your suit or the suit of a young man who possesses a title? Who will be better for my daughter?’

Leo glared at him. ‘You cannot force Mariel to marry. She is of age.’

‘I am not forcing her,’ the man insisted. ‘Her age is of issue, of course. That cannot be ignored. At twenty-one she’s practically on the shelf. Her mother and I despaired of her ever making a good match. I believe she herself was becoming somewhat desperate—but, then, perhaps that is why she considered marrying you.’

Leo ignored that put-down. ‘No. We pledged our devotion to each other.’ Mariel’s love was genuine. He would wager everything he possessed upon it.

Although most of what he possessed was now mere ashes.

Covendale clucked. ‘Devotion? My poor, poor fellow. Devotion is fleeting. Whatever pretty words passed between you and my daughter are no match for what really matters.’

‘And that is?’ The fire again roared in Leo’s ears.

Covendale shifted in his chair. ‘A good name. Connections. Status in society.’ He leaned closer. ‘That is what my daughter desires and deserves. She will not have that if she marries you.’

So that was it? Good name? Status? Leo intended to build those things for himself. And he was not without connections. His father and King George had been fast friends, for God’s sake.

Covendale smiled. ‘Like all young women, she wishes to marry respectably.’

Leo’s fists tightened. ‘Have I ever conducted myself in any way that was not respectable?’

‘Not that I’ve heard.’ The man wagged his finger at Leo. ‘With the exception of courting my daughter in secret.’

Leo burned as if the flames continued to surround him.

Covendale made another mollifying gesture. ‘You must look at this situation rationally. Given a choice, Mariel cannot debase herself with—with a man of your birth.’

A bastard, he meant.

‘Your father, for all his titles and high friends, flouted the manners of proper society. What is more, he and your equally scandalous mother reared you in a most amoral atmosphere …’

Was this explanation necessary? Leo had always lived with knowledge of his origins.

His father, the Duke of Manning, left his wife to set up housekeeping at Welbourne Manor with the equally married Countess of Linwall. They lived together for twenty years in unmarried, free-spirited bliss, producing Leo and his two sisters from their unsanctified union. His father’s two legitimate sons, Nicholas, now the duke, and Stephen, a successful horse-breeder, spent nearly as much of their childhood at Welbourne Manor as Leo did. Also reared there was Justine, Leo’s half-sister by a French woman his father bedded before meeting his mother.

Society called the lot of them The Fitzmanning Miscellany. But not to Leo’s face, not if they wished to avoid broken bones.

Leo’s hand curled into a fist. ‘My brothers were reared at Welbourne Manor.’ Except Brenner, his mother’s legitimate son, the current Earl of Linwall. Leo and his siblings had not known Brenner until after their parents died. ‘Do you consider them scandalous?’

‘Of course I do!’ Covendale exclaimed. ‘But they are legitimate. Society accepts them for that reason alone. You, however, would not be accepted anywhere if not for the fact that your father was a duke. It was the only reason I ever allowed Mariel to befriend your sisters.’

Leo damned well knew society merely tolerated him. And his sisters. The difference between being the legitimate son and being the bastard had always been made crystal clear to him.

Truth be told, even his brothers treated him differently, albeit out of love for him. Nicholas and Stephen were forever trying to shield him from the consequences of his birth, to make it up to him for the shabby treatment by others. Their efforts were almost as painful as the barbs he’d endured as a schoolboy. Or the cuts, as an adult.

Society expected him to become a libertine like his father, but he was determined to prove society wrong. From the time he’d been a mere lad, he’d made certain his behaviour was unblemished.

A man should be judged by his own character. And by his achievements. Leo intended to reach the pinnacle in both.

Mariel understood that. She’d supported him. Admired his drive. It had never mattered to her that his father had not been married to his mother. She’d loved him.

Leo faced Covendale and looked directly into his eyes. ‘I do not believe any of this. This daughter you speak of is not the Mariel I know. She would not marry merely for a title. It is impossible.’

The older man pursed his lips. ‘Well, there is also your financial situation. A stud farm is nothing to Ashworth’s fortune. And now, with the fire, you have several buildings to replace, not to mention livestock. Even if we could ignore the vast inequality between your birth and that of Ashworth, you presently have nothing to offer my daughter.’

The fire. For all Leo’s grand thoughts about achieving the pinnacle of respect, the ashes of his former dream revealed his failure.

Covendale turned all sympathy. ‘I realise this is difficult for you. It is difficult for me that she left it to me to inform you, but I assure you, Ashworth came courting her and it has resulted in this.’ He picked up the special licence.

Leo shook his head. ‘She would have contacted me. Told me herself if her sentiments had changed.’

Her father held up a finger. ‘It almost slipped my mind. Mariel did leave word for you. She wrote you a note.’ Covendale opened a drawer and withdrew a sealed, folded sheet.

Leo took the paper from the man’s hand and broke the seal.

It read:

Dear Leo,

No time to write a proper note. I meant to be there in person, but Father will explain it all.

Wishing nothing but good to you, Mariel

It was written in her hand. The paper even smelled of her.

He crushed it in his fist. Father will explain it all.

‘I’m sorry, boy,’ Covendale said quietly.

The fire roared inside him again and flames filled his vision.

The special licence. Mariel’s absence. Her note.

His failure.

There was no more denying it. She’d chosen respectability over him. A legitimate husband over a bastard one. And, without knowing, a wealthy man over a failure.

‘I do not know what else to say to you,’ Covendale said.

Leo barely heard him.

He thought about losing his horses, his stable. Losing Mariel was a thousand times worse. The pain was so intense he had to fight to remain upright. It was as if his insides were consumed by flames and what was left was ashes, a void that never could be refilled.

Respectability be damned. Stud farm be damned.

What had all his conscientious behaviour and hard work brought him? A pile of cinders.

Being jilted by Mariel.

He forced himself to rise to his full height.

‘You are correct, sir. There is nothing more to say.’ He nodded to Covendale. ‘Good day.’

Leo turned and strode out of Covendale’s library, out of the town house, into the grey afternoon drizzle.

And the emptiness that was now his life.

Chapter One

June, 1828—two years later

Loud pounding forced Leo from a dead sleep.

He opened his eyes and was stabbed by a sliver of sunlight, harbinger of a fine spring London day. He clapped his hands to his head.

Too much brandy. Now he was paying the price.

More pounding. A caller at his door.

Why the devil did Walker not send them away?

Walker was Leo’s valet, but likely not out of bed himself. He and Leo had engaged in a bout of celebratory drinking after Leo returned from the card tables the previous night.

Walker might act as Leo’s valet, but he looked nothing like a gentleman’s gentleman. He’d been a ruffian from the Rookerie, caught by circumstance in Paris and hungry for a new life. Leo encountered him by accident and they had become more than gentleman and gentleman’s man. They’d become friends … and now business partners.

The pounding resumed and Leo could just make out the voice of a man demanding to be admitted.

He groaned and roused himself from the bed, searching around the room for the clothes he’d shed the night before. The sound stopped and he sat back on the bed. Excellent. Walker would deal with it. Send the caller away.

Once, Leo would have been up and out to his stables at dawn. He’d have done a half day’s work by this hour. He rubbed his face. That had been an age ago. A different lifetime. Being in London brought back the memory, but he’d carved out a new life for himself—from very rough rock, he might add—but it was a life that suited him surprisingly well.

Walker knocked and entered his bedchamber. ‘Your family calls.’

His family? ‘Which ones?’

‘All of them.’

All six? His brothers and his sisters? ‘What the devil do they want?’

‘They would not tell me,’ Walker replied.

Leo ran his hand through his hair. ‘Why didn’t you make some excuse? Say I was out?’ It did Leo no credit that he’d avoided them for the fortnight he’d been in town, but he’d been busy. Besides, they’d never understand the direction his life had taken while he’d been away.

Walker cocked an eyebrow. ‘I thought it unwise to engage in fisticuffs with a duke, an earl and one tiny, growling dog.’

Good God. His sister Charlotte brought one of her pugs.

‘Very well. I will see them.’ He pulled his shirt over his head. Walker brushed off his coat with his hand.

