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A reluctant smile tugged at the side of Torie’s mouth. “I understand. Your Grace, may I introduce Viscount Kelbourne?”

The Duchess of Huntington picked up the monocle pinned to her chest by a ribbon, screwed it in place, and said, “Kelbourne, is it? The unconscionable delay in passing the slavery bill reflects our country’s debased values.”

“I agree,” Dominic said, rather taken aback by the way her monocled eye appeared twice as large as the other.

“Please, let’s go look at the engine,” Florence cried.

“I have a girl just your age whom I’ve been trying to interest in locomotives to no avail,” Her Grace commented. “My son, Silvester, is even worse and pretends they don’t exist.”

A crafty smile spread over Florence’s face. “I would be so grateful if you showed me the engine,” she cooed. “Showed me and my brother, I mean.” Valentine was watching starlings circle overhead. She kicked him in the ankle.

“As would I, Your Grace,” Valentine said, bowing.

“Our guardian, Lord Kelbourne, will entertain Miss Sutton,” Florence announced.

The duchess was likely startled to find herself walking away with two children, but Florence had a way of presenting her wishes in a manner that stifled protest. Dominic regularly found himself doing things he wouldn’t have imagined only months earlier, such as courting a woman who couldn’t read and scowling at men oozing desire for her—at least, until he terrified them by putting a hand on his rapier.

The public had been corralled behind a rope, but Her Grace pulled it back and ushered the children through to greet her husband.

“I hope she keeps Florence’s skirts away from the coal box,” Torie said. She dropped a curtsy. “Lord Kelbourne. It’s a pleasure to see the children outside the nursery.”

He removed his hat and bowed. “Miss Sutton.” The crowd eddied about them, pushing them so close that he could see the raspberry sheen on her lower lip and the black color she’d smudged in a narrow line under her eyelashes. Since he’d warned off lecherous louts, no one was paying them any attention.

“Have you rethought your rejection of my proposal?” Not that he actually had hope, but it was worth a try.

Torie shook her head.

She was trying to work out why the twins had forced Dominic to attend the demonstration. In Torie’s opinion, Florence would only be interested in a locomotive if she added a ghost, turned it into a haunted steam engine, and described it running amok and killing any number of innocent bystanders. Valentine was gazing blankly at the machine, either making up an overwrought sonnet or doing mathematical figures.

Which meant the twins were forcing Dominic to renew his lukewarm proposal.

She summoned up a sympathetic but firm smile. “While I cannot marry you, Lord Kelbourne, I do promise to keep close contact with Florence and Valentine.”

“Dominic,” he corrected her. “Or even Dom, if you please. No one is listening to us. Is betrothal to the Duke of Queensberry standing in your way?” His tone was amiably polite, as if he were offering her a choice between a scone and a lemon tart.

“No, I am refusing you on your own merits,” Torie said, succumbing to irritation. Even a woman being proposed to as payment for ten thousand pounds would prefer her wooer didn’t appear so nonchalant. “Frankly, I don’t understand why you persist in your proposal, given your freely expressed horror after I offered to care for your wards in the country.”

“You offered to ‘take’ them, but they’re my children,” the viscount replied, his eyes sharpening. “No one can take the twins from me.” He took a step closer, but Torie stood her ground. She couldn’t think clearly when he crowded her, but she knew instinctively that she couldn’t quail at all this . . . this maleness.

Standing right in front of her. Throwing himself about and making irrational decisions based on irrationality, looking as bullheaded as an ancient Greek soldier.

His appearance at this event meant that his proposal had nothing to do with the money her father demanded. It was all about Valentine and Florence, who surely missed her. Likely he missed her too, given that in the last few months she had arranged decent menus for the children, ordered new clothing, taught them to paint, and more.

“I can help you find a good nanny,” Torie offered. “Once I’m a duchess, I will spend every morning with the twins again. I miss them horribly.” Relief spread through her as she realized the implications of marriage to Queensberry. A married woman—a duchess!—could certainly remain in contact with orphaned children, even treat them as if they were her own young relatives.

Dominic was staring at her with more attention than he had ever paid her, except perhaps that time when she beat him playing Riddles. He wasn’t used to losing and had started glaring at her with hawk eyes.

“Even a duchess cannot visit the house of an unmarried man without causing a scandal,” he said. “Given my sister’s affairs, I am well aware that gossips eagerly condemn married as well as unmarried women.” The biting note in his voice spoke for itself.

“I shan’t mind a few dents to my reputation,” Torie assured him. “When I am a married woman, no one could claim I was compromised and force us to marry. Don’t you see that it solves our problem, Dominic?” She curled her hand around his forearm, feeling his muscles flex with a little thrill.

His brows drew together, and she dropped her hand.

“Duchesses appear in the gossip columns no matter what they do,” she insisted, falling back a step. “That’s why Leonora decided to become a viscountess.” She snapped her mouth shut.

Too late.

“‘Leonora decided to become a viscountess,’” Dominic echoed, his eyes cooling. “She decided?”