Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

“Don’t be.” She waved her hand even as her chest continued to ache. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it last night. Sorry I was selfish. “

“You weren’t. Preserving your reputation is natural,” Eliza said. “But now I need you to put that person aside. I’m sorry it has to be you.”

“You’d do the same for me if you could.” The truth made her throat close with emotion.

“He wants to protect you. That is completely obvious. I’m certain you’ll be safe at least.” Eliza whispered; the lines of her face set deeper than usual. Was it regret?

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she replied, her fingers twisting together. She didn’t want her sister to worry now. It was time for Isabella to do her part.

“Isabella.” That’s when she heard Eliza’s voice break. “I’ll help you.”

Isabella shook her head. “You absolutely will not. Only one of us is going to be ruined. My one stipulation for taking all of this on is that you never set foot in the Den of Sins again.”

Chapter Six

Bash sat at his desk at home reviewing several ledgers. Some for the club and some for his dukedom.

He could give his father credit on one account. He’d put in place a system of excellent property managers, solicitors, and barristers. His dukedom was thriving.

A few of his friends had joined the club because they needed the funds. Not him.

He just wished to behave in the most undukely way possible. Was undukely a word? He scratched his chin.

Menace had likely been sent to his office last night by the others. Blasphemy, otherwise known as Blackwater, and Menace both had less successful titles. They saw potential income in Isabella that they likely needed.

He scrubbed his face. Still, he wouldn’t put her or himself at risk by having her at the club.

He rose from his chair to stare out the window of his townhome. Snow had begun to fall, making the January sky bleak and grey.

“Your Grace,” his butler spoke from the door. “You have a visitor.”

“Visitor?” he asked, turning back. “What sort of visitor?”

The man frowned. “A lone female, Your Grace.”

“What does she look like?” But his body had already begun to tense in anticipation.

“Brown hair, brown eyes, tall.” Williams didn’t ask why he’d been instructed to give a physical description. Which was for the best.

“Send her away,” Bash replied, his throat tightening on the words. He didn’t want to, but he needed to. She did funny things to his mind. How had she even known where he lived?

The other man cleared his throat. “She comes with a missive sealed with the Earl of Baxter’s seal, Your Grace. She asked me to give it to you.”

Damn it all to bloody hell. Why was his brother getting involved? He should have realized that’s how she’d known where he lived.

The man held out a tray with the note. Bash sliced it open. Only three words graced the page.

* * *

Hear her out.

* * *

He ran his fingers through his hair, scrubbing at his scalp. Why had he rescued his half-brother anyhow? All the man did was meddle. “Fine,” he finally grunted. “See her up.”

The butler turned and left while Bash paced.

He hated pacing. His father had been a pacer. Of course, he usually yelled as he walked back and forth. Bash had received daily lectures in such a fashion.