Leo’s siblings had, no doubt, come with help to offer and would scold him for his behaviour, which had taken a downward path since last he’d been in London, although he trusted they’d never know the half of it. Let them believe the stories about him, that Leo was as much a libertine as his father had once been, but they would not know that Leo had faced situations their father would never have imagined facing.

He shoved his arms into the sleeves of the coat and pulled on his boots. ‘I have the feeling I will not enjoy this.’

He left the bedchamber and entered the sitting room.

His brothers and sisters immediately turned to him. They stood in a circle. In fact, they’d even rearranged his seating into a circle.

‘Leo!’ Nicholas spoke first. As duke, he was head of the family. ‘Good morning.’

Charlotte’s pug yapped from under her arm.

Justine rushed over to him, clasping both his hands. ‘Leo, how good it is to see you. You look dreadful.’ She touched his cheek and spoke with some surprise.

‘Indeed.’ Brenner joined her.

He must look a sight. Unshaven. Rumpled clothes. Bloodshot eyes.

Brenner searched his face. ‘Are you unwell?’

‘Not at all,’ Leo replied. ‘Late night.’

Brenner and Justine comprised the most complex of his unusual sibling relations. She was his half-sister by his father, and Brenner, now Lord Linwall, was his half-brother by his mother. They were married to each other. Their love affair happened right after Leo’s parents died.

Brenner flashed him one more worried look before wrapping his arms around Leo in a brotherly hug. The others swarmed around him. Charlotte burst into tears and wept against his chest. Nicholas and Stephen slapped him on the back. Even the pug raced around his feet and tried to jump up his legs. Only Annalise held back, but that was typical of her. She was observing the scene and would probably make a painting of it and call it The Return of the Prodigal Son.

Only he had no intention of returning to the well-meaning bosom of his family. He was just passing through, literally waiting for his ship to come in.

‘What are you doing here?’ he managed to ask.

Nicholas clapped his hands. ‘Come. Let us all sit and we will tell you.’

One of the chairs was set just a little inside the circle. That was the one they left for him.

Nicholas leaned forwards. ‘We are here out of concern for you.’

Of course they were. ‘Concern?’ They intended to fix things for him. Take care of him as they’d always done.

‘We are so afraid for you, Leo!’ Ever the dramatist, Charlotte punctuated this with a sob. ‘What will become of you?’ Her dog jumped onto her lap and licked her face.

This was all nonsense. ‘What the devil are you talking about?’

Nicholas spoke. ‘You are spending your time drinking, womanising and gambling.’

He certainly looked the part this morning.

‘It won’t do,’ Nicholas went on. ‘It is time you found some direction in your life.’

‘Some useful occupation,’ Stephen explained.

‘Before it is too late,’ Charlotte added.

It appeared that rumours of his rakish living had preceded him. To be sure, he often stayed up all night playing cards, but he womanised hardly at all and actually drank very little.

Except for this morning.

They could not know of his more clandestine dealings, one that nearly got him killed, and others that skirted the law and earned him a great deal of wealth.

Leo started to rise from his seat. ‘I assure you, I am well able to handle myself.’

Brenner, who was seated next to him, put a hand on his shoulder and silently implored him to stay in the chair.

He sat back down. ‘Do not trouble yourselves about me.’

‘But we do,’ whispered Annalise. ‘I mean, we must trouble ourselves.’

Brenner took on a tone of reasonableness. ‘We understood your need to get away, to travel. It was good for you to see something of the world, but now—’

‘Now you are just drinking and gaming,’ Justine broke in. ‘You avoid the family. You avoid healthy pursuits.’

How easily they believed the worst of him. And how readily they assumed it was their job to fix him.

‘You cannot know my pursuits.’ He gritted his teeth.

‘Oh, yes, we can.’ Nicholas levelled his gaze at him. ‘We have ways of finding out everything.’

Not everything, Leo thought. They obviously knew nothing about his investments. He’d wager a pony that they had never heard of what he and Walker had been through. And they’d never known the real reason he had fled England, why he still had no use for London society.

One after the other they begged him to change his life, to abandon his pursuit of pleasure. They implored him to care about something again, to invest his hopes and dreams in something.

He ought to tell them, but the shipment of goods he was expecting was not precisely done to the letter of the law. Not that it would hurt anyone.

‘The thing is …’ Nicholas glanced towards Brenner, who nodded approval. ‘We have a surprise for you.’

Stephen moved to the edge of his seat. ‘We’ve rebuilt the stable at Welbourne Manor! And the outbuildings. Bigger and better than before. It is all ready for you. Complete with a fine breeding pair from my stables, already in residence at the Manor. Say the word—today, if you like—and I’ll take you to Tattersall’s to buy more horses. If you need money—’

Leo felt the blood rush to his face. ‘No.’

Charlotte piped up. ‘Nothing has changed at Welbourne Manor. Even the servants are the same. Halton, Signore Napoli, Thomas—’

‘It is waiting for you,’ Justine added. ‘What do you say, Leo?’

Leo regarded each of them in turn. ‘I sold Welbourne Manor to all of you. It is not mine any more. I no longer wish to breed horses. And I am not staying.’

‘Leo—’ Brenner began.

‘No.’ He spoke firmly. ‘I do not need help. And I especially do not need for you to tell me what to do.’

‘We are not …’ Brenner protested.

It was no use to explain to them. He did not need them to help him. He did not need anyone. He’d proven it to himself. He had left the country after losing everything, and, almost out of nothing, built a solid fortune. Without a good name. Without top-lofty connections. What’s more, he no longer sought the good opinion of the ton. He’d discovered self-reliance was more valuable than what society thought of him.

‘I refuse to discuss this further.’ Leo kept his voice firm. ‘If you continue, I will walk out the door.’ He softened. ‘Tell me about yourselves. How are you faring? How many nieces and nephews do I have? I confess to have lost count.’

He only half listened as they proudly filled him in on their children, their lives. When they spoke, their faces glowed with contentment and deep satisfaction. They were happy and that gladdened him.

But their visit brought back memories. Of his dreams for Welbourne Manor, and a similar happiness that had almost been within his reach.

Late that night Leo again sat at a card table at a Mayfair gaming hell. Tucked among discreet buildings off St James’s Street, the place buzzed with men’s voices and women’s laughter. Smoke from cheroots filled the air. Disquieting. Smoke always disquieted him.

Leo held excellent cards. Perhaps a run of luck would settle the restlessness that had plagued him ever since his siblings’ visits.

‘Did you hear about Kellford?’ the man on his right at the whist table asked as he rearranged his cards.

Leo lifted his eyes from his own hand without any great interest in Baron Kellford. He’d known Kellford in Vienna. ‘Your turn, sir.’

But the man clearly would not throw down his card before disgorging his precious on dit. Did he have a trump card or not?

Leo’s opponent rearranged his hand. Again. ‘The news is quite amusing.’ Pressing his cards against his chest, the fellow looked from Leo to the other two men at the table. ‘Kellford is soon to be flush in the pocket.’ He leaned back, waiting for one of them to ask for more.

Leo’s whist partner took the bait. ‘Did he engage some unbreeched pup in a game of piquet?’

That would be like Kellford. Take advantage of some green lad in London for the first time.

‘Oh, he did not win a hand at cards, but he will win a hand.’ The man chuckled at his clever wordplay and finally threw down a card of the leading suit.

Leo trumped it.

Seemingly unconcerned with the loss, the man grinned. ‘Kellford is betrothed. He’s marrying an heiress.’

Poor woman. Leo collected the markers he’d won.

His partner shuffled for the next deal. ‘I’m the one who needs an heiress. Who did Kellford find? Some squint-eyed daughter of a wealthy cit?’

‘Not at all,’ the man said. ‘He’s marrying Miss Covendale.’

Leo froze.

No. Mariel married Ashworth. Hadn’t she? Leo spent two years on the Continent, travelling as far as he could to keep from hearing news of her marriage to Ashworth. On his first day in London, who did he glimpse on Oxford Street? Ashworth. He’d half expected to see Mariel at the man’s side. What had happened?

More to the point, why marry Kellford?

