“Shall we sit?” Nick suggested to the sister still loosely on his arm. Lady Emily became engrossed in feeding the ducks over by the water, John withdrew to a discreet distance, and Nick found himself relatively alone with the lady who’d kept him up half the night.

“Let’s take the bench,” Lady Leah said. “This is a day so lovely one wants simply to be still and drink it in, to save it up.”

“Such wistfulness,” Nick said as he lowered himself beside her. “Do you fear we’ll have no more such days?”

“The future is at best unpredictable,” Lady Leah said quietly. “For example, who could have predicted we’d cross paths twice in twenty-four hours?”

Pleasure—and relief—welled. “I wasn’t sure I was supposed to acknowledge that other, equally delightful meeting.”

“I hadn’t thought to ever see you again.” She was smiling as she said it, a soft, inwardly pleased curving of full lips.

Nick let himself bask in that smile and in the memory of those soft, delectable lips, until his blood began to stir in unmentionable places. “Everybody sees me. I am too big to sneak anywhere. What you hadn’t thought was to kiss me again.”

“My lord.” The frown was back in force. “We are in public.”

“Private enough.” Nick knew exactly where the footman stood, and the younger sister, and that the breeze put both upwind of this surprising conversation. “If the weather allows it tomorrow, may I meet you here again?”

“Whyever would you want to do that?” Leah’s voice was even, but a slight shift in her expression suggested Nick’s request did not meet with her approval.

Nor his own, exactly, but he’d puzzle that out later. “I have put a few things in train you need to know about,” Nick said, purposely keeping his gaze on Emily and the honking, quacking gaggle paddling about before her.

“What could you possibly be up to that would affect me, my lord?”

Nick grinned, despite his attempt to emulate a fellow just enjoying the weather. “You sound like my grandmother, all starch and vinegar. I’m going to relieve you of your intended’s offer.”

Beside him, Leah went still in the way she had the previous night. Not just still physically, but mentally.

“Has it occurred to you,” she said, her voice very low, “Hellerington may be replaced by something worse?”

“What could be worse than being wife to a disgusting old man who will likely give you diseases you cannot recover from?” Nick’s own tone had become the least bit clipped, and he was rewarded with a sharp intake of Leah’s breath.

“Being his mistress,” she said, so quietly Nick had to lean toward her to hear her.

Silence, while Nick considered the horror she’d just admitted. Her father wasn’t content to marry her off; he must end his daughter’s life in illness and disgrace as well. No man who called himself father should be free to perpetrate such misery on his daughter.

“That would be evil,” Nick said. “And I shall not allow it.”

From the window of his first-floor suite, Gerald Lindsey, ninth Earl of Wilton, had watched his two daughters link arms and stroll off toward the park. Well, his daughter and that creature his wife had presented to him. He wasn’t pleased with the amount of time Emily spent with Leah, but Emily liked her older sister, and as long as they both dwelled under his roof, it was an association the earl could closely monitor. Soon enough, he’d see Leah taken off his hands, and if he played his cards right, Leah’s marriage would foot the cost of Emily’s come out and wedding.

A scratching at the door interrupted his plans for Emily.

“Enter.”

The upstairs chambermaid bobbed a deep curtsy. “My lord.”

“Well?”

“She danced with a Lord Valentine Windham,” the maid said, careful to keep her gaze on the floor. “And described him to her sister as tall, green-eyed, and very much a gentleman.”

“He’s also very much Moreland’s only unwed surviving son and legendarily besotted with his music. Leah will never get an offer from that one. What other confidences did the ladies exchange over their morning tea?”

“In the course of the evening, Lady Leah was introduced to a Lord Reston, my lord. She described him as grand, tall, and fit, like an old-style Viking, and well mannered. His father is the Earl of Bellefonte, and I gather from the conversation, Reston is the heir.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing, my lord. The ladies were anxious to enjoy the sunny weather.”

“Go.”

He waited until the door closed before he let his features compose themselves into a frown. Reston? Bellefonte’s heir? But nothing of old Hellerington, who was desperate enough to pay handsomely for a titled bride of childbearing age?

Wilton lowered himself into the chair behind his estate desk and tried to dredge up details on the Bellefonte title. All he could recall was that the present holder of the title had been a younger son, serving in the military or diplomatic corps, and not particularly concerned with the earldom. There were a fair number of offspring, like a bunch of bloody farming Hanoverians. He scrawled a note to his man of business and rang for a footman.

Hellerington was welcome to Leah as far as Wilton was concerned. Yes, the man was a dissolute, sick scoundrel, but that only made it easier to toss the ungrateful bitch into his arms. Hellerington had been nothing if not patient, and in his own devious way, trustworthy. Still, business was business, and if this Reston fellow were interested, then it was simply prudent to entertain an offer from him.

Hellerington was desperate, but he wasn’t particularly wealthy, and wealth was one thing Wilton respected more than he wanted free of his late wife’s bastard.

“You have no say in the matter of my betrothal.”

Leah ground her words out, while the great length of Lord Reston to all appearances lounged beside her on the park bench, and Emily cavorted with the ducks like the schoolgirl she was. “And while you are no doubt well-intended, my lord, I must ask you to turn your attention to some other matter. My father will do as he sees fit. He is a peer of the realm, as he frequently reminds all and sundry. You cannot gainsay him. My brothers have tried to thwart him, and it has gone hard for them as a result.”

Reston shrugged broad, heavily muscled shoulders clad in excellent tailoring. “Your brothers have to live with him. I can have you spirited off to family holdings in Ireland, and your father won’t find you. How old are you?”

Damn him for the casual rescue he offered. “Five-and-twenty years.”

“So your father cannot tell you where to go, or with whom. If you consented to some travel, it would not be kidnapping.”

“I will not consent,” Leah said. “He has already threatened to cut off my brother without a penny and has reduced Darius’s quarterly funds to a pittance, as it is.”

“Let me help you,” his lordship rumbled. He shifted his tone, imbued it with a lazy sensuality that sent tremors of memory through low places in Leah’s body. “I ask nothing of you, only that you let me help you, and you might as well.” He stood and tipped his hat. “I’m going to whether you like it or not. A pleasure, Lady Leah.”

He ambled over to the water to take his leave of Emily, showing her the same courtesy he would an older lady. She blushed and smiled, flattered, no doubt, that a titled lord would pass the time of day with her. Watching the tableau, Leah had an astonishing thought:

If Reston married Emily, then Leah could dwell in safety with her sister. As a member of the family, Reston would be able to provide a home for Leah, and the earl would have to allow it.

And so what if the most memorable kiss Leah had experienced had been with her sister’s prospective spouse?

Leah rose. “Lord Reston!”

“My lady?” He was at her side in a few long-legged strides.