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Jonah pushed open the door and froze. “What is going on here?”

A little sound escaped Bea’s mouth. Not that she minded going head-to-head with Regina, but as Jonah strode toward her, his commanding frame—burly shoulders, thick, unfashionable thighs, big feet and hands—made her relax. He made her feel safe.

He walked past his sister and looked down at Bea, cupped one cheek, and dropped a kiss on her lips.

Bea stifled a gasp. She was compromised. Kissed in front of an audience, albeit a single family member.

“Are you all right?” Jonah asked, a husky promise in those words.

She smiled up at him. “Yes,” she said simply. And again: “Yes.”

“You cannot go ahead with this idiocy!” Regina erupted from behind him.

Jonah turned. “Why not?”

He wrapped an arm around Bea, but she stepped free. She had to stand on her own when it came to Regina; she couldn’t let Jonah defend her, no matter how safe his looming presence made her feel.

“You have to marry someone better,” Regina said, tight-lipped. “You know why, Jonah.” She turned to Bea. “Our father was a degenerate who spent down the estate. My brother is practically a pauper, and he must marry someone with a huge dowry—a true fortune. Our family reputation needs to be mended in high society. His title is up for sale, and you’re not good enough to be the Duchess of Lennox!”

Bea had already figured that out on her own. Luckily, her fortune was huge, but obviously, neither Jonah nor her sister knew. She grinned at him. “Perhaps we can auction off the title. What do you think, Your Grace?”

He looked at her, his dark eyes somber.

Regina burst back into speech. “You haven’t even told her, have you? You don’t think that Miss Valentine deserves to know the truth?”

Bea didn’t like the expression on Jonah’s face. He was at his most dukish, which suggested Regina’s darts were injurious. “You should stop talking,” she said to Regina, realizing with a jolt of delight that if Jonah made her feel safe, she could do the same for him.

Regina ignored her, of course. “If you marry her, you’ll end up immured in the country, scything grain like a peasant. Never in London, never taking up your seat in the House of Lords!”

“You already know I won’t take up my seat,” Jonah replied. He was watching his sister with the intent look of a predator assessing a threat.

Bea shivered. Did she really want to be part of this family, or even worse, to come between members of this family?

“You must not lower yourself—”

Jonah’s voice was deep, knife-sharp. “Be careful, Regina.”

His sister narrowed her eyes. “You dare—”

“You dare.” Suddenly he was far beyond dukish. The Duke of Lennox stood before them, enraged, the power of his ducal ancestors sounding in his voice as clearly as if ranks of noblemen stood at his shoulders.

Bea drew in a silent breath.

“I have done my best with you,” Jonah stated. “I have tried, Regina. I don’t know why you are such a calloused, unfeeling woman. If you were a man, I would have knocked you down long ago.”

The room was silent but for the tick-tock of the grandfather clock. Patches of rouge showed on Regina’s cheekbones.

“Perhaps you should have this conversation at a later date, when feelings are less high,” Bea put in.

Jonah glanced at her with a warrior’s rage in his eyes. Then they softened, and he nodded. Looking back at Regina, he said with precision, “You have shamed and disappointed me with your behavior for the last time. I will say this once, Sister: If you ever say an unkind word to my future wife, or any children we might have, you will never see me again. All England will know that the Duke of Lennox has repudiated his sister. Whose side do you think they’ll take?”

“That’s enough,” Bea said.

“I’ve made my point,” Jonah said, his voice suddenly casual. “I believe that you are staying the night with the Pagets, Regina?”

His sister nodded wordlessly, though her eyes were furious.

“I suggest you return upstairs. Your friends may be wondering where you are.” His voice had a devastating twinge of disinterest.