The noise and smoke-filled rowdiness of the gaming hell receded, and in his mind’s eye Leo saw Kellford, whip in hand, about to strike a cowering tavern maid from the hotel where they both happened to be staying. Leo had pulled the whip from the baron’s hand and forced Kellford out of the hotel.

‘Come now. I hired her!’ Kellford had protested. ‘I would have paid her well.’

Leo closed his eyes and saw Mariel’s face instead of that nameless girl.

‘Mariel Covendale?’ Leo’s partner leaned back. ‘Men have been trying to win her fortune for years. How the devil did Kellford manage such a coup?’

How indeed.

‘I do not know.’ The gossipmonger shook his head. ‘But the first banns have been read. I wager before the knot is tied, I’ll learn how he did it.’

The fourth man at the table piped up. ‘I wager a pony you will not.’

As the three men placed bets with each other, Leo stood and scooped up his share of the winnings.

‘What are you doing?’ his partner cried. ‘The set is unfinished.’

‘I must leave.’ Leo did not explain.

He hurried out to the street. The night was damp after a day of steady rain. The cobbles glistened under the lamplight and the sound of horses’ hooves rang like bells.

Leo walked, hoping the night air would cool emotions he thought had vanished long ago.

Kellford had once boasted of being a devotee of the Marquis de Sade, the French debaucher so depraved even Napoleon had banned his books. ‘The man was a genius,’ Kellford had said of de Sade. ‘A connoisseur of pleasure. Why should I not have pleasure if I wish it?’

Now all Leo could picture was Kellford engaging in pleasure with Mariel.

A coachman shouted a warning to Leo as he dashed across Piccadilly. He found himself wandering towards Grosvenor Square within blocks of Covendale’s London town house. From an open window in one of the mansions, an orchestra played ‘Bonnie Highland Laddie,’ a Scottish reel. It was near the end of the Season and some member of the ton was undoubtedly hosting a ball.

Did Mariel attend? Leo wondered. Was she dancing with Kellford?

He turned away from the sound and swung back towards Grosvenor Square, staring past the buildings there as if looking directly into her house on Hereford Street.

Had her father approved this marriage? Surely Covendale had heard talk of Kellford’s particular habits.

Or perhaps not. One disadvantage of living a respectable life was being unaware of how low deeply depraved men could sink.

Leo flexed his hand into a fist.

He’d vowed to have nothing more to do with Covendale or his daughter, but could he live with himself if he said nothing? If he’d save a Viennese tavern maid from Kellford’s cruelty, surely he must save Mariel from it.

He turned around and headed back to his rooms.

No brandy this night. He wanted a clear head when he called upon Covendale first thing in the morning.

Chapter Two

‘Do not walk so fast, Penny.’ Mariel Covendale came to an exasperated halt on the pavement.

‘Sorry, miss.’ Her maid returned to her with head bowed.

Mariel sighed. ‘No, I am sorry. I did not mean to snap at you. It is merely that I am in no great rush to return home.’

Penny, a petite but sturdy blonde, so pretty she would have been prime prey in any household with young sons about, looked at her soft-heartedly. ‘Whatever you wish, miss.’

The maid deliberately slowed her steps. After a few minutes, she commented, ‘You did not find anything to purchase. Not even fabric for your bridal clothes.’ Penny sounded more disappointed than Mariel felt.

Mariel smiled. ‘That is of no consequence.’

In truth, she’d not cared enough to make a purchase. She’d merely wished to escape the house and her parents for time alone. Time to think. So she’d risen early and taken Penny with her to the shops. They’d browsed for hours.

Penny’s brow furrowed. ‘I cannot help but worry for you, miss, the wedding so close and everything.’

Too close, Mariel thought.

They crossed Green Street and Penny pulled ahead again, but caught herself, turning back to Mariel with an apologetic glance.

The girl was really a dear and so devoted that Mariel had been tempted to make her a confidante.

Better to say nothing, though. Why burden her poor maid?

Instead she gazed up at the sky, unusually blue and cloudless this fine spring day. Yesterday’s rains had washed the grey from London’s skies. Weather always improved if one merely has patience.

Unfortunately Mariel saw only grey skies ahead for her. And she had no time for patience.

For Penny’s sake, though, she forced her mood to brighten. ‘It is a lovely day, I must admit. That is reason enough to dally.’

Penny gave her a quizzical look. ‘If you do not mind me saying, miss, you are so very at ease about everything, but it is only three weeks until your wedding, and you have no bridal dress or new clothes or anything.’

So very at ease? That was amusing. Mariel must be a master of disguise if Penny thought her at ease. ‘I have many dresses. I’m sure to have enough to wear.’ She wanted no special bridal clothes. ‘If you like, tomorrow we can search for lace and trim to make one of my gowns more suitable for the ceremony.’

It was as good an excuse as any to be out and about again and Penny was a creative seamstress.

‘We could do that, miss,’ the maid agreed.

Coming from the shops on New Bond Street, they had meandered through Mayfair, passing by Grosvenor Square and the Rhedarium Gardens, but now they were within a short walk of the town house she shared with her parents.

If this wedding were not looming over her, she’d be happily anticipating summer months in their country house in Twickenham. She missed her younger sisters, although it was good they had not been old enough for the London Season and all the pressures it brought. At twenty-three, Mariel had seen many Seasons, had many proposals of marriage.

Only one mattered, though, but that proposal occurred when she’d been two years younger and foolish enough to believe in a man’s promises.

Foolish enough for a broken heart.

Luckily her powers of disguise had hidden the effect of that episode well enough. No one but her father ever knew about her secret betrothal. Or her heartbreak. She’d even trained herself not to think of it.

Mariel’s throat constricted as they reached the corner of Hereford Street. She dreaded entering the house, facing her mother’s unabashed joy at her impending marriage and her father’s palpable relief.

Her spirits sank lower and lower as she and Penny neared the end of the street.

When they were within steps of the town house, its door opened and a man emerged.

He turned towards them and the sun illuminated his face. ‘Mariel?’

She froze.

This man was the one person she thought never to see again, never wished to see again. He was the man to whom she’d been secretly betrothed, the man who had just inhabited her thoughts.

The man who had deserted her.

Leo Fitzmanning.

He was as tall as ever, his hair as dark, his eyes that same enthralling hazel. His face had become leaner these last two years, more angular with tiny lines creasing the corners of his eyes.

She straightened, hoping her ability to mask her emotions held strong.

‘Leo.’ She made her tone flat. ‘What a surprise.’

His thick dark brows knitted. ‘I—I have come from your father. I called upon him.’

‘My father?’ Her voice rose in pitch. ‘Why on earth would you wish to see my father?’ She had not even known Leo was in London.

He paused before closing the distance between them and his hazel eyes pleaded. ‘Will you walk with me?’

She glanced over at Penny, who was raptly attending this encounter. Mariel forced herself to face him again. ‘I can think of no reason why I should.’

He reached out and almost touched her. Even though his hand made no contact, she felt its heat. ‘Please, Mariel. Your father would not listen. I must speak with you. Not for my sake, but for yours.’

For her sake?

She ought to refuse. She ought to send him packing with a proper set-down. She ought to turn on her heel and walk into her house and leave him gaping in her wake.

Instead she said, ‘Very well. But be brief.’

He offered her his arm, but rather than accept it, she turned to Penny. ‘You must follow.’

Leo frowned. ‘I need to speak with you alone.’

Mariel lifted her chin. ‘Then speak softly so she does not hear, but do not ask me to go with you unchaperoned.’

He nodded.

They crossed Park Lane and entered Hyde Park through the Cumberland gate. The park was in its full glory, lush with greenery and flowers and chirping birds.

He led her to one of the footpaths. It was too early in the afternoon for London society to gather in carriages and on horseback for the fashionable hour. The footpath was empty. Once Mariel would have relished finding a quiet place where they could be private for a few moments. She would have pretended that nothing existed in the world but the two of them. This day, however, it made her feel vulnerable. She was glad Penny walked a few steps behind them.

Off the path was a bench, situated in an alcove surrounded by shrubbery, making it more secluded than the path itself.

Leo gestured to the bench. ‘Please, sit.’

‘No.’ Mariel checked to make certain Penny remained nearby. ‘Speak to me here and be done with it.’

