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H is Grace of Drimmen, finding himself in the very unfamiliar territory of being lectured by a female, quietly, reasonably, and sensibly, recognized a master of the art of diplomatic persuasion—with, admittedly, a sharp edge reserved just for him.

Worse, he didn’t even mind. His smile was one of awe and admiration and not a little amusement, though whether the last was directed at her or himself, he wasn’t quite sure.

He was disappointed when her eyes—which were extraordinarily beautiful—dropped from his, although he rather liked that he had flustered her.

After all, in a very short space of time, she had already driven him from desire to liking to acute dislike and suspicion…and whatever this was now. Some mixture of all of them.

She was Lord Linfield’s sister and had traveled with him on all his diplomatic missions until this one.

She was nobody’s fool. In fact, her actions concerning Joe had been the best anyone who loved the wretched boy could possibly have done in the circumstances.

She had given everyone a way out, with honor.

“I would suggest,” she was saying now to Joe and Jenny, “that there is no need to rush across the border to be married, or to sneak around meeting clandestinely. You will see each other every day, go to Blackhaven assemblies, if you choose, and enjoy the company and the scenery around you. And there is no need for Jenny to be ruined.”

An uneasy memory swam up into Drimmen’s mind. “Ah.”

They all looked at him.

“What have you done?” Joe asked with quite unreasonable suspicion.

“I? Nothing recently, except tear up the country in search of you. What have you done to be riling Herbert Bandy?”

“Who the devil is Herbert Bandy?” Joe demanded.

“The man you would have punched had Jenny not been hanging on to your fist like an extremely useful limpet.”

Joe’s face darkened. “He insulted Jenny. And he stank.”

“So do you when you’ve been drinking and smoking and playing cards all night,” Drimmen said unkindly.

Joe glared at him. “I have never insulted Jenny or any other woman, whatever my state.”

“That, I will allow.”

Miss Talbot said ruefully, “I suspect those two just fell out of the Gaming Club at the wrong time. The club is only held here once every month or two, though I have never known it go on so far into the following morning. Why are these men such a problem?”

“Because Bandy knows me,” Drimmen said. “Many years ago, I showed him up for cheating and was responsible for his being blackballed from his London club. And from most of the hells. I hadn’t seen him for more than a decade until this morning.”

“I didn’t know you were a gambler,” Joe said.

Drimmen shrugged. “Only socially, so to speak. But I was not always staid and middle-aged. I too was once the heir to the dukedom with too much money and temptation and rebellion in my heart.”

Joe met his gaze, surprised but searching. Adjusting, perhaps. Certainly, he made none of the flippant comments or cutting remarks that Drimmen more than half expected. “How did you grow up ?”

Drimmen smiled crookedly. “Gradually.”

Whatever Joe made of that, Drimmen was aware of Miss Talbot’s curious gaze upon him.

It was Jenny who called them back to the matter at hand. “You are saying this Bandy bears a grudge against you and overheard enough this morning for him to be able to upset our new plan?”

“You should have let me hit him,” Joe said savagely. “He’d have called me out and then I could have killed him.”

“And hanged for it,” Jenny retorted.

Joe subsided, which took Drimmen by surprise. Though why, he didn’t know. Jenny had always been a sensible little thing. And she clearly knew how to manage Joe, even in a temper.

He caught Miss Talbot’s perceptive gaze on him, and she reached hastily for her coffee cup.

He began to suspect what she was up to. It would make no difference, of course, but she had come up with the best plan available to them in the short term. Joe was clearly inclined to go along with it. And Bandy… Well, what kind of a threat was he to the Duke of Drimmen?

*

His Grace might not have been quite so dismissive had he been privileged to hear Herbert Bandy’s conversation taking place at the same time in the Black Tavern.

This was a low drinking hole worthy of the worst in London’s back streets.

Its most respectable patrons were the sailors on leave who did little worse than indulge in occasional drunken brawls.

Bandy had learned to avoid those at about the same time he’d deterred pickpockets by taking no more than the price of a couple of brandies with him.

