Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane #12)(70)

Iris smiled. “I’m not surprised, it was so sudden.” She told them the fictitious tale about the highwaymen and Raphael’s gallant insistence on marriage to save her good name.

“What a terrifying story,” Mrs. Whitehall said when she was done with the recitation. “You must’ve been very frightened.”

Iris agreed without any deceit on that account.

Mrs. Whitehall pursed her lips into a little moue. “It’s just too bad that your brother was unable to help you with the decision to marry. Negotiating the marriage contract should always be done by a gentleman who has the best interests of the lady involved. I find that every woman needs the level influence of masculine counsel, especially when making such important decisions.”

Iris’s smile grew a trifle stiff. “I think I made an adequate decision all on my own.”

“But did you, Your Grace?” Miss Jones-Thymes asked gently. “I’m not at all sure that you were aware of all the facts when you made such a precipitous decision.”

Iris narrowed her eyes. “What facts are you referring to?”

The ladies before her exchanged a look.

Mrs. Whitehall cleared her throat. “There are rumors, my dear. Rumors that, had you or your brother been aware of them, might have made you more cautious about leaping so rashly into matrimony with His Grace.”

Iris firmed her lips. “I find I have no interest in rumors.”

“No?” Miss Jones-Thymes purred. “Not even that the Duke of Dyemore enjoys the company of little boys?”

Lord Barton’s house was too small for a ball, Raphael thought irritably. The refreshments were well away from the dancing room, and already the passages in between were filled with sweating bodies. He edged past two elderly gentlemen in full-bottomed wigs and came face-to-face with Andrew Grant.

“Dyemore.” Andrew glanced quickly over his shoulder. “I had no idea you’d be here.

Raphael raised his brows. “It seemed time to introduce my duchess to society. Are you attending alone?”

Andrew had an uneasy look in his eyes. “I … I—”

But before he could answer, his elder brother loomed behind him.

Viscount Royce’s thin mouth was twisted with irritation. “What’s kept you, Andy, I’ve—”

He cut himself short when he saw Raphael. “Your Grace.” He darted a glance at his brother. “I had no idea you were in London.”

“My wife and I only arrived a few days ago,” Raphael said smoothly. He didn’t mention that he’d already seen and spoken to Andrew in London. “Although we were attacked at an inn on the way down. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”

“Why would I?” Royce glared.

Raphael shrugged. “Our mutual friend—”

“Pardon, pardon.” A young man in a lavender suit pushed past.

“This isn’t the place for this discussion,” Royce hissed. “Follow me.”

Raphael barely had time to incline his head before the other man was turning and shoving his way through the crowd, his brother behind him. Raphael followed. Interesting that Andrew hadn’t told his elder brother that he’d talked to Raphael. Perhaps he could find an ally there? Andrew had certainly endured the worst the Lords of Chaos were capable of.

Royce led them through two corridors and finally to a hidden door at the end of a hall. The viscount opened it and gestured Raphael in ahead of him and his brother.

It seemed to be a small study or sitting room, but it was dimly lit—there was no fire in the hearth.

Hector Leland rose from a chair as they entered.

“What took you—” He cut himself off when he saw Raphael.

Leland’s eyes widened and darted quickly behind Raphael as if signaling a message.

Raphael turned, but he couldn’t tell which brother Leland had been looking at.

In any case, Leland had recovered by the time he glanced back at him.

“Why did you bring him here?” Leland hissed. He was definitely speaking to Viscount Royce now. He sidled nearer the brothers as if seeking their protection.

Royce grimaced and abandoned both Leland and his brother to walk across the room to a side table where a decanter stood. He poured himself a large measure and took a sip. “Dyemore was discussing Lords business—out there where anyone could overhear.”

Even here, in a room far from the crowd, Royce’s voice was low and careful.

Leland shook his head at Raphael. “To what purpose? Are you trying to goad the Dionysus into killing you?”

“He’s already tried once,” Raphael drawled. “I have nothing to lose by inciting him further.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Andrew said quietly.

The three other men turned to him.

Andrew blinked as if being the center of attention made him nervous.

“What do you mean?” Raphael asked.

Andrew licked his lips. “Well, there must be people you care for? You did save the former Lady Jordan—and even married her. That must mean something, surely? And don’t you have an aunt? Some sort of female relation, anyway. I know you’re a cold brute, but if she turned up floating in the Thames or hanging from a tree in Hyde Park, wouldn’t that make you twitch just a little?”