He was so close she could smell the scent that was uniquely his, the scent that brought back too many memories. Of happy days when she’d contrived to meet Leo in this park. They’d strolled through its gardens and kindled their romance.

He faced her again and she became acutely aware of the rhythm of his breathing and of the tension in his muscles as he stood before her. ‘I will be blunt, because I have not time to speak with more delicacy.’

His tone surprised her.

‘Please do be blunt,’ she responded sarcastically.

She wanted to remain cold to him. She wanted not to care about anything he wished to say to her.

It was impossible.

Amidst the grass and shrubs and trees, his eyes turned green as he looked down on her. ‘You must not marry Lord Kellford.’

She was taken aback. ‘I am astonished you even know of my betrothal, let alone assume the right to speak of it.’

He averted his gaze for a moment. ‘I know I have no right. I tried to explain to your father, but he failed to appreciate the seriousness of the situation.’

She made a scornful laugh. ‘I assure you, my father takes this impending marriage very seriously. He is delighted at the match. Who would not be? Kellford is such a charming man.’

His eyes flashed. ‘Kellford’s charm is illusory.’

She lifted her chin. ‘Is it? Still, he meets my father’s approval.’

He riveted her with his gaze again. ‘I tried to tell him the man Kellford is. Your father would not listen, but you must.’

A frisson of anxiety prickled her spine. With difficulty, she remained steady. ‘If you have something to tell me about Kellford, say it now and be done with it.’

He glanced away. ‘Believe me. I never would have chosen to speak this to you—’

His words cut like a sabre. He preferred to avoid her? As if she’d not realised that already. He’d avoided her for two years.

She folded her arms across her chest and pretended she did not feel like weeping. ‘Tell me, so you do not have to stay a moment longer than is tolerable.’

His eyes darted back and flared with a heat she did not understand. ‘I will make it brief.’

Mariel’s patience wore thin. ‘Please do.’

His eyes pinned her once more. ‘What do you know of the Marquis de Sade?’

Was he changing the subject? ‘I do not know the Marquis de Sade. What has he to do with Kellford?’

He shifted. ‘You would not know him. And I suppose no gently bred young woman would have heard of him….’

‘Then why mention him?’ Why this roundaboutation? ‘Do you have a point to this?’

‘I dislike having to speak of it,’ he snapped.

Enough. She turned to walk away.

He caught her by the arm and pulled her back. Their gazes met and Mariel felt as if every nerve in her body had been set afire. She saw in his eyes that he, too, was affected by the touch.

He released her immediately. ‘The Marquis de Sade wrote many … books, which detailed scandalous acts, acts he is said to have engaged in himself.’

‘Scandalous acts?’ Where was this leading?

He nodded. ‘Between … between men and women.’ His eyes remained steady. ‘De Sade derived carnal pleasure from inflicting pain on women. It was his way of satisfying manly desires.’

Mariel’s cheeks burned. No man—not even Leo—had spoken to her of such matters before. ‘I do not understand.’

He went on. ‘For some men the pleasure that should come … in the normal way … only comes if they cause the woman pain.’

She’d heard that lovemaking—at least the first time—could be painful, but he didn’t seem to be talking about that. ‘What pain?’

He did not waver. ‘Some men use whips. Some burn with hot pokers. Others merely use their fists.’ His cheek twitched. ‘Sometimes the woman is bound by ropes or chains. Sometimes she is deprived of food or water.’

Her stomach roiled. ‘Why do you say this to me?’

His features twisted in pain. ‘Because Lord Kellford has boasted of such predilections. Because I have heard accounts about him. I have seen him use a whip—’

An icy wind swept through her. ‘That is the information you needed to give me?’

‘Yes.’ His voice deepened. ‘That is it.’

She glanced over at Penny, whose expression reflected the horror Mariel felt inside. Penny had heard it all.

Mariel had known Kellford to be a greedy, calculating man hiding behind a veneer of charm. Now she discovered he was depraved as well and that he would likely torture her. Hers would not merely be a wretched marriage, it would be a nightmare.

She turned from Leo and started to walk away.

Again he seized her, this time holding her with both his hands, making her face him, leaning down so he was inches from her face. ‘You cannot marry him, Mariel. You cannot!’

He released her and she backed away from him, shaking her head, anger rising inside her like molten lava.

It was easier to be angry, much easier than feeling terror and despair. She fed the anger, like one fed a funeral pyre.

Why had Leo saddled her with this appalling information? Did he think it a kind gesture? A worthy errand? Would he depart from this lovely park feeling all self-righteous and noble? Might he even pretend this atoned for disappearing from her life and breaking her heart?

He had walked away from her without a word, as if she’d been nothing to him, and now he burdened her with this?

She felt ready to explode.

‘Do you think you have helped me?’ Her voice shook.

He seemed taken aback. ‘Yes, of course. You can cry off. It is not too late.’

She gave him a scornful laugh. ‘I can cry off.’ Suddenly she advanced on him, coming so close she felt his breath on her face. ‘You understand nothing, Leo.’ Let him feel the impact of her wrath. ‘I have to marry Kellford. Do you hear me? I have no choice.’

She swung around and strode off.

‘What do you mean you have no choice?’ he called after her. ‘Mariel!’

She did not answer. She did not stop. She did not look back. She did not even look back to see if Penny followed. She rushed down the path and out of the park. Hurrying across Park Lane, she did not stop until she reached the door to her town house.

Out of breath, she leaned her forehead against the door and waited for Penny to catch up.

To herself she said, ‘I have no choice, Leo. No choice at all.’

Chapter Three

Leo watched Mariel flee from him. Seeing her had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Her ginger-coloured eyes fascinated him as much as they’d done two years before. His fingers still itched to touch the chestnut hair, peeking from beneath her bonnet. And her lips? It had been all he could do to not taste of them once again.

He thought he’d banished her image from his mind, but the full glory of her flooded back to him. Her eyes sparkling with delight. Her smile lighting up his very soul. Had that all been illusion? She certainly seemed to find his presence distasteful to her now. Had she merely been pretending all that time ago?

It was a question that had once kept him awake at night and consumed his days. Finally he’d pushed it aside so well he’d thought he’d forgotten. One glimpse of her brought everything back.

But his emotions were not at issue here. No matter her feelings towards him, she must not marry Kellford.

Her words still rang in his ears. I have to marry Kellford. Do you hear me? I have no choice.

What did she mean no choice? Had Kellford compromised her? Good God, had the man already forced himself on her?

All manner of circumstances came to Leo’s mind as he finally walked out of the park. He’d supposed this task relatively simple to discharge. Unpleasant, but simple. Merely call upon her father and warn him about Kellford and that would be the end of it. Cecil Covendale had not been pleased to see him; in fact, he’d been surly, as if he’d wished he could toss Leo out on his ear. Leo had minced no words. He’d explained precisely what Mariel faced if marrying Kellford. Covendale accused him of spreading falsehoods, ordered him to leave and never return.

Mariel had not assumed they were falsehoods, though. She’d believed him and still declared she must marry Kellford.

He must speak with her again, learn why she felt compelled to marry at all. She was only two years away from inheriting her fortune outright. It was madness for her to marry, let alone marry Kellford.

He crossed over to Hereford Street and glanced at Mariel’s town house as he passed. Perhaps he should knock on the door again and insist she see him right now.

No. Her father would forbid him admittance. Leo needed to find some place where he might catch her alone and off guard.

The problem was, she did not attend the sorts of places that he frequented of late. Gaming hells. Taverns. Dank and dismal rooms in the Rookerie with Walker and the shipping partners. Mariel attended society functions, called upon society friends. With his newly acquired reputation, Leo was on no one’s invitation list and would be an even more unwelcome caller.

He knew precisely how to rectify that problem, although it was a step he detested making. His brother Nicholas could get him invited anywhere. Who would refuse such a request of a duke? Nicholas would agree. As always, Nicholas would be delighted to help his bastard brother.

Leo walked the short distance to the ducal residence on Park Street. His knock was answered by a footman whom he did not recognise. The man’s brows rose.

‘Please tell his Grace his brother Leo desires a few moments of his time.’ Leo handed the man his hat and gloves.

