Daniel regained his seat behind his massive mahogany desk as his solicitor closed the door after his departure. He threw a quick glance at the sideboard littered with bottles, and then back to the tumbler of port sitting on the far edge of his desk—untouched by his man of business. Maybe just a sip. To take the edge off.

His body had been tight with apprehension since he’d gone back into the modiste’s shop to confront Gable.

Daniel had demanded Phineas draft a note grand enough to settle on Charlie’s family so that the boy’s mother and sisters would never go hungry again. To his surprise, the funds with a letter attached, had arrived at Daniel’s solicitor’s office that very morning.

It was something Daniel should have taken care of immediately, instead of acting as if it had never happened.

But now that business had been handled, he was again without something to occupy his mind.

It had been two days since he’d stumbled upon Lettie outside her father’s study door after her parents had made it clear he was to pursue their daughter with renewed vigor. Blast it all, he damn well wanted to pursue her, though not at Lord and Lady Percival’s insistence.

If—when—he decided to make his intentions known to Lettie, it would be because it was his decision, not due to pressure from others.

From the dire expression she’d held the other day, he knew for certain she was not ready. Was not ready to forget the past, was not ready to mingle in society, and was not ready to believe there was hope for her future.

Daniel was determined to give her exactly that…hope.

He pulled the invitation from the drawer at his left. He didn’t need to open it to know what it said. The time he’d spent studying the note, reading Lady Percival’s neat, controlled writing, told Daniel all he needed to know: if Lettie were determined to deny her parents what they sought, they would invite whom they desired to Carrolton House to drag her out into society, no matter the fuss she gave.

Shoving the letter back in the drawer, Daniel scrubbed his hands down his face as he leaned back in his chair.

Who else had been invited?

In all likelihood, they’d invited other eligible lords, others to contend for her hand, if Daniel did not fall in line and capture Lettie’s notice before long. The simple fact was, Lettie deserved a man far more noble than he, and Daniel understood why she pushed him away. He’d let her go all those years ago for that exact reason: she deserved a man who loved her above all else.

At the time, Daniel had only cared about himself and what pleased him. What had lifted him from the black haze of despair he’d fallen into after his father’s passing. Lettie and their courtship hadn’t been enough to pull him from the murky depths of sorrow—or maybe she had, and it was he who hadn’t given her ample opportunity to try. Regardless, she’d deserved a devoted man—a gentleman who woke every morning to please her, to cherish her, and to protect her.

Damn it all, but he was that man.

Had they forewarned Lettie? Daniel highly doubted it, or she would have put an end to the farce long before the invitations had been sent.

If he couldn’t convince Lord and Lady Percival to stop the meal, then he’d be there to protect Lettie. No matter what she said or how angry she was with him, he owed her that much. She needed him, and Daniel would not disappoint her again.

So, she may be avoiding him, telling him he wasn’t wanted, but he knew differently.

One day, she would realize this—and he would be there at her side, proving that he had changed. He was not the man she accused him of being. He would never deny his flaws and faults, but that was not the man he was now.

It had taken years of bitterness and hurt to realize that while it had pained him to let her go, it was only in doing so that she’d become the woman she was today. Hell, he was proud of her, and of himself for sacrificing his happiness for her.

While Lettie had changed, so had Daniel. He was wiser, and now knew what would truly make him happy, though not in his many vivid dreams had he imagined Lettie would come back to England—and him.

He pushed back his chair and stood.

The time had come to prepare, and if he’d learned anything about Lettie, she was not one to be kept waiting.

Daniel paused outside the parlor as another moment of doubt overtook him. He shouldn’t have come. It would have been wise for him to send his regrets to Lord and Lady Percival; however, Daniel was unwilling to let Lettie face a parlor full of people without an ally by her side.

Damn it. He should have been honest with her days ago. It was because of him they’d fought. Honestly, he could not rightfully, and in good conscience, blame everything that had transpired on Lord Gable.

Daniel was who he was. That he’d worked hard to do away with his roguish ways, banish his rakehell tendencies that had become almost second nature over the long years alone, should win him some reward. A prize of leniency at the very least.

Lettie hadn’t any notion how far he’d fallen into debauchery. Although, at present, he suspected she was learning.

And he couldn’t be frightened to face her head-on and explain his past with no excuses or rationalizations. She deserved honesty while Daniel deserved her scorn. Their brief time walking among the grove of plum trees only reinforced her innocence in everything and his culpability.

