What a Duke Dares (Sons of Sin 3)

“Leath should thank us for lancing the infection at the heart of his house.”

Jonas’s laugh was grim. His humor tended toward the black. “You know as well as I do that Leath wants to rip out your liver because you made everything public. Gentlemen handle scandal between themselves.”

“Fairbrother’s evil extended beyond the scope of a quiet handshake.”

“We didn’t give Leath the option. I suspect he particularly resents our failure to contact him before involving the authorities.”

“Are you saying his campaign is justified?”

Jonas shrugged. “I’m saying that a scandal of this magnitude so close to a man who’s spent his life angling for political influence has done damage that the powerful marquess won’t forgive in a hurry. Or allow to go unrequited.”

“Let Leath maneuver. Nobody crosses me lightly.”

The arrogant declaration, as Cam should have expected, won no points. “You might find Leath’s enmity cuts closer to home than a few business schemes going astray.”

Even knowing him as he did, Cam still sometimes found Jonas difficult to read. “What do you mean?”

“The word around Town is that Harry Thorne pursues Leath’s sister.”

“I didn’t know Leath had a sister.”

Another flash of sardonic humor. “She’s new this season. Pretty blond chit who’s got the fortune hunters in a lather.”

Cam didn’t smile. “I can’t see Harry Thorne playing fortune hunter.”

“The tattle is that he fancies himself in love. He’s chased her all over London making sheep’s eyes.”

Cam was relieved. For a moment there, he thought Jonas might have some genuinely bad news. “He’s a pup. He’ll get over it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jonas said without great conviction. “The girl’s making sheep’s eyes back, although Leath’s earmarked her for Desborough.”

“Desborough must be forty if he’s a day,” Cam said in surprise. “Leath never struck me as a domestic tyrant.”

“This scandal has shaken him.”

Cam frowned. “It’s unjust to blame Leath for an uncle who should have been hanged years ago.”

Jonas’s lips twisted with old bitterness that not even his current happiness had quite extinguished. “I hardly need to point out that when it comes to sin at the highest levels, people are too eager digging up dirt to worry about fairness.”

Of course Cam knew that. So did Jonas and Richard. All had been branded bastards. All had countered the shame as best they could. Jonas was probably the luckiest of them all. The world now acknowledged his legitimacy.

Cam had given up hope of unraveling the tangled threads surrounding his parentage. All three players in the drama were long dead. Even if they weren’t, hard facts were impossible to establish. When Cam had finally summoned courage to ask his mother who had fathered him, she’d claimed ignorance. His mother was a practiced liar, but on the subject of which Rothermere had planted the future duke in her womb, Cam had believed her.

Jonas went on. “If Leath wants to lead the country, he needs to keep his nose clean—even at a remove. Neville Fairbrother’s crimes cast doubt on the entire line.”

Grimly Cam remembered Harry’s insistence on speaking to Pen at the wedding. Had that been about the Fairbrother chit? This unpleasantness with Leath was complicated enough. The last thing Cam needed was his wife encouraging two young fools to play Romeo and Juliet.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Harry slouched against the back wall of Oldhaven House’s ballroom and moodily surveyed the crowd. Returning to the place where he’d met Sophie, memories inevitably assailed him. Since leaving for Northumberland, she’d managed three letters, each promising eternal love. All three rested in the pocket nearest his heart.

The concert was packed to the gunwales. Although the famous Dutch soprano and the Italian tenor had sung their lungs out, tonight’s principal entertainment was always going to be the new Duchess of Sedgemoor.

His sister, Penelope, who sat in the front row displaying less animation than the average statue.

Harry had caught a few comments before the speakers noticed the duchess’s brother within earshot. Surprisingly, most people had expressed grudging approval. Along with the inevitable dollop of spite. His sister’s elevation to the highest levels wouldn’t pass without a serving of jealousy.

When Harry was sixteen, he and Peter had met Pen in Rome. He recalled an independent woman widely admired for her sparkle. Even as a self-centered adolescent, Harry had recognized that all the men were mad for her. Penelope had remained strangely unaware of her effect.