More gradually, he had become aware—through the whore who lived in one of the rooms above the tavern—that one could buy most kind of villainy there, too. No one asked questions. You just paid and played. As it were.

Bloody Drimmen . Was it not enough that the sanctimonious, overprivileged puppy had ruined his life? He must turn up here too? Quite destroying Bandy’s own pleasure in ruining Hal Cricket at the tables last night in a positively masterful performance.

He had gone back to his lodgings only long enough to hide his winnings.

Taking a mere few coins with him, he set off again immediately to the tavern, where he stared gloomily into his disgusting ale—a pity his stomach was not up to any more brandy before he slept.

But he needed to exorcise Drimmen from his thoughts before he could even think of rest.

Bandy had had a pretty good life on the fringes of Society before that bastard had taken it all from him.

He’d had friends among the ton , a pretty mistress, and a good chance at an heiress.

Until Drimmen spoke the word “cheat.” Bandy conveniently forgot sometimes that Drimmen was right, that several people had been next to ruined through his cheating, one of the fools even taking his own life.

That was not his fault. Drimmen could have spoken to him man-to-man, given him a chance, but no, the great duke had made everything public, had him thrown out of his clubs, barred from all but the more dangerous hells.

His mistress stopped being available and his heiress married another.

Bandy had had no option but to leave town and, eventually, settle in this backwater—which, much to his delight, was becoming much like a miniature London, especially during the summer season.

Heiresses were again within reach, as were some high-stakes tables.

But again, here was bloody Drimmen, as haughty and superior as ever.

No doubt that ragged little bit of muslin was his.

The mean bastard should be ashamed of himself.

Which was all very self-righteous. But Bandy did not care about scoring points off his old enemy. Or even whatever scandal he had stumbled upon. He wanted him gone.

“Here,” he said to the grubby specimen next to him. “How would you go about making someone go away?”

Deep set in the grubby face, the man’s eyes were chilling. “Depends how far you want them to go. Billy.” The grubby man stood up and walked away without a word.

Someone else sat unhurriedly in his place. Presumably Billy. “What’s your problem, then, mate?”

“An old enemy.”

“Got to be careful, then. Connections to sudden accidents lead to the gallows.”

“Then I need an alibi,” Bandy said.

“You need to be somewhere else,” his companion said austerely.

Bandy cast his eyes to heaven. God, he had come down in the world. But needs must when the devil—or Drimmen—drove.

*

Elaine was rather pleased by the time breakfast was finished.

Her plan of common sense had found universal, if wary, approval.

The young people were protected from the scandal of a Scottish elopement and could instead spend time together in a respectable courtship.

She had expected to encounter rather more resistance—from the duke, at least—but none appeared to be forthcoming.

At last, Joe laid down his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair with a sigh of contentment.

“Very tolerable breakfast, ma’am,” he said with a grin to Elaine. “Thank you. Shall we go and explore the town?”

“Oh yes,” Jenny said with enthusiasm. “Let’s find the harbor and the beach.”

“I have already found them,” the duke said dryly. “I shall fetch my bags and my curricle from the King’s Head and remove to the hotel. How big is your room, Joe?”

“Perfect for one.”

“Good, then I shall bespeak another with some relief. I hate to hear you snore.”

Jenny giggled, which won her an unexpected twitch of the ducal lips.

Joe regarded his uncle with something like surprise.

Elaine suspected they had been living in the same house at loggerheads for so long that they had forgotten what each other were truly like.

Another reason for them to enjoy a week or so on neutral territory together.

“I believe I have seen enough of the beach for one day,” Elaine said when the young people turned to her in polite invitation.

“I haven’t,” murmured the duke beside her.

She ignored him, willing down the rising flush of embarrassment and hastily addressing Jenny instead. “There is an ice parlor at the top of the high street. If His Grace has no objections, I shall meet you there in a couple of hours. Then perhaps you would like to come shopping with me?”