‘I will see if his Grace is available.’ The footman gestured to the drawing room off the hall. ‘If you would care to wait …’

Leo strode into the drawing room, a room transformed from the gold-gilt furniture and rich brocades of his childhood into something warmer and more welcoming. The new duchess’s influence, no doubt. Too fired up to sit, he wandered the room, noticing that the clock and some of the porcelain figurines were relics from his childhood.

As children they had not stayed in the Mayfair residence often, so it always had been a special treat. It had also been a place Leo had not felt at ease. He used to think about all the dukes and duchesses who’d once graced these rooms, including Nicholas and Stephen’s mother. He wondered how she must have felt, knowing this house was sometimes occupied by her rival, Leo’s mother, and her illegitimate children.

The footman appeared in the doorway. ‘His Grace will see you now.’

Leo followed the man up the marble staircase to another more private drawing room, one where the girls had been allowed to practise the piano and where they all played at skittles.

Nicholas and his wife approached Leo as he entered the room.

‘Leo! I hope this means you have had a change of heart.’ Nicholas’s tone, as always, was welcoming.

Nicholas’s wife reached Leo first. It was evident she was expecting another child, news probably given to him the day before but not recalled.

‘It is so wonderful to see you!’ she cried, clasping his hands.

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Emily. You look as beautiful as ever.’ He glanced at her. ‘I hope you are feeling well.’

‘Very well, thank you.’ She smiled.

Nicholas’s expression turned serious. ‘Are you in any trouble? You know I will help you in any way I can.’

Leo resented the assumption. ‘No trouble. And if I were in trouble, I would not come running to my brothers.’

‘No, you never did,’ admitted Nicholas. ‘But we always found out, did we not? And were there to help.’

Nicholas would never know what Leo had faced in the last two years and how well he’d managed on his own, but he gave his brother a grudging nod.

Nicholas clapped his hands. ‘Then you have reconsidered our gift? Welbourne Manor is yours again for the asking. We can easily help you get back on your feet. Begin stocking your stables.’

Leo clamped his mouth shut lest he say something that would only lead to a shouting match.

Emily stepped in. ‘Nicholas, enough!’ She pulled at her husband’s arm. ‘Let us all sit down before you speak business.’ She turned to Leo. ‘We have tea. Let me pour you a cup.’

He lifted a hand. ‘Thank you, no tea for me.’

She carefully lowered herself on a sofa and Nicholas sat beside her. Leo chose a chair adjacent to them.

Nicholas started. ‘Why did you react to our plan as you did, Leo? You must know we are concerned about you. We would do anything for you.’

Leo stiffened. ‘Your concern is unfounded.’

‘But you disappeared for two years,’ Nicholas went on.

‘I wrote letters,’ Leo protested. ‘I kept you advised as to where I was.’

Nicholas shook his head. ‘You told us nothing about what you were doing, you must admit. Then stories of your activities reached us, increasing our worry for you—’

Leo held up a hand. ‘Those stories were greatly exaggerated, I am sure.’

He could agree that he had gone through a brief period of very heavy drinking, placing himself in dangerous situations from which he often had to resort to fisticuffs to escape. That period had been short-lived and he did not credit his heavy gambling as scandalous. All the other activities they could not know about.

Nicholas leaned forwards, worry lines appearing between his brows. ‘I know that much can happen when you travel to new lands.’ His duchess touched him and a look of understanding passed between them. ‘You can tell me if anything happened to distress you.’

Nicholas was speaking about himself, Leo realised. Was he harbouring secrets of his own? ‘Nicholas, believe me. Nothing of consequence happened to me.’

Meeting Walker had been important, of course, but the crucial event in his life had happened before his travels. He’d never spoken of his secret betrothal to his siblings and, if Mariel had disclosed it, surely his siblings would have smothered him with their commiserations and battered him with their advice.

Which would still be the case today if he shared the truth of why he’d come to beg a favour of his brother, the duke.

Both Nicholas and Emily continued to gaze at him with sympathetic disbelief.

Leo lifted a hand. ‘Stop looking at me like that! I did very well on my travels. It was a great adventure having no responsibilities. Quite freeing, in fact.’

Nicholas frowned. ‘But you cannot live your life that way. You must let us help you secure your future. The plan for Welbourne Manor is a good one, is it not?’

Leo scraped a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘Nick, I no longer wish to breed horses. I do not know how to convince you all of that fact.’ That dream had been too connected to Mariel for him to pursue it now, and too connected to his misguided wish for society’s acceptance.

‘I cannot believe it,’ Nicholas protested. ‘You’ve loved horses since you were out of leading strings.’

‘I still love horses.’ Leo shrugged. ‘I merely have no wish to breed them.’ There were better ways to gain wealth and success, he’d discovered. More exciting ways.

‘But—’ Nicholas started.

Leo held up a hand. ‘There is something I do need from you—’

His brother’s demeanour changed. ‘Anything, Leo. Anything.’

‘I want to re-enter society.’ How was he to put this? ‘I will eventually wish to mix with members of the ton and I want to counteract the gossip that apparently has preceded me.’ A bold-faced lie, of course.

This was a story Nicholas would believe, however.

‘Of course. Of course.’ Nicholas said. ‘What can we do?’

‘Take me along to society functions.’ Ones that Mariel would also attend, he meant. ‘I know I may not be welcome everywhere, but those where you think my presence would not be objectionable.’

Nicholas’s eyes flashed. ‘You are my brother. I dare say you’d better be accepted at any affair I condescend to attend.’

Nicholas would never accept the truth of Leo’s situation. Or that it no longer mattered to Leo whether society accepted him or not. Leo wanted nothing to do with people who judged others by birth alone. If it weren’t for needing access to Mariel, Leo would tell them all to go to the devil.

‘I would be grateful, Nick.’

Emily brightened. ‘Leo could accompany you to the ball tonight.’

‘Indeed!’ Nicholas clapped his hands. ‘Come here at nine and we will go together.’

‘Nine. I will be here.’ He rose. ‘I’ll take my leave of you now, however.’

‘No!’ cried Emily. ‘You have only just arrived. You must stay for dinner.’

Too many hours away. ‘I cannot, but I appreciate the invitation.’

Nicholas helped Emily to her feet and she embraced Leo. ‘Please know you are welcome in our house any time.’

Her sincerity touched him deeply. ‘Thank you.’

Nicholas clapped him on the back. ‘I will walk you to the door.’

It seemed an odd thing for a duke to do.

As they descended the staircase, Nicholas said, ‘I am delighted that you asked for my help. I am very glad to give it.’

Leo felt a pang of guilt for so resenting what was offered him out of such brotherly affection.

‘Do you have suitable clothes?’ Nicholas asked. ‘I’m sure I can fix it if you do not.’

If only such loving offerings were not so insulting. ‘I have formal clothing,’ he managed through gritted teeth. ‘Where is this ball tonight, may I ask?’

‘Lord Ashworth’s,’ Nicholas responded. ‘Do you remember him?’

Ashworth’s. Why did that irony not amuse him?

‘I remember him.’

That evening as Leo and Nicholas stepped up to the doorway of the Ashworth ballroom, waiting to be announced, Leo immediately scanned the crowd, looking for Mariel.

Nicholas whispered to the Ashworth butler, who then announced, ‘The Duke of Manning and Mr Leo Fitzmanning.’

The buzz of conversation ceased for a moment and all eyes turned their way. Leo supposed the silence was not merely the deference due a duke, but the shock at seeing the duke’s bastard brother at his side.

Ashworth, whose girth had thickened since his youth, immediately stepped forwards from where he’d been standing to receive guests. ‘Your Grace, how delightful you were able to come.’

A pretty young woman who’d been standing next to Ashworth also approached Nicholas. ‘I do hope the duchess is well, your Grace.’

‘Very well, Lady Ashworth,’ Nicholas replied. ‘Simply not up to the rigours of a ball.’

Ashworth had married someone else, obviously.

Nicholas turned as if to present Leo, but Ashworth had already seized his hand. ‘Leo! How delighted I am to see you!’ The man pumped his arm enthusiastically. ‘It has been an age and you have been abroad!’

