“I don’t know, Nicholas.” Val made another try for the teapot, and this time poured himself a cup immediately. “Devlin was raised with us, at least from the age of five on. Their Graces love him as if he were one of their legitimate sons. They saw to it he had the best of everything, and bought him his colors when Bart joined up, no questions asked. But he still felt second-rate, as if he were on probation…”

Val stopped and glared at his tea.

Rather than allow him to maunder on, Nick took pity on his friend. “Your point?”

“Your father isn’t solely responsible for the fact that you and Ethan haven’t made much progress recovering your friendship,” Val said. “Devlin was stuck, thinking himself unnecessary to us, when he could not have been more wrong.”

“But my family is not the Windhams,” Nick said. “We have no duchess humanizing us, no matriarch to smooth over Bellefonte’s many rough edges. Ethan is not necessary to us—he will not allow himself to be—and I’m not sure there is an us.”

Val smiled, a sweet smile the ladies found irresistible. “You are ridiculous. The Haddonfields sport a great deal of ‘us.’ Beckman has followed you all over southern England. George and Dolph can’t get a grade on an exam without you knowing about it. Your grandmother knows before your head hits the pillow exactly how many dances you stood up for and with whom. You remember every sister’s birthday, and her favorite flowers and colors. What is Beckman up to, by the way?”

Nick scowled at his plate, from which a significant portion of eggs and toast had disappeared, Nick knew not how. “Still rusticating. The earl sent him down to Portsmouth to look in on Three Springs for Grandmother. I don’t think he’s in any hurry to take up Town life, and I can give him one of my estates in Kent when I’m forced to reside at Belle Maison.”

But not both estates. Beckman could have Clover Down. Title to Blossom Court would always remain in Nick’s hands, no matter what.

“You’re frowning again,” Val said. “I hadn’t taken you for such an introspective fellow.”

“Must be the full moon. You up for a trip to Kent?”

“Of course, if there’s a piano to be played along the way.”

“I’ll send the requisite notes to my staff.” Nick felt a lift to his mood at the prospect of leaving London. “And ring for more tea, would you? Somebody drank the entire damned pot while you were picking my feeble brains.”

Leah did not hurry toward the park, but oh, Lord, she wanted to. She’d tossed away half the night, thinking she should send Reston a note telling him to leave her in peace. Or a note telling him today did not suit, or a note telling him…

Sending notes safely was no more possible now in Wilton House than it had been eight years ago, so she was going to wave him off in person. Emily didn’t want to marry the man, and Leah had to admit the girl had a point. Reston was the largest specimen of humanity Leah had ever seen; he had muscles on top of muscles, and such tremendous height. For the first time, it occurred to her that not just her father’s servants, but anybody in the park would know she’d met with Reston. Between his height, his golden hair, and his gentleman’s manners, he was that distinctive.

Gads. What had she been thinking?

“Good morning.” Reston’s pleasant baritone sounded to her left when she’d been on the bench beside the pond for only a few minutes. “Lady Leah? Yes, it is you. We met earlier this week, I believe, along with your dear sister, Lady Emily. May I join you?”

Leah nodded and found herself once again sitting beside the compilation of muscle, charm, and masculine appeal that was Viscount Reston.

“I sent my footman off to purchase some bread for the ducks,” Leah said, her tone clipped. “We haven’t privacy for long.”

“Then I will reserve the flirtation and flattery for later. Has Hellerington called upon Wilton yet?”

“He has an appointment Friday next,” Leah said, hating the catch in her voice and the truth of her words.

Reston stretched out long, long legs, all nonchalance and polished riding boots. “Not until then? That is all the time in the world. I might be calling on your papa by then myself.”

Leah closed her eyes, the lovely day and the handsome man at such variance with the topic under discussion as to make her queasy. “My lord, I am going to ask you again to desist from this course. Hellerington is devious and determined, as is the earl. They can lock me away without a word to anybody, and Wilton has threatened as much in the past.”

“Was that before or after he killed your fiancé in cold blood?” Reston inquired, keeping his eyes trained on the ducks, his hands propped on the golden head of his walking stick.

The words, so casually uttered, sent a blast of winter through the spring day. “You know about that?”

“I know your brothers also got you to the Continent for a couple years while your father’s ire cooled,” he added. “From what I hear, the young man was of good family and had honorable intentions. There was no cause for a duel.”

“There was not, but you may take from my experience that Wilton will stoop very nearly to murder to have his way. I do not think to thwart him with impunity.”

“You’ve considered it, though.” Reston slanted her another look. “You’ve considered running away, eloping with someone else, going into service. Why haven’t you done it?”

That he’d reasoned this accurately on so little acquaintance should have made Leah uneasy. Instead, it provoked her to confidences she ought not to be sharing. “He’s promised to take out any of my misdeeds on Darius,” Leah said. “I don’t know what hold he has over Darius, though much of it is financial, but I will not be the cause of my brother’s ruination.”

Reston rubbed his chin with a hand that should have been sporting gloves. Large hands but capable of a gentle touch. “I see.”

“You’ll leave me in peace, then?”

“My intention was never to disturb your peace, but rather to preserve it.”

“That is not an answer,” Leah bit out. “My lord, you are meddling with my life and the lives of the people I care about. You have no right to do this.”

“And your papa has no right to sell you to that lecher,” Reston rejoined, his voice losing its polite veneer.

“I am his daughter,” Leah reminded him. “He has every right.”

“You have attained your majority.”

“I am an unmarried female. I cannot make contracts, cannot buy land, cannot hire or fire my own employees, cannot own a business unless left to me by my family. I have no salable skills save governessing, and any family that hired me would be subject to the earl’s displeasure.”

Blond brows twitched closer to a lordly nose. “You have thought this through.”

“He watches my pin money,” Leah went on, “so I cannot save but a few pennies on rare occasion. He keeps the jewelry given me by my mother or brothers locked away, so I cannot pawn it. My old dresses are taken from my wardrobe, and the same with my shoes, boots, and so forth.”

“You are a prisoner,” Reston concluded, temper evident in his tone.

“I am a daughter,” Leah retorted, “who has earned her father’s disfavor.”

“I am holding in my left hand two gold sovereigns,” Reston said, his tone of voice reverting to deceptive evenness. “When I assist you to rise, you will slip them into your glove.”

Leah felt tears threaten. “My lord, don’t do this. I cannot start a life on two gold sovereigns.”

“You cannot,” he agreed, shifting his walking stick to the side. “But you can hire a cabbie to get you to your brother’s, or to my town house.” He relayed his exact address to her, all the while appearing to be studying the ducks and making small talk, even as he also told her how to reach his grandmother, Lady Warne, and that he’d monitor the park Monday and Tuesday mornings.