AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No law had required him to give Erika anything; learned men had forcefully advised against it. But it saved Erika from returning to the family she had married him to escape, and that eased the guilt, at least.
“And how does a duke go about raising a large lump sum?” Hadrian asked.
“There is only one way, my friend. The time-honored, traditional, tried-and-true way.”
“Ah. Marriage.”
“Yes. Marriage.”
Hadrian gave a low whistle. “Brave of you, to dive once more into those shark-infested waters.”
“I want to get married again.” Leo ripped off the plank and tossed it aside. “I have to get married again. The entire point of the divorce was so I could get married again.”
Yet here he was, still no closer to being wed than when Parliament passed the Act finalizing his divorce two years earlier. Surely finding another bride ought not to have been so difficult? He was aduke, for pity’s sake, not yet thirty, with London’s finest collection of decorative objects, the world’s prettiest waistcoats, and hair that fell so effortlessly into the coveted Windswept style that it evoked sighs of envy from gentlemen across the land.
He could not even blame his unwed state on the scandal of his first marriage and subsequent divorce. England, after widespread debate across coffee houses and taverns, parks and assembly rooms, had magnanimously chosen to forgive him for his youthful mistake. Besides, he had been in Vienna when he married so impulsively, and all young men made bad decisions when abroad, the nation had agreed. Of course, most tourists brought home tawdry paintings as a souvenir, not a hedonistic Hungarian princess.
Nor was it for lack of suitable ladies. Leo had waltzed and strolled and dined with any number of eligible women: diamonds and originals, wallflowers and bluestockings, widows and companions. Any number of times he had nodded at a lady and told himself,Yes, she will do nicely. Only to somehow neglect to ever speak to her again.
Such behavior bordered ondishonorable, came the outraged whispers of those whose greatest pleasure was finding something to be outraged about. When a duke showed an interest in a lady, only to abandon her, everyone wondered what was wrong with her.
When it happened enough times, with enough ladies, everyone wondered what was wrong with him.
Leo tore another plank off the crate with more vigor than was required.
Nothingwas wrong with him. He had simply been waiting for the right moment, the right lady, the right motivation. A little push, that was all he’d needed, and that little push had come today when his man of affairs bombarded him with numbers, such as the number of pounds, shillings, and pence he needed to obtain in order to expand his Foundation, and the number of ladies he needed to marry in order to obtain that sum. Thousands of pounds. One lady.
“I was curious why you hadn’t remarried,” Hadrian mused. “It’s unlike you to delay once you decide something. I’d wondered if the divorce caused you pain.”
“All the divorce caused me was great expense and even greater embarrassment.”
Chuckling, Hadrian flipped to the next page. “Ah, this is interesting. Criteria for your bride, it seems: ‘Twenty thousand pounds. Of child-bearing age. Suitable to be a duchess. Likes decorative arts?’ That last one has a question mark.”
“My secretary included it as a nice-to-have, but not necessary.”
Hadrian blinked at him. “Yoursecretarydictated these criteria? You open your own boxes but let your staff advise on marital affairs as well as financial ones?”
“My dear chap, marital affairsarefinancial affairs,” Leo drawled in affected ducal tones. “And yes, as we already established, I hire people to do things I don’t enjoy, and that includes making lists and doing sums.”
“And choosing brides?”
Leo ignored him.
“What about…” Hadrian flung aside the pages and roamed again, scraping his fingers over his scalp. “I don’t know… Passion?”
Leo snorted derisively. He had yielded to passion once, and it had chewed him up and spat him out. He was still tidying up the mess.
“I made mistakes,” he said. “Marrying properly is the final step in fixing those mistakes.”
“But if you marry wrongly again…”
“It’ll be different this time.”
“How so?”
“This time when I choose my wife, I’ll actually be sober.”
No more delay. He would begin his courtship at tonight’s ball. He’d be engaged within a month, married within three. There was one lady in London who met all four of those criteria. Her name was Susannah Macey, and she would make him a good wife.
