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As Alistair straightened his jacket sleeves, Thorne stepped forward. “Good to see ye, Demon.” He offered the other man his hand. “Thank ye for coming.”

“Like I had a cantankerous bungleshite of a choice,” the other man grumbled. “I hate the south. I hate England. I hate London.”

“I ken,” Thorne cheerfully announced. “And it hates ye. Welcome back, Duchess.”

Demon’s pretty wife mock-shuddered. “Georgia will do. But please, who is this?” She held out her hand to Olivia, beaming sweetly.

For the first time, Alistair realized how difficult this might be for Olivia. Meeting a duke and duchess must be intimidating.

So why are ye no’ nervous? Ye’ve avoided Society all these years, then willingly invite some of the highest members into yer house?

Before he could answer that, Olivia stepped forward. She might be nervous, but she wouldn’t be Olivia if she didn’t meet the challenge head-on. “I’m Olivia,” she announced boldly.

“Alistair’s wife,” Thorne was quick to interject, by way of explanation.

As Lickwick’s wife gasped happily and held out her arms, giving every intention of preparing to hug Olivia, Alistair’s wife dipped into a curtsey.

“Oh no!” The Duchess caught her arm and lifted her with a smile. “You are the Duchess of Effinghell, you only curtsey to royalty. Do you not realize the power your husband wields?”

Judging from Olivia’s confusion, she did not.

“But…but you’re a duchess, too, Your Grace.”

The other woman grinned. “Which makes us equals. Call me Georgia—I find that I am happier being informal. I like being a duchess no more than my husband likes being a duke.”

Olivia beamed. “Then you must call me Olivia.”

“I would be delighted.”

As the two women embraced, Thorne clapped his hands. “Excellent, that’s that out of the way. Demon, this is Alistair. I’m calling ye Alistair from now on, Alistair, just deal with it.”

Alistair raised a brow.

“Alistair, this is Demon, the new Duke of Lickwick. Demon, Alistair doesnae speak, just get used to it. Except apparently sometimes he does. Dinnae ask me the rules, it’s all new to me. Sit down, we have a hell of a lot to discuss.”

Demon threw himself down on one of the sofas and pulled his wife up next to him. Alistair watched the gruff man’s gentle touches, saw Georgia’s loving smile, and knew this couple had been lucky enough to make a love match. God knew how. There’d been gossip circulating about both of them at the beginning of the year, but Alistair hadn’t paid any attention to it. He’d have to ask his sisters for the details.

“Let’s get to it, then.” Demon demanded.

Thorne gestured to Olivia, who took her time finding a seat and composing herself. Once she had, Alistair chose the seat beside her. While he didn’t haul her up against him, he did offer her his hand, which she grasped like a lifeline.

Watching them, Georgia smiled softly. “I see we are not the only happy couple in the room.” She shot Thorne a wry glance. “When will you be getting married, friend?”

To Alistair’s surprise, something like longing flashed across Thorne’s expression, before he hid it by turning away and clearing his throat. “Where’s yer whisky, Alistair? Ye must have some hidden somewhere, aye?” He didn’t need Alistair to point, but rather found the drinks trolley on his own. “Anyone else want one? This is likely to get involved.”

“Why in the gooey turdgoblins are we here?” Demon growled. “Yer note said it was about a plan to trap Blackrose. Where’s Rourke and Calderbank? And how did Effinghell get involved?”

Thorne answered the first question. “Calderbank said he’d join us if we need him, but for now he has to focus on his new family. And his new role.”

“Why?” Demon barked. “Suddenly inheriting a dukedom by surprise is easy.”

Smiling fondly, Georgia patted his thigh. “Yes, dear, but the Lickwick holdings were extinct and the title is in name only. You did not have to actually do anything, more than usual. Mr. Calderbank suddenly had a complete dukedom drop in his lap.”

Her husband chuckled. “Puir bastard.”

Alistair had to agree. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“Aright,” Demon finally conceded, “But how are ye involved in all this, Effinghell? Dinnae tell me ye were one of Blackrose’s agents we never kenned about? Swear to Christ, the bastards are just coming out of the woodwork.“