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Halmesbury snorted, trying not to laugh. “An apropos manner for such an accomplished rogue to be caught.”

“Rogue no more. Laugh, if you will, but she is a unique and intriguing woman.”

Halmesbury frowned. “And my Annabel was not?”

Richard grimaced. It was a fair question, one he had asked himself countless times since meeting Sophia. Why had he not changed his ways when he had asked Annabel for her hand in marriage? His cousin was his closest friend, apart from his brother, and the memory of that failure still lingered, even after nearly two years.

“I … I was not ready to change then,” he admitted, his voice low. “I was dishonest with myself and incapable of forming a true connection with her. You made the right choice when you stepped in. Annabel deserved better—she deserved you.”

Halmesbury leaned back in his chair, astonished. Richard squirmed, unsure what to say next. “Well, it would seem quite a change has been wrought since I saw you last?”

“I have been meeting with the women I wronged and setting matters to right with them. In fact … I met with Caroline Brown and made matters right with her.”

“The maid whom Annabel … witnessed you with?” Richard gave a nod. “Annabel will be pleased. She has expressed worry about the girl from time to time. They were apparently close.”

Richard stuck a finger behind his tight collar, attempting to ease the pressure restricting his breathing. This was so dashed awkward to discuss with the husband of the woman he had wronged so unjustly. He caught the moment Halmesbury took pity and changed the subject.

“Tell me about your wife?”

Richard blew out a breath in relief. “She is feisty and intelligent. And more direct than I expected. We have experienced an outrageous few days, but the countess has shown great composure and presence of mind. I have met few women so impressive …” He stopped, not wishing to reference Annabel again. “But now I fear I may have put her in danger when I married her.”

Looking round to ensure no one was within earshot, and appreciating the duke’s foresight in ordering the drinks so that the servers did not hover close by, Richard quickly filled his cousin in on the events of the past few days. There was much to discuss, including the discovery that he had fathered a natural born son who had arrived in his home, and that someone had placed a threatening note in his pocket, most likely at the Lawson musicale. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair to hear what the duke would advise.

“So, you have found a woman you can love.”

Richard straightened up, knocking against the table and nearly upsetting the untouched drinks. “I admire her. With her help, I believe I can remain on the path to regain my honor. I did not mention love.”

Halmesbury stared at Richard without a word. After a deep silence, he spoke. “You admire the woman. It is my understanding from our last meeting that overhearing her at the Astley ball prompted you to begin this quest you are on. You are attracted to her, and you appear very concerned with her well-being. It is not love?”

Richard shook his head in denial. His family history proved that Balfours were incapable of love. The only one in his family who had possessed the capacity to love was his mother, but she had had no Balfour blood in her veins. Love had broken her heart and contributed to her death. Love was a foolish endeavor.

“Nevertheless, I brought you a wedding gift.” The duke placed a small leather-bound volume on the table.

Richard picked it up. “Poems of Wedded Bliss?”

“The author is Lord John Pettigrew. Do you remember him from Oxford?” Richard nodded. “John’s writing is the reason I met Annabel. The reason I was ready to risk marrying again after the death of my first wife. Since his own marriage two years ago, he has published his advice on marriage in the form of some very fine poetry. The poems contain exceptional advice about maintaining a happy marriage. The importance of honesty and such. I highly recommend reading it.”

Richard’s agitation grew with each mention of the duke’s wife, the spirited yet sheltered noblewoman who had ended their engagement after discovering him in an indiscreet moment with her maid. Unwilling to linger on the painful memory, he quickly shifted the conversation, determined to mask his discomfort.

He was not ready to confront his past with Annabel—not yet. The weight of shame over his behavior, both then and afterward, pressed heavily on him, making it difficult to breathe each time her name arose.

“Thank you.” Richard put the small volume in one of his pockets and removed the note from another.

“The matter of the note, it is quite pressing. Sophia, and even Ethan, may be at risk. I have increased security, but I must take stronger action to protect them.”

The duke nodded. “I understand. You feel the responsibility of your new family.”

Family? He now had … family? To protect and safeguard against the threats of the world around him. He shook his head in disbelief. He had not made that connection until the duke voiced it, but a wife and a son waited for him at home. His need to defend them from this fresh threat filled him with resolve.

“May I see the note?”

Richard unfolded it to stare down at the ominous words inked on the page. So few words, yet so much meaning contained within the simplicity of two sentences.

You enjoy stealing the loved ones of other men. Perhaps someone should steal yours?

The duke pulled a face. “The note implies that you interfered in loving relationships?”

Richard was indignant. “Never.”