Duke of Dishonor (Lords of Scandal 11)

“Why not?” he asked, stepping closer. He needed a chance to woo her and this seemed perfect.

“We’ve not made public appearances to keep the girls safe.”

Menace shook his head. “With the rumors about Abigail, I’m not certain hiding away is a good idea either. It only fuels the gossip. And our king will make quick work of rounding up the thieves. Men have already been dispatched.”

Bash frowned. “True.”

Menace rubbed his chin. “How close are you to a match for Abigail?”

“Close.”

Brandon stepped forward. “I need a bit of time with Emily. Time that does not involve thieves or rushed proposals. I need to convince her that I am a good choice.” He needed time to explain and to convince.

Menace furrowed his brow. “You’re a bloody duke.”

But Bash gave a small smile and then a quick nod of assent. “It turns out when you meet the right woman, she cares less about whether or not you’re a duke and more about whether or not you’re the right man. If you’re going to go then we are all going to go. There will be strength in numbers.”

Brandon gave a quick nod. “That is an excellent idea.”

“And what about Abigail?” Menace asked. “Eliza is beside herself with worry.”

“I’ve come up with a plan that will hopefully satisfy the sisters.” But Bash’s brow furrowed.

Brandon cocked his head to the side even as Menace grunted. “And what plan is that? Will Eliza approve? You know that woman. We’ll hear about it if she doesn’t.”

Bash scrubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Abigail has an offer for marriage.”

“Really? Who? Will it stand even with the scandal?”

“It will stand,” Bash answered, his gaze cast to the floor.

Brandon gave a quick nod. Abigail being cared for made his job to win Emily over easier and drew them one step closer to clearing the obstacles between them.

Tomorrow night he’d woo his prospective bride. And he’d find some way to explain the past to her. He had to. It was their only hope.

Emily stood in the entry of Bash’s home dressed in a pale pink ballgown made of the finest silk. The dress seemed to float about her like a cloud at sunrise.

Her hair had been pulled back in a loose coif with several curled strands trailing about her face and over her shoulders.

She’d never felt more lovely.

Or more nervous.

Her insides fluttered and tiny tingles of anticipation danced along her skin. Was tonight the night that Brandon would propose?

Part of her was thrilled. He was a dream and she’d been fantasizing about him for months. But her hands pressed to her stomach. She’d dreamed of his proposal nearly every night as she drifted off to sleep. It had been romantic, lovely, a fantasy worthy of a man who swooped in and rescued a girl in need.

But their discussions of marriage had been…businesslike. Worse, she’d overheard him say he didn’t wish to wed her. He was only doing so to save her reputation.

Perhaps if she were smarter or braver, she’d inspire more romantic passion. She tapped her chin trying to decide how she might accomplish such an end. What sort of gesture would be bold and romantic? What would her sisters do?

And then she realized. If one of them wanted a man, they’d let him know. Tonight, she’d kiss him.

Next to her, Isabella stood in a lovely gown of blue, Eliza in red, and Abigail in a dusty lilac that made her skin glow.

“Are you certain I should be doing this?” Abigail asked. “I’m going to face an obscene amount of whispering.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bash answered. “You’re in the company of two dukes. Society will have to swallow their opinions.”