“And Viscount Brookhouse. Yes.” Perhaps Father wouldn’t have died quite so soon either. Because his rotten relatives would have embraced him with open arms, and he wouldn’t have been so sunk into melancholy that he’d disappeared into a bottle. Or bottles, as it were.
Then again, he’d hated his relatives, so perhaps not.
A thought occurred to him. “Why did you and your sisters trace my line of inheritance?”
She shrugged. “So we would know who your relations were if we needed to invite them to any of our social occasions for you.”
He shot her a dark look. “You didn’t invite them to Rosy’s ball, did you?”
“No, indeed. Your mother made it quite clear they weren’t to be invited to anything ever. Besides, I gather that your most immediate relations—your grandparents on your father’s side—are deceased.”
“If you say so. I never knew or cared. They washed their hands of Father once he married Mother. If I could have refused the dukedom and the viscountcy, too, I would have, but aside from the fact that it’s mine whether I want it or not, Mother pointed out that actually claiming the title might help with some of my projects down the line. God knows, the Duke of Bridgewater has certainly benefited from his title.”
Diana cocked her head. “I don’t know who that is.”
“That’s because he never took part in politics and almost never came to London. Spent all his time building canals.” The Duke of Bridgewater was a man after Geoffrey’s own heart.
“Oh, right—the one they call ‘the Canal Duke.’ Who was his heir?”
“Nobody. He never married and had no relations to inherit.”
“Like you.”
“I suppose.” Geoffrey hadn’t considered that before.
“There is no supposing involved. We traced all your relations. You are the last Duke of Grenwood.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Until I marry and have a son.”
She eyed him askance. “First of all, I seem to recall you saying you don’t wish to marry.”
“That’s not true. I do. One day. Many years into the future.”
“Even if—” At his scowl, she quickly amended her statement. “When you marry, there’s no guarantee you’ll have a son.”
“True.” But he would damned well enjoy trying to sire one. With her, the only woman he’d ever thought he’d like to marry. Then, realizing he was heading into dangerous territory, he changed the subject. “Do you mean to dance this evening?”
She stared up at him with a raised brow. “If I’m asked.”
“Don’t look at me,” he warned. “That one lesson you gave me wasn’t nearly enough for me to be able to dance in public.”
She chuckled. “Then clearly we shall have to get you more lessons before Rosy’s ball next week. You simply must dance at your sister’s ball, even if not with her.”
“If you insist.” He glanced up to see that the clock said nine. After looking around to make sure no one stood nearby, he lowered his voice. “You do mean to meet me in an hour, I hope.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Not exactly. Your note implied that you would, but ‘I can’ wasn’t as clear an answer as I was looking for.”
She sniffed. “If you will recall what you wrote, ‘I can’ is a direct answer to your last line about whether I can meet you.”
“Ah. I take it you will do anything to keep your reputation safe.”
“Not ‘anything,’ obviously, because I’ve agreed to meet privately with you. But you went to such great lengths to hide your identity in the note that I thought it only fair I do the same.” She drew herself up. “I don’t wish to ruin you, sir.”
He laughed. “Why sign the note ML?”
“‘My lady.’”