A bubble of female laughter floated from the room beyond the closed door, though Lettie’s light laugh was noticeably missing from the choir.

He took a deep breath, straightened his neckcloth, and patted his hair into place. “I’m ready.”

“Very good, your grace,” the butler pushed the door wide with a flourish, revealing a room cluttered with women he adamantly avoided, and men who’d aged out of their wild ways years before. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Duke of Linwood.”

Daniel instantly spotted Lettie, gowned in a dress of pure black, the only adornment the velvet trim along the hem and neckline, which reached to her chin. She appeared every inch the widow she was. By the way the females gathered around her squawked and giggled, he was the only one to notice.

She was stunning, captivating, and enthralling all at the same time. Her mourning shroud hid more than the pain of her past, but lent an air of mystery to her person.

The duchess had settled on the grand idea to host this party in hopes that Lettie would embrace her old life in town, reconnect with her dear friends, and eventually, do away with her mourning garb before the Season ended. It was a risky tactic on their part, and no doubt, Lettie would see clear through their scam. If not, Daniel was more than willing to play her companion for the evening and steer the conversation in a direction that would not cause her any pain.

Lettie may not want him there, but she damn well needed him there. Or maybe he only deluded himself and it was he who needed her.

“Good evening,” Daniel said, nodding to several men he’d met on occasion before moving to Lettie’s side. Her guests were occupied, completely missing she did not offer him any greeting. He’d count his blessings that she didn’t outright throw him from the room. “Lady Lettie. Thank you for inviting me this evening.”

She did not refute his insinuation that it had been her idea to invite him, but instead, set her sights on being an acceptable hostess. “May I introduce Lady Buttomcoup, Lady Alsoup, and Lady Haunton. We all attended our first Season together.”

“No gentleman with any sense could forget the year London was presented with the finest crop of debutantes ever to grace a ballroom.” Daniel bowed low as the women tittered behind their fans at his outlandish greeting.

“Hear, hear, Linwood!” the men, clustered by the sideboard, called in agreement as they raised their glasses in salute to their wives.

“What will you have, your grace?” Lord Alsoup motioned to the grand display of decanters on the sideboard and waggled his brows as if they were nothing more than a group of University gents nipping a few pulls from one of their father’s treasured liquor cabinet.

Daniel waved him off with a shake of his head. He needed to keep his wits about him if he were going to assist Lettie in making it through the evening. “It is a pleasure to see you all again,” he said to the gathering at large.

The women giggled once more, and Lettie winced as they returned to their conversation. Namely, painted cotton gowns imported from India—Lady Buttomcoup insisted they’d fallen out of fashion twenty years before, while Lady Haunton adamantly disagreed. Lettie was called on to make her worldly edict on the matter.

She rubbed her brow. The women thought she pondered the subject, while Daniel suspected Lettie had developed a headache and was certainly in need of a drink—far more than he.

Leaning close, he whispered, “May I offer you refreshments, my lady?”

Her back stiffened but she nodded in agreement, still avoiding eye contact with him.

She had yet to forgive him.

A bottle of sherry sat on the sideboard, and Daniel quickly poured her a healthy portion. If it didn’t help relieve her headache, at least it would drown out the incessant chatter.

“What have you been up to, Linwood?” the Earl of Haunton inquired. “We haven’t seen you much at White’s or Tattersall’s. Thought you’d retired to the country or some other outrageous thing.”

Daniel only knew the trio of men in passing, but they normally stayed close, presumably because their wives were friends. “No, no,” Daniel said with a pretentious chuckle. “I would not think of leaving the delights of London, especially during the Season.”

The men shared a knowing look. What they thought they knew wasn’t apparent to Daniel.

“Now that Lady Lettie is back in London, we hope to see you more frequency.” It was Buttomcoup who spoke, petting his rounded paunch as he did. He appeared a caricature from that tawdry gossip rag the Duchess of Essex always kept lying around.

Exactly how frequently they expected to see him was uncertain; however, since he’d only spoken with the man on two occasions—that he could recall—he wasn’t worried about them demanding much of his time.

“Certainly.” He tilted his head in Lettie’s direction. “If you will excuse me, I must bring my lady her sherry.”

“Of course, of course.” Alsoup waved him off.

“We all know how women get if their drink is not brought with all due haste,” Haunton chimed in.

“Would be awful to irk Lady Lettie so soon,” Buttomcoup jested.

