Fuck. That arrogant bastard. How dare Lockwood try to woo Alice? Kit couldn’t blame the duke—Alice was amazing in every way—but that didn’t mean Kit had to like it. Lockwood and Alice had seemed quite chummy at the opera. Had they anything in common? Was the duke aware that she liked to cook and was very good at cards, at least Kit’s version of cards?

“I see that news is sitting well,” Preston said wryly. “What are you going to do about it?”

Pressing his palms deep into his eye sockets, Kit considered the question. Alice needed a husband and she wanted to marry for love. Was Lockwood a possibility? He’d have no problem finding a rich wife—nearly every unmarried girl in the city would swoon at the chance to become a duchess—which meant Lockwood liked Alice. That something about her appealed to him.

So, what was Kit prepared to do? He couldn’t marry her, that was clear, and preventing Lockwood from courting her was beyond cruel. If he wished the best for Alice—and he most definitely did—then he had to stop kissing and touching her. He had to let her go.

It was what he’d promised after the house party, yet he’d slid into familiar patterns the instant she reappeared in his life. He must show more resolve, more willpower. Stop dragging her into his office. Stop flirting. Stop thinking about her all the damn time. She deserved someone like Lockwood, as much as Kit hated to admit it. Alice deserved the world—a title, children, a doting husband. If Lockwood was willing, then Kit couldn’t stand in the way.

“Nothing,” he told Preston, and lowered his hands. “I’d be happy for her, if that’s what she wants.”

“Indeed.” Preston cocked his head thoughtfully. “Wasn’t the reaction I expected, but it’s awfully noble of you.”

“I am not the courting type. She needs to marry to get away from her mother, and England is a fine choice.”

“You’re not ready to settle down, even if it means losing her?”

Kit drummed his fingers on the desk. “I don’t have her, so there is nothing to lose. And no, I have no interest in marriage. Just because Harrison is married doesn’t mean I’m next. Why don’t you marry?”

Preston’s expression darkened, his brows pulling together. “My father already tried that, remember? Didn’t work out for him.”

“You never told me how you wiggled your way out of that.”

“It’s not important. I won’t have him manipulating me ever again.”

“Which is why you flaunt Arabella around town every chance you get. To drive a stake through the old man’s heart.”

Preston leaned back, his face clearing. “Revenge is only part of it. Mostly, I like Arabella’s company.”

“And her presence keeps the debutantes away.”