Page 33 of The Duke and the Hellion Bride (Duchesses of Convenience #7)

Chapter Two

T he door to Leopold Ashwell’s bachelor lodgings rattled violently under Gilbert’s fist, the sharp, insistent knock echoing through the empty street. The Duke of Rivenhall had barely waited for his carriage to halt before striding up the steps, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Not more than half an hour earlier, the Marquess of Camburn had burst into his study with news that Leopold was embroiled in yet another scandal. This time, he had been found himself in a compromising situation with a well-bred young lady at a ball. Gilbert had missed the event, a decision he now regretted.

“Leopold!” Gilbert barked, his voice echoing through the heavy wood. “Open this door at once, or I swear I will break it down.”

From within came a muffled groan, followed by shuffling sounds, then the door swung open to reveal Leopold—disheveled, his waistcoat half undone, the smell of brandy emanating from him. Gilbert’s stomach twisted with disgust. This was not the brother he had hoped to guide from boyhood. This was a man intent on destroying everything Gilbert fought to protect.

Leopold’s cravat hung loosely around his neck and his waistcoat was unbuttoned and revealed a rumpled shirt stained with what Gilbert could only assume was spilled brandy. This was the brother who had repeatedly tested his patience, and who had gambled away fortunes and consorted with rakes and rogues, yet Gilbert always found a way to shield him from his debacles.

“Brother,” Leopold drawled, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His bloodshot eyes and lazy grin betrayed his condition. “What brings you here at this hour? Did your watchdog, Victor, already grace you with another lecture on my finer qualities? I am afraid you are too late. I am quite drunk enough to ignore them.”

Gilbert pushed past him without answering, his boots echoing on the wooden floor. He surveyed the wreckage of Leopold’s lodgings before turning to face his brother.

“You know damn well why I am here,” Gilbert said, his voice icy. Seeing Leopold now justified the urgency in Victor’s tone when he had relayed the scandal to Gilbert. “And yes, Marquess Camburn did indeed inform me of your latest disaster.”

“Which one?” Leopold laughed, stepping back from the door.

Moving toward the cluttered table, Gilbert’s sharp gaze swept over the remnants of Leopold’s evening. Empty bottles and discarded playing cards told their own sordid story. Leopold closed the door with a shrug, stumbling slightly as he moved toward a chair. His limp, a result of the tragic accident that had also claimed their father and sister, was more apparent in his drunken state.

“This,” Gilbert said coldly, gesturing toward the chaos, “is precisely why you are in this mess. Your life reflects your choices: disorder, indulgence, and complete disregard for consequences.”

Leopold groaned, throwing himself down onto a lounge chair with a dramatic sigh. “Must you make it a sermon? Very well, I am a rogue, a rake, a scoundrel. Is that not what you have always thought of me?”

“It is not what I think ,” Gilbert replied, his voice quieter now, though no less cutting. “It is what you have proven. Repeatedly. The debts, the gambling, the company you keep—it all leads to this.” He gestured sharply around the room. “A ruined woman and a family legacy hanging by a thread.”

Leopold waved his hand dismissively, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “You must be the paragon of virtue, are you not? Always so quick to remind me of my flaws while hiding behind your title and rules.”

“This is not about me,” Gilbert said sharply, though his clenched jaw revealed a fleeting moment of unease. He scanned the cluttered room for a seat, but all the chairs were either occupied or too dirty for him to use.

“This is about your recklessness, your inability to think beyond yourself. And do not dare compare our choices. Since Father died, I have carried the weight of this family and covered for you more times than I can count, while you?—”

“While I did what I wanted,” Leopold interrupted, a bitter smile on his face. “Is that my crime, Gilbert? That I chose freedom while you shackled yourself to duty?”

Gilbert turned and stepped closer, his voice low and measured. “Your so-called freedom has left a trail of destruction, Leopold. Tonight, you added an innocent to that list. And I will not let you destroy her life or tarnish this family’s name simply because you refuse to grow up.”