The three men found their comments highly amusing as they all chortled in unison.

It seemed a gaggle of men was just as daunting and annoying as a flock of women.

He wondered if they’d be surprised or impressed to know he’d already angered her.

With a conspiratorial grin for the men, he moved back toward Lettie. Her hands were clutched in her lap, knuckles white from wringing her kerchief. It seemed the other women were oblivious to her discomfort, none of the three noticing her unease.

“Lettie,” Lady Buttomcoup gushed. “You certainly must speak with your parents and request to journey with us to Bath. We make the trip every year. The children love the hot baths. And, of course, we enjoy several weeks together.”

The trio nodded in unison, as their husbands had, appearing much like a group of bobbing pigeons walking through Hyde Park looking for food scraps.

Lettie blanched at the mention of children.

“Not that you don’t already know the excitement of traveling,” Lady Haunton exclaimed, reaching out to touch Lettie’s clenched hands. “Your mother tells us you and your late husband journeyed extensively during your marriage.”

“Ummm…” Lettie allowed a hint of a smile at the mention of Gregory. “Yes, though I would not say it was exciting in any way. We traveled with a large group of soldiers.”

“And France?” Lady Alsoup gushed loudly enough for her husband to hear. “I have wanted to visit Paris for some time.”

“Devine,” Lord Alsoup called from the sideboard. “As soon as the children are old enough for that kind of journey, we will go.”

“You truly must instruct me on all the finest places to visit when there,” the lady pouted. “Though it may be years before Lord Alsoup will take me.”

“I fear I will be of little assistance, Devine,” Lettie sighed. “My travels were not for pleasure. It was my duty to cook, mend clothing, and tend to the wounded. Now, if one of the children falls and injures their arm, I can set and bind a broken limb as well as any doctor.”

It was Lettie’s attempt at setting the women straight, but also joking so no one took offense.

All three women paused long enough to gauge if Lettie jested or not.

When a hesitant laugh broke the silence, Daniel supposed they truly believed her journey with the British soldiers to fight off Napoleon’s troops was nothing more than a jaunt to the wilds of Northumberland.

Lettie’s shoulders tensed as the women continued to cackle.

Daniel watched as she glanced at the door—her only escape. She was close to fleeing. He could see it in the way her shoulders had gone from tense to caving in on her.

“Just wait until word spreads that you are back in London—and ready to make a perfect match!” Lady Alsoup clapped with eagerness. “It will be as grand as our first Season.”

Grand as their first Season? Daniel had barely made it through Lettie’s debut Season. She’d been chased by every available lord, and many who weren’t. He’d been made to stay in the shadows as she took her place in the spotlight, but at the end of each night, she’d left on his arm.

Would things be different if she re-entered society?

Thankfully, the butler stepped back into the room at that moment. “Dinner will be served now. Lord and Lady Percival will meet you all in the dining hall. This way, please.”

Buttomcoup, Alsoup, and Haunton each moved to assist their wives with standing and offered their arms, following the butler from the room, leaving Daniel and Lettie alone.

He offered his arm, and she stood, resting her hand at his elbow.

“I am sorry about what happened at the modiste’s.” It was no more than a sigh. He’d never been adept at apologizing for his actions, though, admittedly, he owed her further explanation. Acknowledging his shortcomings after all these years and losing her a second time would be more damaging than the first time.

Her chin notched upward. “Did you know about this?”

If he admitted that he did, she’d be livid, but lying wasn’t an option either. Their time together had been rocky enough without him further angering her with deception. “I received an invitation the day I saw you outside your father’s study. With a note from the duchess. I know you are cross with me—“

“Then why did you come?” She turned accusing eyes on him. “This entire gathering is a farce. I am not the woman I was six years ago. I will never be that woman again. I have seen too much, experienced more than any woman should. Inviting my past to confront me, their happiness and joy on display, will do nothing but push me further away from them—and my parents.”

Lady Haunton poked her head back into the room. “Are you coming, Lettie?”

“Yes. I will be there momentarily. I need to freshen up a bit.” She turned to Daniel after Lady Haunton had disappeared. “Go and join the others. I need a moment alone if you don’t mind.”

He started to argue, to tell her he’d wait with her until she was ready to join everyone, but she held up a finger, silencing any protest. “Please.” Her voice cracked and tears glistened in her eyes.

She didn’t want him to see her cry. That was something Daniel understood well.

“Very well, but if you do not arrive presently, I will come looking for you,” he warned.