“Well, to be fair, it did sound like this evening’s man had it coming.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Ralston stopped, thinking for a long moment. “It shouldn’t be so hard to find him. There can’t be too many aristocrats with a fat lip going around.”

“Even fewer limping off the other injury,” Simon said wryly.

Ralston shook his head. “Where do you think she learned that tactic?”

From the wolves by whom she had clearly been raised.

“I would not deign to guess.”

Silence fell between them, and after a long moment, Ralston sighed and stood. “I do not like to be indebted to you.”

Simon smirked at the confession. “Consider us even.”

The marquess nodded once and headed for the door. Once there, he turned back. “Lucky, isn’t it, that there is a special session this autumn? To keep us all from our country seats?”

Simon met Ralston’s knowing gaze. The marquess did not speak what they both knew—that Leighton had thrown his considerable power behind an emergency bill that could have waited easily for the spring session of Parliament to begin.

“Military preparedness is a serious issue,” Simon said with deliberate calm.

“Indeed it is.” Ralston crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “And Parliament is a welcome distraction from sisters, is it not?”

Simon’s gaze narrowed. “You have never pulled punches with me before, Ralston. There is no need to begin now.”

“I do not suppose I could request your assistance with Juliana?”

Simon froze, the request hanging between them.

Simply tell him no.

“What kind of assistance?”

Not precisely “No,” Leighton.

Ralston raised a brow. “I am not asking you to wed the girl, Leighton. Relax. I could use the extra set of eyes on her. I mean, she can’t go into the gardens of our own home without getting herself attacked by unidentified men.”

Simon leveled Ralston with a cool look. “It appears that the universe is punishing you with a sibling who makes as much trouble as you did.”

“I am afraid you might be right.” A heavy silence fell. “You know what could happen to her, Leighton.”

You’ve lived it.

The words remained unspoken, but Simon heard them, nonetheless.

Still, the answer is no.

“Forgive me if I am not entirely interested in doing you a favor, Ralston.”

Much closer.

“It would be a favor for St. John, as well,” Ralston added, invoking the name of his twin brother—the good twin. “I might remind you that my family has spent quite a bit of energy caring for your sister, Leighton.”

There it was.

The heavy weight of scandal, powerful enough to move mountains.

He did not like having such an obvious weakness.

And it would only get worse.

For a long moment, Simon could not bring himself to speak. Finally, he nodded his agreement. “Fair enough.”

“You can imagine how much I loathe the very idea of asking you for assistance, Duke, but think of how much you will enjoy rubbing it in my face for the rest of our days.”

“I confess, I was hoping not to have to suffer you for so very long.”

Ralston laughed then. “You are a cold-hearted bastard.” He came forward to stand behind the chair he had vacated. “Are you ready, then? For when the news gets out?”

Simon did not pretend to misunderstand. Ralston and St. John were the only two men who knew the darkest of Simon’s secrets. The one that would destroy his family and his reputation if it were revealed.

The one that was bound to be revealed sooner or later.

Would he ever be ready?

“Not yet. But soon.”

Ralston watched him with a cool blue gaze that reminded Simon of Juliana. “You know we will stand beside you.”

Simon laughed once, the sound humorless. “Forgive me if I do not place much weight in the support of the House of Ralston.”

One side of Ralston’s mouth lifted in a smile. “We are a motley bunch. But we more than make up for it with tenacity.”

Simon considered the woman in his library. “That I do not doubt.”

“I take it you plan to marry.”

Simon paused in the act of lifting his glass to his lips. “How did you know that?”

The smile turned into a knowing grin then. “Nearly every problem can be solved by a trip to the vicar. Particularly yours. Who is the lucky girl?”

Simon considered lying. Considered pretending that he hadn’t selected her. Everyone would know soon enough, however. “Lady Penelope Marbury.”

Ralston whistled long and low. “Daughter of a double marquess. Impeccable reputation. Generations of pedigree. The Holy Trinity of a desirable match. And a fortune as well. Excellent choice.”

It was nothing that Simon had not thought himself, of course, but it smarted nonetheless for him to hear it spoken aloud. “I do not like to hear you discuss my future duchess’s merits as though she were prize cattle.”

Ralston leaned back. “My apologies. I was under the impression that you had selected your future duchess as though she were prize cattle.”

The whole conversation was making him uncomfortable. It was true. He was not marrying Lady Penelope for anything other than her unimpeachable background.

“After all, it isn’t as if anyone will believe the great Duke of Leighton would marry for love.”

He did not like the tremor of sarcasm in Ralston’s tone. Of course, the marquess had always known how to irritate him. Ever since they were children. Simon rose, eager to move. “I think I shall fetch your sister, Ralston. It’s time for you to take her home. And I would appreciate it if you could keep your family dramatics from my doorstep in the future.”