“I seem to have upset you,” Leopold replied, sinking back into the seat. “Is this about Lady Whittaker? Tiresome woman. She overreacted entirely.”

Leopold carelessly scanned the room for a drink. Gilbert glared at him warningly, and Leopold rolled his eyes but picked up a half-empty glass of amber liquid from a nearby table. He ignored Gilbert’s stare with the nonchalance that Gilbert had long come to expect from his brother.

“She caught you alone with an innocent young lady, compromising her reputation in a way that could ruin her and her family. And you call that an overreaction?” Gilbert’s voice rose slightly. He took a steadying breath, willing himself not to lose control.

“It was an accident,” Leopold sighed, and reached for another glass on the table. “I had no ill intent. Miss Gillingham seemed perfectly capable of defending herself. Perhaps you should be scolding her for being so easily scandalized.”

The words ignited a fresh wave of fury in Gilbert, who stepped forward, snatching the glass from Leopold’s hand and slamming it onto the table.

“Do not dare shift the blame onto her,” he snapped. “This is your doing, Leopold. Your recklessness, your drunken stupidity. You are a disgrace .”

Leopold raised an eyebrow, though his smug expression faltered slightly under Gilbert’s glare. “Disgrace is a harsh word,” he replied nonchalantly. “Surely the world has seen worse scandals than this.”

“Do not test me, Leopold.” Gilbert narrowed his eyes, his tone cutting. “You may treat life as a game, but your actions have real consequences. You have dragged an innocent woman into your debauchery, and you will face the repercussions.”

“What repercussions?” Leopold groaned, rubbing his temples as if Gilbert’s words caused him physical pain. “Surely this will all blow over. These things always do.”

“Not this time,” Gilbert said firmly. “You will do the honorable thing and marry Miss Gillingham.”

Leopold sat up straight, his expression shifting from exasperated to incredulous. “Marry her? You cannot be serious.”

“I have never been more serious in my life,” Gilbert replied, his tone as cold as steel. “You compromised her and her reputation is now in tatters because of your behavior. There is no other option. You know this. It is not a new consequence of compromising a young lady.”

Leopold threw up his hands in frustration. “I barely know the girl! Marriage? That is absurd. Surely you cannot expect me to?—”

“I expect you to act like a man for once in your life,” Gilbert interrupted sharply. “You will not destroy her life because of your carelessness. This family has already suffered enough shame because of you.”

Leopold stiffened, his smirk finally fading. “That is unfair, Gilbert. You act as if I seek out trouble. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more.”

“Do not insult me by feigning ignorance,” Gilbert snapped. “You followed her and placed her in a position where she could not defend herself against the assumptions of those who saw you together. Do you know understand what that means for her? For her family? Or do you simply not care?”

“I do care,” he said defensively, throwing his head back against the chair as though Gilbert had demanded his execution. “But marriage , Gilbert? Honestly, you make it sound as if there are no other options. What if we simply... paid her family off? A tidy sum could smooth over many things, you know.”

“Money cannot buy back her reputation. Her life is now in shambles.” Gilbert’s expression hardened; his voice as cold as stone. “If you do not marry her, she will be shunned and cast out by the ton. No amount of gold will undo the whispers that will follow her for the rest of her life.”

Leopold rolled his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine, no bribes. What if I leave London altogether? A prolonged trip to the continent would surely take the pressure off. I could send letters of apology from Florence or Paris. That has a certain charm to it, does it not?”

“You speak of charm while leaving an innocent young woman to face ruin,” Gilbert snapped, stepping closer. “Running away will only confirm your guilt. You will not slink off to the continent like a coward, leaving her to suffer for your actions.”

Leopold waved a dismissive hand. “Coward, slink—it is all very dramatic. Perhaps I am simply more pragmatic than you. Time has a way of softening these things. Scandals come and go like the seasons.”

