The duke’s house was much closer in size and majesty to her parents’ house; the foyer alone was as big as four of their bedrooms combined.

Small wonder it was difficult for anyone to believe she would rather live on her own with her friends and her rescues than return to that splendor. But that splendor came with a price, and that price was slow suffocation.

Her heels made a sharp clicking noise on the parquet. It would be difficult to arrive without someone noticing, she thought to herself. Better invest in soft-soled shoes to better facilitate an illicit affair.

On the list now, then: protection against unwanted pregnancy and some secretive footwear. If it got any more expensive, she’d have to consider scrapping the entire idea since she might not be able to afford it.

But then she wouldn’t get to see him naked, she thought wistfully. I can go without tea for a time. Sarah would be fine with that.

Although she wouldn’t want to have to explain why.

“My lady.”

The duke—since Della presumed it was him—was seated in a large rolling chair in front of the fire. A blanket was draped on his knees, and a table filled with bottles of liquid was to his right.

Della had visited enough sickrooms to know that the duke was ill. How ill, of course, she couldn’t say. But it explained why Lord Stanbury was so determined to succeed at reentering Society if the current duke was on the verge of dying.

She felt a pang of sympathy for both of them—one for obvious reasons, the other because he so clearly did not wish to be foisted into his current situation, but he was too honorable or obliged or whatever it was he felt to refuse.

“Forgive me for not getting up,” the duke continued. He had a quiet voice and a friendly smile. He was nothing like her father, that was for certain.

“Of course.” Della went to sit on the couch that was perpendicular to his chair. It was luxurious, and she nearly closed her eyes in bliss at the sensation—the furniture at her house was worn because it was all hand-me-down, so the last sofa she’d sat on had lost most of its plushness.

But this was heaven.

There was something to being a duke, wasn’t there? Even if she had long ago decided there wasn’t enough to being a duke’s daughter. Or a duchess, for that matter, given her current subterfuge.

“Lord Stanbury explained everything to me,” the duke began. Della froze, wondering just what he’d explained. There was so much that could be explained. “That you and he had agreed to pretend to an engagement to ensure his return to Society wasn’t tinged with the strong likelihood of his being in the sights of so many young ladies.”