Before Leo could form a response, Ashworth put an arm around his shoulder and brought him over to his wife. ‘Pamela! Here is my dear friend!’ It was kind of Ashworth to characterise him as such. ‘May I present to you Leo Fitzmanning.’

Leo bowed. ‘I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Ashworth.’

This woman, who might have been Mariel had events transpired as Leo thought they would, was a pretty doll-like creature who appeared as soft and affable as Ashworth himself.

‘Mr Fitzmanning. How nice you could come.’ Her words seemed as genuine as her husband’s and in her expression there was no hint of censure for attending without an invitation.

At that moment other guests were announced and Leo left his host and hostess to their greeting tasks. Nicholas had been commandeered by some gentlemen now surrounding him, so Leo felt free to search for Mariel.

He moved through the crush of guests, nodding to those people who acknowledged him, noticing those who avoided looking his way. Though no one dared risk offending his brother by giving Leo the cut direct, he was aware of whispers about him in his wake.

The room was ablaze with candles and decorated with huge jardinières of flowers. Richly upholstered sofas and chairs were set against the walls and grouped for conversation. It had been a long time since he’d wandered through a Mayfair ballroom. Nothing had changed.

Except him.

In his travels he’d wandered through the worst parts of cities, the poorest parts, and often found people living with more dignity than some of these glittering guests, so quick to judge and disdain.

He heard a squeal. A rush of pink silk caught the corner of his eye.

His sister Charlotte advanced on him. ‘Leo! You are here! I could not believe my eyes.’ She seized his arm and dragged him with her. ‘Come say hello to Drew. Justine and Brenner are here, too. Isn’t it lovely?’

He had to admit it felt gratifying to be greeted with even more enthusiasm than Ashworth had shown. He received a brotherly embrace from Charlotte’s husband, Drew, whom he’d known practically their whole lives, and answered Drew’s many questions regarding his health, when he’d arrived, where he’d travelled from, why they had not seen him sooner.

Charlotte interrupted. ‘Oh! Here is someone else you know, Leo. You must say hello.’ She tugged him away from her husband.

And brought him face to face with Mariel.

Her dress was a deep-rose silk and a dark blue sash was tied at her waist. Matching blue ribbons adorned her hair, which was swept atop her head with curls framing her face. She was so lovely she seemed unreal.

She was obviously not delighted to see him, but even less delighted was the man at her side.

Lord Kellford.

Leo bowed. ‘Miss Covendale.’

‘Miss Covendale?’ Charlotte cried. ‘Since when do you call Mariel Miss Covendale?’

He shot Charlotte what he hoped was a dampening look. ‘Since I am at a formal ball.’ He turned back to Kellford and gave him a curt nod. ‘Kellford.’

Kellford responded in kind. ‘Fitzmanning.’

Mariel’s eyes pleaded with him, as if she feared he would blurt out their long-held secrets. Did she think he would retaliate for her having spurned him? In any event, he was fairly certain she would not willingly speak to him privately, even if he could manage it.

Making matters worse, Mariel’s father approached and on a flimsy pretext hustled her away. Leo turned back to Drew, asking him how his sister and nephew fared and about their estate, and pretending the brief exchange with Mariel meant nothing to him. A few moments later, Justine and Brenner appeared and were delighted to see him. He was soon enveloped by family, who remained near him the entire night, an armour he did not need. He could stand on his own anywhere, especially in the superficial gaiety of a Mayfair ballroom.

Kellford rarely left Mariel’s side; Leo was beginning to despair of ever catching her alone.

Watching her altered something inside him, Leo had to admit. It would take some effort to turn his emotions to stone again. Still, he would never allow himself to be vulnerable to her smiles and promises. He must question, though, why he cared so much to discover why she must marry Kellford. And why he felt determined to prevent it.

He no longer believed he was merely playing the Good Samaritan.

Finally he spied her saying something to Kellford. She managed to walk away and leave the ballroom alone. Leo made an excuse to his family and followed her, taking care not to look obvious. He guessed she was bound for the ladies’ retiring room, otherwise why would Kellford have let her go?

Catching a glimpse of her entering the room as another lady left, Leo retreated to a discreet corner where no one would notice him.

It seemed a great deal of time passed before she emerged again. Had she delayed on purpose to enjoy being free of her constant escort?

Leo quickly stepped from the shadows and seized her arm, pulling her out of sight of prying eyes.

‘Leo! Let me go,’ she whispered, trying to twist away.

He released her, but blocked her way back to the ballroom. ‘Give me a moment.’

Her eyes darted. ‘Someone will see us.’

‘A moment,’ he implored. ‘Tell me the reason you feel you must marry. I’ll fix it for you. Let me help you.’

Her face flushed with anger. ‘You will fix it? Do not make me laugh, Leo. You have no right to even speak to me now.’

‘I have no right?’ he answered hotly. ‘Because of the choice you made two years ago?’

‘A choice I made?’ Her brows knit in confusion.

‘To marry Ashworth …’ Leo had not wanted to pursue this matter.

‘Marry Ashworth?’ She gave a scornful laugh. ‘Well, I obviously did not marry Ashworth. If I had, I would not be in this fix.’

It brought him back to the task at hand. ‘Never mind. Tell me why you must marry Kellford.’

She stood so near his arms ached to hold her again. He leaned closer, suddenly helpless against the need to taste her lips and recapture some of the youthful joy they’d shared.

Her eyes rose to his and her pupils widened. For a moment she did not move. He leaned closer.

‘Leo,’ she whispered, then pushed him aside. ‘What does it matter? Move away. I must return to my charade.’

Her charade. She did not wish to marry Kellford, that was clear. And, like it or not, Leo had made the choice to help her. He’d not back out now.

At the moment, though, he could only watch her hurry back to the ballroom.

At the end of the evening as Leo rode back to the ducal town house with Nicholas, he asked, ‘What event will everyone attend tomorrow night?’

‘A party at Vauxhall Gardens hosted by Lord and Lady Elkins.’ His brother stifled a yawn. ‘But I will not attend. I prefer to stay home with Emily.’ He glanced at Leo. ‘Would you like to go in my stead? I can arrange that.’

‘I would indeed.’

Anything was possible at Vauxhall Gardens.

Chapter Four

‘Vauxhall Gardens?’ Walker’s brows rose.

‘That is correct.’ Leo opened a cabinet in his sitting room and pulled out a decanter of brandy. He poured himself a glass. ‘I’ll need a domino and a mask. Do you know where you might get one?’

The valet shrugged. ‘I will find one, but what is this? A card game at Vauxhall Gardens?’

Leo lifted an empty glass in an invitation to pour some for Walker. ‘Not precisely. It is a society event.’

Walker shook his head. ‘Another society event? This is a change for you. May I ask why?’

Leo frowned, an image of Mariel flying into his mind, as well as one of Kellford brandishing a whip.

Walker’s expression turned to one of concern.

‘What is it, Fitz?’

Walker only acted the role of valet, which accounted for his plain speaking and familiar address. Few gentlemen—or servants, for that matter—would understand the sense of equality between the two men, born of mutual respect and one life-changing experience. Leo had fed Walker’s thirst to better himself, teaching Walker to read and to speak like an educated man. Walker had shown Leo the skills he’d acquired to survive the Rookerie and provided the contacts that would make their present venture profitable. There was little they did not know about each other’s lives.

Still, Leo had never told Walker about Mariel. His feelings for Mariel were a secret locked so deep inside him he did not know if he could ever dislodge them.

Walker’s brows knit. ‘Is this what your family asked of you? That you must rejoin society and attend its entertainments? And you are doing it?’

‘No.’ Leo lifted the glass of brandy to his lips. ‘Although no doubt my family would be delighted by it. You know my opinion of society.’ On the Continent he had learned that he needed only his wits and his courage to make money.

‘Then what is this?’ Walker circled with his finger. ‘Why this visage of life and death, then? It must be more than some new scheme. If you are in trouble, you should let me in on it, you know.’

Leo smiled inside at the way the word visage dropped so easily off Walker’s tongue. As did Walker’s willingness to help, somewhat reminiscent of Nicholas’s.

