Lord Stanbury—or Griffith, since she supposed that their imminent sexual congress would put them on a first-name basis—walked so quickly she had to scurry to keep up. They had left the docks and were in the shopping district now, close to home. He kept her close to his side, his hand clamped on top of hers where it rested on his arm.

“My lord!”

He kept moving as quickly as before.

“My lord!” the voice said again. She nudged him with her elbow, and she heard him sigh in exasperation.

“Yes?” he said, nearly as curtly as earlier. She nudged him harder, and he responded by holding tighter to her hand.

“My lord, if I may presume to introduce myself.” The gentleman who’d approached them was older, a young lady at his side. An explanation for his insistence on hailing Griffith. I’m here to prevent your daughter from ensnaring him, Della thought. And let me keep up my part of the bargain by making that very clear.

Not to mention she was very eager herself to get him home. Since then they could embark on the most pleasurable aspect of their bargain.

“Lord Thwaite, my lord. I know your cousin the Duke of Northam. Terribly sorry to hear of his illness.”

She felt Griffith’s posture get rigid. And knew it was because he didn’t want anyone to speak of his cousin, whom Della could tell was someone Griffith cared about.

“Thank you.”

“I know you are recently arrived in London, and I believe you don’t have many acquaintances as of yet,” Lord Thwaite continued, apparently oblivious to Griffith’s clear aggravation. “So I would introduce my daughter, Lady Amelia.”

The daughter nodded at Griffith, looking pained. Perhaps she was aware of her father’s encroachment?

“A pleasure, my lady.” Griffith’s tone was softer, as though he wouldn’t punish the daughter for the father’s sins.

That shouldn’t have surprised her, given how kind he was to any lady he’d met besides her. Should she take that as a reverse sort of compliment?

After all, he wasn’t planning on having sexual relations with any of the ladies he was pleasant to. At least she hoped he wasn’t, or he’d be too tired to venture into Society.

Not that she had claim to him in any way about that, but she did hope he would devote himself exclusively to her, at least while they were in agreement as to their relationship. She deserved and desired his full attention.

“My lord.”

“This is my betrothed, Lady Della,” Griffith said.

Lord Thwaite’s face fell. Just as his daughter’s brightened. She glanced at Della with a wry look on her face, as though acknowledging her father’s disappointment, but also relieved by it.

Della liked her already.

“Lady Della, a pleasure. I believe I have met your sister Ida, Lady Carson?”