“Who else benefits from attacking me this way?” Leo said through gritted teeth. “But I need proof.”
“I will help. Your mother married the Duke of Covington after your father’s death, but even he is not a match for our combined forces.”
“Thank you,” Leo nodded.
“You don’t seem satisfied.”
“It’s just that,” Leo huffed, “because of me and my family, someone else suffers.”
“Miss Jenkins.”
“Yesterday at the charity event, the ton really showed its claws. They called her shameless.”
“Hm. You went to the Countess’s charity event.”
“I did.”
“The event you call, and I quote, ‘where dignity goes to die’ on multiple occasions.”
“I never said I was dignified.”
“What did you do, Leo?”
“I told you. I announced that I am courting Miss Jenkins.”
Edwin dropped his cigar, luckily in the tray, ashes flying.
“No, Leo,” Edwin sounded surprised. “You told me you were courting the girl. Not that you publicly announced it in front of the whole ton.”
“You know me better than anyone. She is in a difficult position because of me. I was not going to let her fend for herself.”
“Such a noble, humanitarian cause. You are quite the philanthropist, Mildenhall,” Edwin chuckled.
Leo felt tempted to take out his cigar on Edwin’s smug face, but he didn’t want Abigail to suffer because her husband was an idiot.
Another image of her flashed through his mind. The one he avoided replaying.
I found her crying in the corridor.
Till then, for him, she was a whirlwind of fast wit and no regard or fear for him. The woman he saw in the corridor was vulnerable. She could easily supress and handle defiance. But that glimpse of defencelessness was confusing at best.
“Oh, Leo,” Edwin cut through his memories. “The girl needed an umbrella, and you raised a shield. I hope you know what you are doing.”
After a very long time, Leo wasn’t so sure he knew what he was doing. The plan was sound. The execution was proving maddeningly personal.
CHAPTER 5
A night at the Opera
The note arrived with formality that morning. The carriage with the Duke’s crest stopped outside their manor, a valet with formal attire walked to her door and a note in heavy paper, the same crest and his handwriting, was delivered to her in a silver tray. To Prim it was as if receiving a death sentence.
“I would like to escort Miss Jenkins to the opera tonight. My carriage will be there at 8 PM. L.”
L. As in Losing sanity. As in Laying in ruins. Or Lamentable life choices. Prim held the note as her family fussed around in the room like headless chickens.
“This is the best outcome one could possibly hope for!” Her father triumphed.
“A Duke. In the family. And not just any Duke. He is one of the richest and most powerful men in the country,” her mother listed his accomplishments.