Leo took a sip of his brandy. He needed Walker’s help, he was certain of that, and Walker was not as easy to fool as Nick. He was also not one to follow orders without an explanation. Walker had freed himself from blind adherence to orders.

Leo must stick close to the truth, but he had no intention of exposing what was still painfully raw.

‘Do you recall Lord Kellford?’ he finally asked.

Walker made a disgusted sound. ‘The lout with the whip?’

‘Precisely.’ Leo lowered himself into one of the chairs. ‘He is set to marry an … old family friend and I am determined to stop it. There is a masquerade party at Vauxhall tonight which I suspect he will attend. As will the lady.’

Walker stared at him and Leo had the distinct feeling the man was trying to decipher what Leo left unsaid. ‘Does the lady know what he is?’

‘I told her.’ Leo tried to appear dispassionate. ‘She insists she must marry him. I would like to discover why, what hold he has over her and then stop him.’ Beneath his prosaic tone was a swirl of painful emotions. He took another sip of brandy. ‘I shall see what I can discover as a guest at this Vauxhall affair. My brother will arrange my invitation.’

Walker sat in an adjacent chair. ‘Then perhaps I can discover something from a different end. Shall I try to befriend some of his servants? See what they know?’

This was why Leo valued his valet-friend so much. Walker did not wait to be ordered about; he just acted.

‘An excellent idea.’ Leo smiled. ‘After you find me a domino, that is.’

The music from Vauxhall reached Leo’s ears just as the pleasure garden’s entrance came into sight. Nicholas had insisted on providing the ducal carriage, and, if anyone witnessed it, Leo supposed arriving in such style could do nothing but help his acceptance as his brother’s substitute.

As he moved through the garden’s entrance, his domino billowed in the night’s breeze and gathered between his legs, impeding his gait.

There could not be a sillier garment for a man, lots of black fabric fashioned into a hooded cloak, the accepted male costume for a masquerade. Once Leo put on his mask, the costume had advantages. No one would know who he was. He would be able to remain near Mariel without anyone suspecting his identity.

He knew she would attend. Before walking to his brother’s house and donning his domino, he’d concealed himself near the Covendale town house and watched as Mariel and her parents climbed into Kellford’s carriage. The evening remained light enough that Leo was able to clearly see her costume. Her dark green dress clung to her figure from neckline to hips. Gold-braid trim adorned the low square neckline and the long trumpet sleeves. Over the gown, she wore a matching hooded cape. How ironic she would dress as a medieval maiden, the quintessential damsel in distress.

Kellford, on the other hand, had exerted as much imagination as Leo. He, too, wore a black domino.

Leo hurried down the South Walk. Tall, stately elms shaded the area with its booths and the supper boxes. Ahead of him at some distance, Leo spied three triumphal arches and a painting of the Ruins of Palmyra so realistic it fooled many people into believing it was real. The three supper boxes reserved for the party hosted by Lord and Lady Elkins were located just before the arches.

His domino caught between his legs again and he slowed his pace, taking more notice of the gardens which seemed to show some tarnish since he’d last seen them. Or perhaps it was he who was tarnished.

He remembered his first look at Vauxhall, when still a schoolboy, the night his father and mother hosted a masquerade. He and his brothers had been allowed to attend until darkness fell and the drinking and carousing began in earnest.

A wave of grief washed over him. His parents had been blissfully happy, as scandalous as their liaison had been. They’d looked magnificent that night, costumed in powdered hair and shiny, colourful brocades, the fashionable dress of the last century. Surrounded by their equally scandalous friends and those few respectable ones who were loyal no matter what, they had been in their element. No one had enjoyed the pleasures and entertainments life had to offer better than his mother and father.

Perhaps they had enjoyed a masquerade in Venice before contracting the fever that killed them.

As Leo neared the supper boxes, so close to the ones his parents had secured that night, he stopped to put on his mask. He presented his invitation to the footman at the entrance. Because it was a masquerade, no guests were announced and Leo could slip into the crowd in perfect anonymity.

Almost immediately he found his sister Charlotte, dressed as a shepherdess, but he did not reveal himself to her. No, this night he’d take advantage of his disguise. He walked through the crush of people, searching for Mariel.

Finally the crowd parted, revealing her, as if gates had opened to display a treasure. Her hood and cape hung behind her shoulders. Her headdress was a roll of gold cloth, worn like a crown. She looked like a queen from a bygone age. He savoured the sight of her before moving closer.

He had no difficulty spotting Kellford or Mariel’s parents, or the fact that Mariel was edging away from them. He stepped forwards to help her, deliberately pushing his way between her and Kellford and remaining in Kellford’s way.

His ploy worked. She hurried away from them and let the crowd swallow her. Leo waited a moment before following her, confident he could find her no matter how many people obscured his view.

He was correct.

Darkness was falling fast, but he was able to glimpse her making her way out of the supper box. She covered her head with her hood and hurried towards the large gazebo in the centre of the gardens. The orchestra was still playing on its balcony, high above the area where guests danced to the music.

He continued, walking quickly, puzzled at what she was about. It was not safe for her to leave the protection of the supper boxes. In addition to revellers, Vauxhall Gardens attracted pickpockets and other rogues and miscreants who combed the gardens searching for easy prey.

She weaved her way around the dancers until she was on the other side of the gardens near the Grand Walk. She made her way to one of the trees that bordered the area and leaned against it.

He slowed his pace and stopped a few feet from her. ‘Mariel?’

She started and then gave him a careful look. ‘Leo.’ Her tone was flat. Obviously his mask had not disguised him from her.

He came closer. ‘It is not safe to walk alone here.’

‘Indeed?’ She lifted one shoulder. ‘Do you not think walking alone is preferable to remaining on Kellford’s arm? I confess, I do.’

He scowled. ‘Is that why you ran off? To get away from him?’

She made a disparaging sound. ‘Were you watching me, Leo?’

‘I came in hopes of speaking with you,’ he admitted.

She turned away to face the dancers twirling and gliding like fairies in a dream. ‘We can have nothing to say to each other.’

‘I need to know—’

She stopped him from speaking, putting her hand on his arm and moving to the other side of the tree.

‘What is it?’ He glanced around.

She gestured with her chin. ‘Kellford is looking for me.’

Leo caught sight of him, perusing the crowd, moving closer to where they stood.

He grasped her arm. ‘Let us make you more difficult to spot.’ He pulled her into the crowd of dancers.

The orchestra played a French waltz and the dancers had formed two circles, one inside the other. Leo led Mariel to the inner circle. He placed his hands on her waist; her hands rested on his shoulders. Their eyes met and locked together as they twirled with the circle of dancers. The sky grew darker by the minute and everything and everyone surrounding them blurred.

Leo only saw Mariel.

Her face remained sombre, as did his own, he imagined. Did she feel the same emotions that were coursing through him? Savouring. Yearning. Regretting.

How different their lives would have been had his parents been respectably married. Had there been no fire. They would have married. Had children. Built a prosperous stud farm together. Had a lovely life.

What foolish fancy. He’d learned early that it was no use to wish for what one could not change.

The orchestra stopped playing and a violinist began playing a solo. Some of the dancers stopped to listen; the others made their way back to their boxes or to the booths selling food and wine.

Mariel averted her gaze. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue, Leo. Another good deed you have performed.’

She sounded despairing and he ached for her.

He searched for Kellford and no longer saw him. ‘Walk with me.’ He extended his hand.

Mariel hesitated. She should never have danced with him, even if it meant being discovered by Kellford.

Oh, she was full of foolishness this night. She’d so abhorred Kellford’s presence being forced on her in this beautiful place of fantasy and romance that she’d impulsively run from him.

Perhaps she had sensed Leo nearby, because she was not entirely surprised when he appeared in front of her. It has been foolish indeed to dance with him, to swirl to the sensual melody, to lose herself in Leo’s warm hazel eyes, his gaze more piercing framed by his mask.

No, she should not walk with him. She must be sensible.

But his fingers beckoned. ‘Please, Mariel?’