“Oh, yes,” Jenny said with the awed enthusiasm of someone who enjoyed very little free time.

Elaine beckoned the girl quickly to her bedchamber. “Your things are so crushed with travel, I thought you might like these,” she said, tossing a long pelisse, a hat, and a shawl over the girl’s arm. “We are around the same height, so the pelisse should fit well enough.”

Jenny blushed. “These are too beautiful, ma’am. I could not—”

“My dear, if you plan to be a duchess one day, you will have to practice looking the part.”

“Those men accosted me because they thought I was no one,” she said bleakly.

“Sadly, it is the way of the world. Some people judge all on appearances.”

“Joe never notices what I wear.”

“That says much for Joe.”

Jenny smiled. “It does, doesn’t it? But I suppose we must both be worthy. Thank you, ma’am. It will be fun not to be quite so dowdy.”

As the girl dashed off to her own chamber, Elaine found the duke still in her sitting room, overseeing the clearing of the breakfast dishes.

Clearly, he still had something to say to her.

When the table was pristine once more and the young people had gone off together, Elaine decided to speak first.

“You thought I was aiding and abetting them to hide from you,” she accused.

“You thought I befriended you to discover their whereabouts.” He strolled toward her from the window, where he had been looking down onto the street. “I am happy that we were both wrong. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Thank you for all you have done for them. And continue to do.”

“Careful, now,” she said wryly. “I do not require gratitude. I like them both.”

“And you think I have mismanaged them.”

It was not a question, so she didn’t answer.

“I did,” he confessed. “I have always tried to do the right thing by my brother’s son. But perhaps I don’t always know what that is.”

He had halted just a little too close to her, which caused unexpected turbulence in the region of her stomach. No longer the authoritative duke, it seemed her friend was back.

So, she met his rueful gaze without fear. “I believe he is a true gentleman, despite the wild streak. You should be proud of him.”

He leaned closer confidingly. “I am. And of you—Aphrodite.”

She parted her lips to object vociferously to this mode of address, but before she could utter a sound, he swooped in and kissed her full on the mouth, a quick but stunning act that left her staring after him as he sauntered across the room and departed, closing the door gently behind him.

She blinked, touching her lips with one curious, awed finger.

Why on earth had he done that? Was it insolence? Provocation? Gratitude for helping his nephew, of whom he was clearly, if secretly, fond?

Whatever his reasons, or impulses, she should not be so disturbed by it. She was old enough to know better! And yet young enough, it seemed, to remember the echo of youthful emotions and hopes that had never reached fruition.

I am a sad old spinster, she told herself crossly, and pulled the bell to order her longed-for bath.

*

She did not see the duke again until they and the young couple met that evening in the hotel’s public dining room.

By then, she had half persuaded, half tricked Jenny into a new evening gown and a day dress, on the understanding that Miss Talbot could not possibly have such an ill-dressed goddaughter or companion.

Jenny’s awe and uncertainty were rather humbling—for in truth the garments were not expensive by London standards—and Elaine had already decided to concentrate on Joe’s reactions rather than on the duke.

But it seemed the girl was right about what Joe noticed. Though he kissed her hand and her cheek and was clearly delighted to see her again—after a whole two hours apart—he made no comment upon her dress.

The duke was a model of attentive politeness to both Elaine and Jenny.

If this was for the benefit of the other curious diners—their party did cause quite a stir, since His Grace was no longer incognito—it also served to calm Elaine’s foolish nerves.

And yet, just as on the beach, she was very aware of his physical presence beside her, of the way his deep, and yet curiously melting, voice seemed to reach deep inside her and cause such strange vibrations.

Had she really forgotten what it was to be attracted to a man? The trouble was, she could not recall ever feeling quite like this before. There was an odd affinity between them—she was sure he felt that too—and an intense tug of desire on her part. Beyond that was mere confusion.

It unsettled her. And yet the evening flew by, and she was as sorry to say goodnight as Jenny and Joe. She fell asleep with the duke in her thoughts and looked forward to the morning, when she would see him again.