Page 8 of The Not So Perfect Duke

“Must be recent. I’ve seen nothing in the papers,” Eleanora replied as she poured their tea. “And you read the society pages more than I do.”

“It must be very recent,” Althea frowned, staring at the note.

“Well. The Marquess of Brookton is a duke now. You, or more specifically, we—have a soft spot for dukes,” her sister teased. “And pretty men.”

“What are you on about?”

“Well, I married a duke. And you flirted with Gideon Broyles, the Duke of Watford, not a few months past.”

Althea snorted. “For all of five minutes. Then I found out he was most decidedly taken. I will admit he did appeal. The threads of gray at the temple, those sharp cheekbones, and an even sharper aristocratic nose. The cool demeanor.”

“Yes, the haughty, imperturbable duke—who secretly smolders deep inside,” Eleanora laughed.

“You’re describing your duke,” Althea responded. “Besides, I was not put out that Gideon was taken, not at all. In fact, I have made friends with Olivia, his bride. I stood for her at their wedding. That was a first, a case concluding with matrimony.”

“Indeed. All the best to Gideon and Olivia.” Eleanora raised her teacup, then took a sip. “Months ago, you told me that Brookton appealed and aroused your interest in more ways than one. Is that still the case?”

“And what if it is? Is that not my business?” Althea replied with an even tone.

“I must confess I had Brookton; I mean, Chellenham investigated some months ago. By Uncle Reece.”

“Why? When, exactly?” Althea couldn’t believe this. Eleanora went to their police detective inspector uncle?

“Shortly after Christian’s case concluded. I saw how you looked at Chellenham. I wanted to know more about the man. If he was truly as horrible as he presented, and as his reputation states. Uncle Reece discovered nothing beyond the gossip. I am sorry I didn’t tell you before this. I hope you are not angry.”

Althea folded the letter and placed it on the table. “No, I am not angry. I understand your reasoning. Yes, the new duke still interests me. However, if you recall, I also told you that the then Marquess of Brookton disgusted me. And that we could not involve ourselves in the lives of these troubled men. I still hold by that observation.”

Eleanora chuckled. “Too late for me. Well, for both of us, actually. We’ve become involved by taking cases and becoming friends with some of them.” Then she sobered. “Will you take his case?”

Althea shrugged. “Common sense states that I stay clear of the man altogether. But when has common sense ever stopped me? I will take the meeting as I am curious enough to hear what he has to say.”

“Do you wish for me to sit in on the consultation, even though he requested a private audience?” Eleanora asked as she sipped her tea.

Althea considered it. Her sister would act as a buffer and perhaps keep those bothersome sparks from coming to life when in Damon’s presence. Yes, she thought of him as Damon, another warning bell clearly indicating that she should refuse to see him.

But Althea was drawn to the man.

She could use the moth-to-flame allusion, seeing it was Shakespearean in origin, but it wasn’t adequate enough for the almighty pull she felt whenever near him. Perhaps she could use Greek mythology, the Icarus flying too close to the sun-wings melting thing.

No, still not satisfactory enough.

Damon was unbearably handsome, too perfect for words. But it was more than that. She sensed his loneliness, and yes, he was troubled. Multiple complicated layers that Althea yearned to peel back. Utterly ached. Her insides quivered at the thought. Damon was not so perfect underneath, which made him captivating. Her fascination was complete madness.

“No, I will see him alone. But I would like you to be nearby, if needs must,” Althea stated.

There, the decision was made. Althea confided to her sister since she was old enough to form sentences, but Althea had not mentioned the few times her path had crossed Damon’s the past several months. When Archie returned in half an hour, Althea would ask him to deliver her message to the new duke.

“I think you can handle Brookton, or Chellenham, well enough. But I will stay on the premises,” Eleanora grinned.

Althea’s eyes narrowed. “You are like the cat that swallowed the proverbial canary. Spit it out, Ellie.”

“I know you exchanged barbs with Chellenham a few months past at Gideon’s. Gideon asked Christian if there was anything between you because the electricity in the room was not from his newly-installed overhead lighting.”

Althea shook her head in disbelief. “And, of course, Gideon relayed the details of the exchange to Christian, and he told you.”

“Of course,” Eleanora declared. “Christian tells me everything. I thought you did as well. Why not tell me about this? I am quite put out.”

Althea chortled. “No, you’re not. You’re amused more than anything. And curious.”