“The tenth earl—the son and grandson of traitors—was raised to a dukedom. I could list you any number of similar tales, from a foreign secretary in this century married to a legendary courtesan, to a duke’s daughter who waited all of two days after her divorce to marry her lover, then two of her children when grown, though half siblings…” Eleanora was regarding him as if he’d begun discoursing in Mandarin. “Society gossiped and whispered, but nobody refused their invitations.”

“And none of that is relevant because I am an auditor, not a duke’s anything.” Eleanora scooted away and took the place beside him. “The situation is hopeless, Elsmore. You mean well, but you cannot marry a woman bound to be a disgraced duchess.”

How obstinate she was, and how wrong. “When you took a look at my books, I was certain you’d fuss, shake your head, and tell me the situation was too complicated to be set to rights.”

Eleanora smoothed her skirts. “I wanted to. Your ledgers were a mare’s nest of inaccuracies, schemes, and incompetence, but numbers can be made to come right. They behave in a predictable fashion.”

“So does polite society, Eleanora, and I am as competent at tallying those books as you are at auditing bank records. I know which hostesses to charm, which charities to support, which MPs to flatter. I know whose daughter to stand up with. I know whose son needs a good word put in with a Cabinet minister. I know exactly which people to invite to the theater or to a dinner party, and I know how to quell gossip with a raised eyebrow.”

She smoothed an index finger along that portion of his anatomy. “You sound so confident.”

Was that relenting he heard in her voice? Hope? “I am very confident. I was not brought up to manage a complicated financial institution, but I was trained to be a duke. Acceptance of our union will take time and there will be talk, but it will be quiet talk. You will dance with me at Almack’s, we will enlist the aid of Walden and his duchess, and they will recruit others to our cause. My entire family will rally to our side, and we will be so very publicly besotted that everybody will know we are a love match.”

He could see the arrows and connections flying across the pages of Debrett’s. The aunties knew everybody, including the dowagers and hostesses who held the real social power in London. Mama had already promised her support, and even allowed that a soupçon of notoriety enlivened all the best family histories.

“We will hint that your grandfather was duped by a scheming wastrel,” he went on, pausing to kiss Eleanora’s hand. “A subtle reference to the truth never hurt the course of true love.”