cannot involve yourself in this in any manner that makes it worse than it already is.”
And neither could Ash.
Tresham finished his drink and set the glass down on the table with a thunk. “I’m supposed to be the sensible one. But then, I’m selling most of this club to you two. How sensible was that?”
“Very sensible,” Sycamore said. “We’re making you pots of money to go with the barrels and trout ponds worth you already have.”
“Della will be a spinster now,” Tresham said, and Ash sensed they’d reached the heart of the dilemma. “She’s the only Haddonfield yet unmarried. They’ve all been trying to fire her off—even Theo has tried to help—but to no avail. Now Chastain has botched an elopement, and Della will suffer the consequences. Nobody will marry her.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t want to be married,” Sycamore said.
“Then why elope with Witless Chastity?” Tresham snapped. “That was a desperate measure, indeed, and now she’s to be an old maid.”
Ash picked up the discarded brandy glass and set it on the sideboard. “She will not be an old maid. Della is lovely, charming, smart, kind, funny, and quite well connected. You are making too much of bad moment.”
Sycamore sent him a curious look. “This is more than a bad moment. She spent most of the night in the same room with Chastain at the inn in Alconbury. That news was quietly galloping up and down the bridle paths this morning in the park. I discredited the rumor with vigorous disbelief, but it’s as Tresh says: Lady Della has had no offers, and Chastain is not much of a prize. The appearances are dire.”
If Ash could have beaten himself soundly at that moment, he would have. Lady Della had quite possibly discouraged many offers while waiting for a proposal from Ash himself.
“This is not dire,” he said. “The necessary steps are simple. The Little Season is underway. We will treat Lady Della to a show of support, mustering a phalanx of eligibles to stand up with her. She will carry on as if the gossip is just that. Chastain will learn discretion in a violent school if need be, and come spring, some other scandal will have everyone’s attention.”
“It’s a plan,” Sycamore said, in tones that suggested it was a laughably stupid plan.
“And if this plan doesn’t work?” Tresham asked, “then may I part Chastain from his pizzle?”
“If the plan doesn’t work, then I will marry Della myself.”
Sycamore for once had nothing to say, while Tresham looked mightily relieved. Ash could make this offer because he was sure to a confirmed certainty that he was the last man Della Haddonfield would ever agree to marry.
* * *
Order your copy of My Heart’s True Delight and read on for an excerpt from The Truth About Dukes!
Excerpt — The Truth About Dukes
Robert, Duke of Rothhaven, is renewing an old acquaintance with Lady Constance Wentworth. His brother is marrying her sister, though Robert first met Constance years ago under trying circumstances. He’s delighted that she’s called upon him, though his circumstances are still, in a way, quite trying…
* * *
“Walk with me to the orchard.” Lady Constance did not offer Robert an invitation, she issued him an order—and in his own garden, no less.
“I have not been to the orchard in years.” Robert inventoried his reaction to the prospect of leaving the walled garden, and found dread, anxiety, and resentment. Next to those predictable nuisances was a growing impatience with his own limitations. “I might well fail to complete journey.”
“This time you might not, but eventually, you will.” Lady Constance marched to the end of the garden where the door in the wall had once upon a time loomed in Robert’s mind like a portal to the edge of the world.
She kept right on going, and once again, he followed her. Months ago, on a foggy autumn morning, he’d begun experimenting with what lay beyond the garden door, navigating as far as the river. He left the garden only when the mist was so heavy as to obscure anything like a horizon. The thicker the fog, the better he liked it.
A world where he could see only a dozen feet ahead—and could not be seen himself beyond those dozen feet—had suited him splendidly. This sunny spring day, with damned birds chirping and an arrogant hare loping off toward the river, had no appeal at all.
“Come,” Lady Constance said, extending her hand. “We will speak of the project you invited me here to discuss.”
Robert winged