01

The Reverton dukedom was one of England’s oldest and most distinguished noble houses, its lineage stretching back to the days of William the Conqueror. Many legends surrounded the Reverton family, but the most celebrated was this: no matter the circumstances, they never lost their aristocratic composure.

Servants tend to take after their masters, and the staff of the Reverton household was no exception. Peterson, the head butler who had shouldered the weighty responsibilities of his post for twenty-two years, took enormous pride in his ability to remain unruffled in the face of any unexpected situation.

Yet when the Duke of Reverton’s furious roar penetrated the study’s thick door without losing so much as a fraction of its force, even Peterson could not quite conceal his dismay.

The duke had arrived at the Reverton townhouse on Grosvenor Square only yesterday, having come to attend the House of Lords. His elder sister, Leonora, Duchess of Percy, had descended upon them the moment she heard the news, as though she had been lying in wait. And as always, she was turning the duke inside out… a man who appeared cold and composed on the surface but ran hot beneath it.

Peterson thought of Countess Isabel Montgomery, who had fled the house in a panic moments ago, rattled by Leonora’s sharp presence. The countess was no mild-tempered woman herself, which meant it was only a matter of time before her own hysterical outbursts echoed through these halls at least once.

‘His Grace really ought to settle his mind and give some thought to marriage.’

By some coincidence, that very subject was now being broached inside the study.

“Don’t you think it’s time you stopped meddling in my private life?”

Leonora had arrived just as he was on the verge of throwing Isabel out, but that was entirely beside the point. Her interference was a separate matter altogether.

Gideon Fredrick Bradford, Duke of Reverton, despised interference in any form, whether in his public affairs or his private ones. Within the bounds of aristocratic decorum, he made no effort to hide it. No one dared cross the lines he drew.

Leonora Percy, however, was immune. She was the one person in the world who did not fear him. She meddled and lectured without end. She was a woman with the nerve to remain perfectly composed before Queen Victoria’s wrath… a fury that made even seasoned male ministers flinch. Faced with her brother’s shouting, she simply waited him out, expression serene and unhurried, not so much as blinking.

Exhausted by the futility of raging at someone who refused to react, Gideon dropped heavily into his chair.

Leonora, who had been sitting ramrod-straight in the chair their mother had favored in life, waited until she was certain her brother had quieted before she spoke.

“Now I suppose I should tell you why I came today.”

Gideon curled his lip at once.

“Wasn’t ruining what would have been a perfectly magnificent evening by chasing me down enough? Now you intend to lecture me on top of it?”

Most women would have flushed scarlet and lost the power of speech at that. Leonora met it head-on.

“You’re right, I suppose I do feel a little sorry about that. I’ll apologize for it. I’ve heard Isabel Montgomery is quite extraordinary in the bedroom.”

“How remarkable. It seems Her Majesty’s virtuous ladies-in-waiting enjoy that sort of conversation.”

Ignoring the jab, Leonora steered the exchange with practiced ease toward where she wanted it to go.

“Her Majesty’s ladies must always keep their attention fixed on what interests Her Majesty.”

Experience should have told him to catch the trap at this point. But he was worn down from a grueling stretch of travel, from Europe to Scotland and straight on to London. Gideon felt a vague unease even as he fired back coolly.

“It seems Her Majesty’s interests have shifted from colonial expansion and European affairs to the love lives of her nobility.”

“Not the love lives of all her nobility.”

Leonora waited, hoping her brother’s curiosity would get the better of him and pull him squarely into the snare. To her misfortune, Gideon had already recovered a considerable degree of his composure. He decided there was no reason to expose his curiosity and hand her the advantage. He said nothing.

Leonora abandoned the game. There was no point playing it against a brother who had already returned to his usual self.

“What presently commands Her Majesty’s keen attention is the private life of the Duke of Reverton.”

“And what exactly are you trying to tell me? That the queen knows about Isabel and me, finds it distasteful, and wants me to end it?”

That was precisely the question she had been waiting for. She had timed her arrival and forced her way in for exactly this moment. And yet, now that the decisive blow was upon her, her legs had begun to tremble. Even Leonora Percy, Duchess of Percy, second lady of the bedchamber to the queen… the woman said to have the heart of a dragon… found her brother no easy opponent.

Praying she would leave this house alive, she steeled herself and delivered her declaration.

“Her Majesty wishes for you to marry.”

“What!”

Gideon shot to his feet. What poured out of him then was not the language of a dignified duke but the kind of raw, colorful profanity suited to a dockworker or a sailor, aimed squarely at the queen.

Had Victoria herself been present… sheltered as she was behind her armor of morality and propriety… she would have fainted on the spot. And upon reviving, she would have had every justification to order his immediate execution for treason, with no room left for defense.

Leonora, temporarily setting aside her identity as a loyal servant of Queen Victoria, squeezed her eyes shut. Butler Peterson and the duke’s personal valet Melvin, who had been eavesdropping nearby with rather less fortitude than their mistress, abandoned their post entirely and fled.

Gideon vented every last drop of his fury and turned back to her, still seething.

“Marry Isabel? Has the queen lost her mind?”

Swallowing a breath of relief, Leonora played the card she had been holding in reserve for this moment.

“She didn’t say it had to be Isabel specifically. That was my own implication… meaning it might come to that if nothing else could be arranged.”

Gideon fixed her with a stare so glacial it made Leonora flinch.

“All right. Stop going in circles and say what you came to say. What is it that you and the queen actually want?”

“For you to marry, and to stop unsettling women’s hearts and stirring up scandals.”

That was enough to be staggering on its own. Gideon had already passed the point of outrage, and so he held his icy composure without letting it crack.

“I always wondered why the queen left me alone for so long. She sent Tyncastle last year, and now it’s my turn. She seems to be under the delusion that marriage will turn me into another Prince Albert. The delusion has its limits.”

“Regardless, the fact that Her Majesty desires it and saw fit to give me a private word means you have no choice but to comply. She was gracious enough not to specify whom you must marry.”

“What extraordinary mercy. Whether I marry one woman or another, living with someone who will whine endlessly or interfere in my every affair amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it.”

Forcing down a surge of irritation, Leonora delivered the blow she had been saving.

“Then go on as you are and leave your estate and title to Jonathan, or his son Lloyd. They’ll be overjoyed. The dream that was dashed the day you were born will finally come true. How fortunate that our parents didn’t live to see the grandson of that shady former sailor-turned-merchant… the one rumored to have been a slave hunter… become heir to the Reverton dukedom.”