Chapter 10

Rage exploded through Dominic's body.

He had hoped Leonora would break off their engagement; he had acknowledged as much to the twins yesterday. The last thing

any man wanted was a reluctant bride.

But abruptly marrying another man was grotesquely improper and would open both of them up to unpleasant blather. Leonora should

have explained her feelings, whereupon he would have expressed graceful, untruthful regrets and placed an announcement in

the Times , informing all interested parties that the wedding was off.

Instead, she made a fool of him by eloping while they were still betrothed.

A new wave of anger broke over him. "Whom did my fiancée marry?" he demanded.

"Leonora would never elope!" her sister cried at the same moment. Torie's eyes were round with shock. At least she hadn't schemed to bring him low.

"Leonora did not elope," Sir William clarified. "Married by special license this morning to a decrepit old goat—entirely your fault ," he thundered.

"Not Lord Bufford!" Torie gasped.

Dominic blinked. His fiancée had run off with an elderly man with three dead wives in his past. Unbelievable.

Still—he felt better. Leonora must be deranged. If asked, his only comment would be well wishes for the newly married couple.

Of course, now he had to start the entire process over. It had taken him several months to find a lady who could be a true partner and offer an intelligent assessment of current events. Most ladies fell into Torie's camp. Granted, she kept the nursery laughing with her wry observations about Odysseus's adventures, but that wasn't the same as sharing lucid analysis.

"Aye, she's Lady Bufford now," Sir William said heavily. "Presented me with a special license and threatened to run to Gretna

Green if I didn't accompany them to a chapel. To think I should see such a day! Bufford is well enough in his own way, but

aged. Older than I am." He tugged his vest down over his belly.

"Sir William, I offer my very best wishes for your daughter's married life," Dominic said, realizing a beat too late that

given Bufford's dead spouses, his congratulations could have been better worded. "I shall take my leave."

"Lord Kelbourne, may I say goodbye to the twins?" Torie asked, stepping toward him, her hands twisting together. "Please?"

"What?" Shock turned his voice to a growl. "Why would you say goodbye?"

"You are no longer a family member," Torie explained. Her eyes seemed twice as large as normal. "It would be most improper

for me to visit the house of an unmarried man."

Of course, that was true.

But Torie had never bothered about being chaperoned before. He felt an instinctive dislike of the idea that he wouldn't meet

her regularly, not to mention sharing an impromptu meal or two.

"No one could imagine you compromised by visiting a nursery," he stated. "The three of you formed strong bonds during my betrothal to your sister. Florence and Valentine wait every day for your arrival, and they would be heartbroken never to see you again."

"My daughter is no nanny to your misbegotten wards," Sir William snarled. "Leonora never should have aired that crack-boned

scheme to send Torie to the country to care for your children. Torie shall not enter your house again, now that you've chased

off Leonora." His thick brows drew together. "Put my darling daughter off so much that she married a geriatric Scotsman!"

"I do not think of Miss Victoria as a nanny."

"You have used her as one," Sir William retorted. "No daughter of mine will dwindle into a spinster, caring for orphans."

He turned to Torie. "Which reminds me that I accepted a proposal on your behalf last night at the club. Didn't have a chance

to tell you."

Torie's mouth fell open. "You did? Without asking me?"

"No need for that, since it came from the Duke of Queensberry. No one refuses a duke. The ton will be ‘Your Gracing' you within

the month. I specified a short betrothal," Sir William said smugly, muttering, "Nanny my arse," as he knocked back a large

swallow of brandy.

A feeling akin to panic shot through Dominic's body. He barely stopped himself from barking a refusal, though he had no right

to do so. The Duke of Queensberry was a decent fellow but not right for Torie.

"He doesn't mind my illiteracy?" Torie asked.

Dominic hated the catch in her voice, the uncertainty.

He'd been taught that intelligence was evidenced by book-learning. Val needed to learn Greek in order to take his place in society. But Dominic was beginning to understand that Torie was an exception to the rule.

Sir William nodded. "Said you were the prettiest, silliest, most affected husband-hunting butterfly he'd ever met, and he

couldn't wait to make you his duchess. Doesn't give a damn about whether you can read. In fact, he said that he'd prefer a

wife who didn't neglect him for a novel, since I gather his sisters are avid readers. Haven't I told you that the right man

would come along?"

Queensberry called Torie a "butterfly"? Not to mention silly and affected. Unfamiliar emotion was churning in Dominic's stomach.

He felt ferociously protective, which made sense. They'd spent so much time together in the nursery that she was akin to a

little sister.

"Best be off with you, Kelbourne," Torie's father said, moving behind his desk and sitting down. "We have a wedding to plan.

Bit tricky, given the scandal that's about to break. I must let Queensberry know." He pulled a piece of stationery from a

stack on top of his desk.

Dominic's pulse was pounding in his ears; he was caught in a maelstrom of fury, as fierce as he had ever felt in the House

of Lords. He leaned over the desk. "What's the going price for a bride?"