The duke lifted his head. “Tell me what has happened.”

There was desperation in his voice, a bare emotion that Nick recognized as more human, more feeling than he had ever seen the man show. Suddenly, there was no place for him and Isabel in this room. Shifting his attention to Georgiana, he saw the tears well in her eyes, the subtle, uncontrollable trembling of her lower lip, and he was moved to act.

He met Isabel’s discomfited gaze, saw that she, too, recognized the private nature of this moment. “It is time the two of you speak without an audience,” he said, crossing the room to her side and ushering her to the door. “We will wait for you outside.”

Neither sibling responded, remaining still as Nick and Isabel exited the room.

At the sound of the door finding its seat, Isabel spun toward him, concern in her eyes. “She is going to tell him.”

“Yes.”

She began to pace the foyer, lost in thought. He watched as she wrung her hands, the motion unlocking something deep within him. Here was a woman who cared deeply. Who loved powerfully. What would it be like to be on the receiving end of such emotion? Finally, she turned to him again.

“What will he do?”

He took a long moment to think, leaning against the banister of the wide stone staircase that dominated the space. Leighton had always been proper. He’d always been staid and stoic and resistant to change or to anything that might sully his name. He’d always been the type to look down his nose at the baseness of others. When the St. John twins had received news of a half sister arrived from Italy earlier that year, it had not escaped Nick’s attention that Leighton had distanced himself from them at society functions.

He did not like scandal.

And there were few scandals more devastating than a pregnant, unmarried sister.

Isabel was standing mere inches from him, brown eyes wide and worried and beautiful, and his heart ached for her.

“I don’t know what he will do.” He reached out and took her fidgeting hands in his own, clasping them firmly and commanding her attention. “But whatever happens, the girl will be safe. I swear that to you.”

She searched his gaze for a long moment. “I want to believe you. So very much.”

But she didn’t.

She was not willing to trust him again. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

And that truth hurt him more than he could have imagined.

“Isabel—” He did not know what he could say to change her mind, and so it was likely best that the door to the study opened then, drawing their attention.

Leighton stood in the massive doorway, stone-faced.

He had not taken the news well.

Isabel was already moving toward the study, eager to get to Georgiana, to comfort the girl. Leighton’s words stopped her in her tracks. “I should like to speak with you both.”

Isabel—strong, brave girl—met the duke’s cold stare. “Your sister, Your Grace. She needs me.”

If possible, Leighton’s face became more unmoving. “I have no sister. Not today. And the woman in that room”—he paused, and in that brief silence, Nick understood the powerful battle raging within his friend—“she can wait. If you wish to remain mistress of this place, Lady Isabel, you will hear me. Immediately.”

There was an unpleasant, imperious threat in the words, one that Isabel knew better than to ignore. She squared her shoulders, not taking her gaze from the duke. With a firm “Certainly, Your Grace,” she led the way to the library.

Once inside, Leighton moved to the fireplace, staring down into the darkened hearth. There was a long silence, then: “I imagine that mine is not the only family that would be rocked by scandal if this place were found.”

Isabel took a step toward him. “No, Your Grace.”

Nick admired her for her truth in that moment.

Leighton looked over his shoulder at her briefly. “There is a part of me that wants to bring this house to rubble.”

She rocked back on her heels at the venom in his voice. She turned to Nick, and he registered the silent plea in her gaze. He must defuse the situation. He moved, leaning against a nearby pillar in an approximation of calm. “It is not the house, Leighton. And you know it.”

“Without this house, she would have been—”

“Without this house, she would still have been in her predicament,” Nick pointed out, drawing the duke’s hateful glare. “She simply would have had nowhere to run. You should thank Isabel for taking her in.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think that is going to happen quite yet.” The duke turned then, meeting Isabel’s gaze. “The way I see it, Lady Isabel, I have two options. The first, I bring the magistrate down upon your head and take the scandal I have coming now.” Isabel did not respond, remaining stoic under the angry barrage. “The second, I let her stay her. She bears the child. And the scandal comes later. At a time I cannot predict. Because you cannot reasonably protect yourself or your residents, and it is only a matter of time before everything is made public.” He turned to Nick then. “If you were in my position, St. John, which would you choose? ”

Nick felt Isabel’s gaze on him, knew that she was willing him to choose the second option. He also knew that any reasonable person would choose the first. If scandal were to rock a family, it was best that it do so at a time of the family’s choosing, so that they were prepared, so that they could arm themselves against the gossipmongers.

But there was nothing reasonable about this situation for Nick. He wanted Isabel safe. He wanted her girls safe. And there was only one way to ensure such a thing.