The fact that he kept thinking about Eleanor, and the way she uttered those absurd little noises when she kissed him…that was unacceptable.

He had made his bed the moment he allowed Tobias to be conceived. He couldn’t undo those wrongs after all these years, but he could make a level-headed choice for wife, rather than choosing someone based on lust.

Because damn it, he felt lust for Eleanor. Even thinking about her made him harden. Remembering the way he bent over her on the balcony, and her bottom tucked—

He woke to himself to find that Lisette was protesting the strength of his mouth. “Really, Leopold,” she said a bit querulously. “I know that you have a man’s desires, but there’s no need to be immoderate.”

Never, in the length of his misspent life, had he kissed one woman while arousing himself with thoughts of another. He had horrified himself—not an easy task. “I will never do that again,” he stated. “I apologize.”

Lisette dimpled at him. “Actually, I’m quite happy to see the strength of your—” She coughed delicately. “—desire. I have seen you looking at Eleanor and I thought perhaps you had feelings for her.”

“The decision not to marry was mutual,” he said, his voice coming out more sharply than he intended.

“I’m glad to hear that!” Lisette said, her dimples appearing again. “Not that I would normally worry about competition, but Eleanor is so witty. And she has a kind of je ne sais quoi that makes her very attractive to men.”

“I know.”

“And,” Lisette continued, “she’s truly intelligent. When we were all children here we used to have chess tournaments and she always won. She would beat her brother and my father as well.”

“Chess?” Villiers said. “She plays chess?”

“Didn’t you know? I thought Marguerite told me once that you have quite a penchant for it yourself, don’t you?”

“You could say that,” he said. Since he was one of the three top players in the kingdom.

“You see, one of my other aunts is a quite good chess player. So she taught everyone chess in the summer, and she would organize us into tournaments.”

“What is her name?” Villiers said, squinting through the window. A carriage had just drawn up, but he couldn’t see if it had a crest on the door.

“Rosamund Patton,” Lisette said. “Have you ever met her?”

“I’ve played Mrs. Patton at the Chess Club,” Villiers said. “She was the only woman who had won entrance to the club until very recently, when the Duchess of Beaumont won a place.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m sure that Eleanor could do the same. She used to beat Rosamund all the time. I think Eleanor is probably the most intelligent woman I know.”

“I think that you are one of the nicest women I know,” Villiers said, dropping a kiss on her mouth. “There aren’t many ladies who would praise another woman the way you do.”

Lisette’s whole face lit up when she smiled. “Women can be so silly to each other! Men are easy to come by, but female friends are not. Goodness, look at that! We have another visitor.” She clapped her hands, jumping to her feet. “What fun this is! I haven’t had visitors for a month of Sundays, and now it’s positively raining people.”

“There’s a crest on the carriage door,” Villiers said.

“Oh well, then I expect it’s Astley,” Lisette said.

“What?”

She turned to look at him. “The Duke of Astley, of course. Didn’t you hear at dinner last night? His wife has died. He will have come for Eleanor.”

Villiers grabbed her arm. “What do you mean?”

She frowned until he loosed his grip and then she bestowed a smile on him. “I said, it’s the Duke of Astley, come to fetch Eleanor, of course.”

“But—”

“Oh, I forgot. You probably don’t know. They were in love as children. And then he was forced to marry a woman named Ada. That was so sad.”

“How on earth do you know all this?”

“I told you! We used to play together as children, and we still correspond occasionally. At any rate, Astley—I think his name is Gideon, though I haven’t met him—loves Eleanor. And she loves him. So I expect he’s come for her.”

“He’s come for her?”

Lisette looked up at him. “Eleanor is not the sort of woman whom any man would forget,” she pointed out.

“Of course it’s not Astley,” Villiers stated. “His wife is barely in the ground.” He held out his arm.

“I shall go outside to see,” Lisette said, and she actually dashed off without waiting for his escort.

Villiers decided that the code of gentlemanly behavior did not insist one had to trot after a fleeing woman, so he walked into the entrance hallway at a measured pace.

Never mind the fact that he was fighting an impulse to walk faster and faster. Of course it wasn’t Astley. Though it wouldn’t matter to him if it were. He had no wish to marry Eleanor; he was to marry Lisette. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that there would be a tremendous scandal if Eleanor bolted with the Duke of Astley a few days after his duchess died.

Impossible. He knew Astley. The man defined the word conventional. Astley would think as prudently as he himself had when choosing Lisette as a wife. Astley was a rational man.

Dukes had to be rational men. They couldn’t simply dash off and do whatever they pleased. He quickened his pace. The carriage likely held Lisette’s father, which was all to the good, because he should extend a formal request for Lisette’s hand in marriage. Not to mention the fact that someone had mentioned a purported betrothal between Lisette and the next-door squire Thestle’s son. Not Roland, but another one. That would have to be dealt with, he supposed.

There was always the chance that Gilner would refuse him, based on his bastard children, or Lisette’s existing engagement. But now that he’d had a close look at the Gilner estate, he doubted it. Gilner was clearly not a stickler for propriety. His daughter was chaperoned by a woman who brazenly lived with her devoted friend.

Moreover, from what he could see, Lady Marguerite spent a good deal of her time traveling. No severe elderly relative was part of the household, assigned to serve as a damper so that a suitor couldn’t court Lisette whenever and wherever he wished. In fact, if he wanted, he could probably waltz right into Lisette’s bedroom and deflower her.

No one would even notice, most likely.

Not that he would do it, because—

He walked down the front steps feeling like a fool. The carriage did not have the Gilner crest. A small group was standing in front of the steps, and Lisette turned around, waving.

“Leopold! Do come!”

He walked over, knowing the truth of it in his gut.

“You see?” she said happily, slipping her fingers into his. “I told you so!”

Eleanor was locked in the arms of a man.

Not just any man either. Gideon, Duke of Astley, was a particularly beautiful man. Not terribly tall, but who needed height when he had that profile?

Villiers took a deep breath.

Gideon was kissing Eleanor in front of her sister Anne, Lisette, the butler, three footmen, assorted groomsmen—and Eleanor’s own mother, the duchess. Who was smiling, Villiers realized with another jolt. Not with the kind of barbed acceptance with which she greeted the news that he, the Duke of Villiers, was marrying her daughter, but with a kind of wild, surprised joy.

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