Gilbert’s jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was sharp enough to cut. “This is not one of your trivial scandals, Leopold. You have tarnished the name of a respectable young woman from a struggling family. Time will not erase the damage you have inflicted.”

Leopold leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he shot Gilbert a bitter smile. “And marriage will? Tying myself to her will hardly fix everything. It will not make her happy, and it certainly will not make me so. And people will still talk.”

Gilbert steeled himself. On the night of the carriage accident he had vowed to safeguard Leopold. Every tense muscle in his body reminded him of the promise he had failed to keep so many years ago; the haunting vow to protect what little remained of his family.

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat, as he tried to push aside the flashes of memory: the bloodstained snow, his father’s final words, the desperate certainty that he had to remain strong because everyone he loved now depended on him. He forced his expression and tone into something cold and remote.

“This is not about your happiness,” he said. “It is about doing what is right. People will say that you did the honorable thing. It is about restoring what you have broken. You owe her that much at the very least.”

Leopold’s jaw tightened, and Gilbert noticed a flicker of genuine discomfort pass over his brother’s face. “Why should I be the one to sacrifice, Gilbert?” Leopold asked, his voice low. “Why must I be the one to bear the consequences? You have never married. Why should I?”

Gilbert felt a stab of guilt twist beneath his ribs. He had vowed never to marry, never to risk a family of his own, not after failing so utterly to protect the one he already had.

The memory rose like a cold specter, but he forced it down. He would not reveal that weakness to Leopold; he needed to be the unyielding guardian and embody the title he held. He had to remain steadfast. Gilbert converted his self-reproach into anger, letting it blaze for a single, savage heartbeat before reining it in again.

“Because I have not ruined anyone’s life in the process!” he roared, the rare explosion of fury startling them both. Leopold’s eyes widened. For a moment, guilt and regret tightened Gilbert’s chest. He despised raising his voice, hated showing how deeply he felt anything, because it reminded him how precarious his control was, and how easily he might fail again. He took a quick step back, inhaled slowly, then pulled himself back into the familiar mask of authority.

When he spoke again, each word was measured and low, honed to a sharp edge. “This is not about you, Leopold. This is about doing what is right. You have no choice in the matter. You will marry Miss Gillingham, or you will bring a degree of shame upon this family that cannot be undone.”

Silence fell. Gilbert stood rigid, concealing the swirl of old wounds and half-buried fears churning beneath his calm exterior. He refused to let that turmoil show. Leopold would see only a duke, unmovable in his demands; never the frightened boy who once failed to keep everyone safe.

Leopold sank back into the chair, running a hand through his hair. “I cannot believe this,” he muttered. “You would truly force me into this?”

“I would, and I am.” Gilbert’s tone left no room for argument. “And do not mistake my decision for cruelty. This is mercy—for her, for her family, and for you. You will learn to be a better man through this, Leopold. Perhaps for the first time in your life.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, the tension in the room becoming nearly unbearable. Finally, Leopold exhaled, his defiance fading into reluctant acceptance.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice flat. “What now? Shall I write her poetry? Buy her roses? How does one woo a woman he barely knows?”

“You will not be wooing her,” Gilbert said bluntly. “This is not a courtship; it is a reparation. Tomorrow, we will visit the Baron of Crayford. You will offer your proposal, and we will see this matter resolved.”

Leopold groaned once more. “Tomorrow? Could I at least have some time to recover from tonight’s ordeal?”

“Consider this part of your penance,” Gilbert replied curtly. He turned toward the door, pausing only briefly. “Clean yourself up, Leopold. We leave at first light.”

With that, Gilbert strode out of the room, leaving his brother to stew in his reluctant agreement. For a moment, he mused that although it was not the first time that he had cleaned up a scandal for his brother, he wondered if he might be fortunate enough this time that it could be the last. For the Duke of Rivenhall, there was no satisfaction in his victory, only the cold determination to see his family’s honor restored, no matter the cost.