She glanced around, wondering what would happen if Kellford found her, especially with another man. Mariel had sensed the falseness of Kellford’s gallantry even before Leo told her of the man’s perversions. His actions towards her might speak to others of a solicitous lover, but Mariel had known all along that all he wanted was her money. His solicitousness was merely a means to control her every move.

She’d been clever enough to escape him this night. She’d find some excuse to offer him for disappearing from his side.

If only she could think of some way to rid herself of him entirely.

She stared at Leo’s extended hand, temptation itself.

Before she knew it, she’d placed her hand in his and felt his warmth and strength through her glove. ‘Do not take me back to the supper box.’

He nodded.

They stepped onto the gravel of the Grand Walk and, like so many other couples, strolled to the fountain. Beyond the fountain the paths led through trees as thick as a forest. The Dark Walk, they called it, a place where lovers could disappear and indulge in intimacies forbidden in the light.

They entered the Dark Walk and walked past the illusionist making cards appear and disappear at will. They continued and soon the darkness of a moonless night surrounded them. Then, all at once, the thousands of gas lamps strung throughout in the trees were lit and the night blazed with light.

Mariel gasped. It was as if they’d been lifted to the stars. She glanced at Leo and saw the wonder of the sight reflected in his eyes, as well. It had always been like this between them. An instant understanding. Conversing without needing to use words.

To be so close to him again made it seem as if no time had passed, as if they were still young and full of optimism, eager to lose themselves in the Dark Walk. In those days he would have pulled her into the privacy of the trees. He would have placed his lips on hers and she would have soared to the stars with happiness.

She shook herself. They were no longer young and full of optimism. They were no longer in love.

They came upon an area almost as private as in her imagination, a bench set in among the shrubbery, almost completely concealed from the path itself.

‘Shall we sit a moment?’ he asked.

She should resist the temptation of him, not succumb to old fantasies. She’d grown out of them. He’d forced her out of them.

Still, she sat.

They removed their masks, but did not speak.

Finally he broke their silence. ‘Tell me now why you must marry Kellford.’

She stiffened. Why did he persist in asking her this? She could not confide in him.

‘Because I will help you.’ He seemed to answer her very thoughts. ‘But I must know the problem.’

She turned away from him, not wanting to believe in him again. How could she?

But he persisted. ‘What hold does Kellford have over you? Has he compromised you?’

She swung back. ‘Compromised me!’ The thought was appalling.

‘Has he forced himself on you? Is that why?’ He blanched. ‘Good God. Has he gotten you—?’

‘No!’ She held up a hand. ‘Do not insult me. Do you think I would tolerate his touch?’

His expression turned grim. ‘I think him quite capable of forcing himself on you. If it is not that, then tell me what it is. You said you must marry him. Tell me the reason.’

Her anger flared. ‘I cannot tell you, Leo. You know I cannot.’

‘Whatever it is, I can help you.’ His gaze remained steady. ‘I have ways.’

This was so much like the Leo she once knew, the young man who believed they could create a bright future together. She wanted to shake her head lest he be an apparition.

But she could not let him hurt her again. Trust in him? Impossible. ‘You once made promises to me, Leo. We both know what happened to those promises.’

He was opening the old wounds, wounds she’d been able to ignore even if they’d never healed.

‘Mariel.’ His voice turned tight. ‘You broke those promises.’

‘I broke them?’ It had been devastation when she’d heard nothing from him. ‘You left me!’

‘What did you expect? You were marrying Ashworth. You chose a title over a bastard. What happened to that plan, by the way?’

‘Ashworth again. Why do you persist in saying I would marry Ashworth? I was betrothed to you.’ She felt as if she were bleeding inside once again.

‘Your father—’ he began, but did not finish.

The blood drained from her face. Had her father sent Leo away? ‘Do you mean you spoke to my father?’

‘You know I did. You set the appointment.’ He clenched his jaw. ‘Surely you have not forgotten that we planned for me to speak with your father. He told me you had chosen Ashworth.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You never kept that appointment. I assumed it was because of the fire. My father said you didn’t keep it.’

‘Your father said that?’ A look of realisation came over his face.

Her father. She felt the blood drain from her. Her father had been manipulating her even then. ‘Tell me what my father said to you.’

‘That you chose Ashworth over me, because I was a bastard with nothing to offer you. Since my stables had just burned down, he was essentially correct.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Were you at Ashworth’s estate that day?’

‘At Ashworth’s estate?’ She felt cold inside. ‘No. I was in Bath. With my mother. She wanted to take the waters.’

They sat close to each other, so close their faces were inches apart. She could see the shadow of a beard on his chin, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the shadows within him that spoke of his own pain.

‘He told me you chose Ashworth because of his title,’ he went on, speaking as much to himself as to her. ‘Because he was respectable.’

She almost weakened, almost transferred her anger to her father, who owned plenty of it already. But Leo was not wholly innocent in this.

She lifted her chin. ‘You believed those things mattered to me? Titles and such? Is that what you thought of me? Why did you not speak with me yourself, Leo? You left without a word. Without a word. At first I thought it was because of the fire, but even then it shocked me that you would not come to me so we could plan what to do together. It took me months and months to realise that you had no intention of returning to me.’ She felt as if she were bleeding inside.

His face turned stony, but she sensed turbulent emotions inside him. ‘I was convinced you did not want me.’

‘You were easily convinced, apparently. Did you think so little of me, Leo?’ She slid away from him and crossed her arms over her chest as if this would protect her heart. ‘Even if you thought all that nonsense about Ashworth was true, you did not try to fight for me, did you? Or try to make me change my mind? You never gave me a chance. You just took it upon yourself to run off.’

Her words wounded him, she could tell by his face, but they were true.

He spoke quietly. ‘I am not running away now. I want to help you.’

She desperately wanted help, but not from him. The pain of his leaving her still hurt too much.

Her own father had manoeuvred the situation, true—she must deal with that later—but it was Leo who’d chosen to leave.

She stood and tied her mask back on. ‘I want to go back.’

He rose and donned his mask, as well.

They entered the crosswalk that led back to the other side of the gardens. She took long deep breaths, trying to calm herself lest tears dampen her mask and give away her emotions. The closer they came to the supper boxes, the more she cringed at having to return to Kellford’s side and to pretend to her father that he had not set about the destruction of her happiness two years before this. At the moment, though, it was worse to be with Leo. She was enraged at him—and perilously close to falling into his arms.

He’d held her many times when they’d discussed marrying, when they declared their love, said they would overcome all obstacles together.

She remembered when she’d learned his stables had burned down and most of his horses were lost. She’d read it in the newspapers. When her father told her Leo never showed up for his appointment, she’d imagined it had been because of the fire. She waited and waited until days stretched into weeks and weeks into months. She waited even after learning Leo had left the country. He would send for her, she’d thought.

But he never did.

He’d promised he would marry her, and now he promised he would find a way to prevent her marriage. It was too late to believe in him. It hurt too much to be wrong.

She walked at his side, not touching him, her cape wrapped around her like a shield against him.

One good thing about his sudden appearance in her life was she now felt roused to battle harder against this forced marriage. She did not need him for it. All she needed was to remain single for two more years and her inheritance would be hers, free and clear. No man could use it to rule her life. No man could keep her from protecting her mother and sisters.

Her father told her he owed Kellford a large gambling debt, one so large that their family would be ruined if he did not pay. Apparently Mariel was payment of the debt. Or rather, her fortune was. How much of that was a lie, like the lies he told her about Leo? She wanted the truth.

Then she would know what to do.

It was a start. A plan. And her time was better spent dwelling on how to escape this dreadful marriage than on fantasies and regrets about Leo Fitzmanning.

They reached the arches; the supper boxes were just on the other side.

‘Do not remain with me,’ she demanded of Leo.

He seized her arm before she could leave him. ‘I cannot let you go until you tell me what hold Kellford has over you.’

This was becoming tedious. Why not tell him? Perhaps he would leave her alone if she did.

She turned so she could look directly into his eyes. ‘Kellford threatens my family. He has the power to ruin my father, my mother, my sisters.’ She spoke the words slowly so he would not miss their importance.

‘Mariel—’ he began.

‘No more promises!’ She pulled out of his grip. ‘Do not stop me again, Leo. This time I am the one who is leaving. Right now.’

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