“Della will pose as your betrothed as you reenter Society,” Sarah answered. She frowned, tilting her head. “But that is what is puzzling me, my lord. Why do you have to do this in the first place?” She spread her hands out in an inclusive gesture. “From what I can see, you have no need of Society. Unless you want to settle down and raise a family? In which case having Della on your arm would be a strong impediment.” That last part was spoken in a dry tone of voice.

“Just what I am hoping for,” the viscount replied. “My cousin is the Duke of Northam. And he—” He paused as he took a deep breath. He looked pained as he spoke again, and he stroked the kitten’s head for a moment or two before speaking. “My cousin is ill, and it seems I am his heir. He has insisted that I learn the ways of the dukedom before I inherit, which means reentering Society, among other things.”

“But why?” Della asked, struck by Sarah’s question. “I’m certain there are recluse dukes off somewhere, not having to bother with Society at all. Why do you have to?”

Lord Stanbury resettled on the sofa, a considering look on his face. “Frederick said that was part of it. That if I am not at least on reasonable terms with my fellow aristocrats that they will block anything I try to do. Not only that, but that they might bring up my unorthodox past. They can’t take away my title, but they can meddle in my finances. Put restrictions on how I live my life. And I don’t want to spend time or money fighting them. The estate is in reasonable condition, but there are needed improvements, and Frederick has been too ill to oversee it all. He needs the support of others to improve things.” He swallowed. “Frederick has always wanted things to improve. It’s just too bad that Frederick couldn’t improve himself. So I have to do whatever Frederick wants. I—I owe him.”

There was more there, of course. But it wasn’t her place to pry, just for her to be on his arm as he did whatever it was he felt he had to do.

“I am so sorry about your cousin,” Della said. She went to sit on the sofa beside him, resisting the urge to pat his arm or some other compassionate gesture. He would probably bristle at that kind of reaction. So would she, in that situation. They definitely were more similar than she wanted to admit. “I understand your family loyalty.” She glanced at Sarah. “I have it myself,” she said with a smile, which Sarah returned.