Leslie Lafoy by The Dukes Proposal Page B

residences, I have mine, and that there are several days’ traveling distance between them.”
    “Except when you’re both in London,” Harry pointed out. “I assume you’ve already written to tell her that you’re on the verge of taking the great matrimonial leap and invited her to be here for the occasion.”
    “The best thing about having respectable females in your life is that they liberate you from the details of social expectations. Lady Ryland wrote her this afternoon, asking her for her guest list for the engagement ball. I’m sure she also included the expected niceties about looking forward to meeting her in the near future.”
    “That should be interesting,” Harry offered with a droll chuckle. “The Dressmaker Duchess Ryland does battle with the Dowager Dragon Dunsford. You could probably sell tickets to the contest, you know, and make a tidy little sum.”
    Tickets were a possibility only if the confrontations weren’t done in full public view. “It might not be a battle at all,” he posed hopefully. “They might well find themselves agreeable on everything.”
    Harry snorted before retorting, “Not once in all of my life have I seen your mother graciously cooperate with anyone about anything. Things are done her way or they’re not done at all. She’s contrary for the sake of being contrary.”
    True. “I’m sure Lady Ryland will be able to achieve some sort of harmony. If today was any sort of indication, she’s very good at seizing control of situations.”
    “Well, I just hope that you’ve thought to warn Lady Fiona of what awaits her in terms of her future mother-in-law’s proclivities and expectations. To let her wander into the maws of that beast without a warning would be unconscionably cruel.”
    “I’ve hinted at it.”
    “You better do more than hint. And the sooner the better.”
    “Agreed,” Ian said before taking another sip of his drink.
    “Have you hinted to her about Charlotte, as well?”
    What did it say about his character that he found his irascible mother easier to talk about than his tempestuous, deeply grieving ward? “I’ll explain fully as soon as the opportunity naturally presents itself.”
    Harry made a humming sound that held the unmistakable notes of censure, then suddenly straightened his shoulders and stiffened his spine. “Speaking of opportunity…” He lifted his glass toward the ballroom entry. “Lady Baltrip has arrived.”
    Damn. So much for long odds and the hope that he wouldn’t have to decide between being honorable and pleasured. He glanced back over his shoulder at the safe haven of the potted palms.
    “Ah,” Harry drawled around a grin. “Given the twinkle in her eye, I’d say that she has fond memories of your stroll in the garden last night.”
    Twinkle in her eye? So much for hiding in the greenery. Lady Baltrip would see any sort of seclusion as an opportunity for a—
    “How long before you’re clapped in manacles?” Harry asked as Lady Baltrip began making her way across the ballroom toward them.
    “I beg your pardon?” Ian asked, his mind staggering through his rapidly dwindling options.
    “When is the engagement announcement going to be made?”
    “Lady Ryland had already scheduled a gala affair for three weeks from now. The betrothal will be announced that evening.”
    “And the wedding?”
    “Three weeks after that.”
    “A crescendoing close of the Season.” Harry lifted his glass in salute. “Perfect timing.”
    “Perfect for what?”
    “Six weeks is just the right length for an affair. Either you’re both bored by that point and ready to mutually cry quits, or she’s hoping for a more permanent relationship and you’re suddenly looking for a convenient escape. Marrying someone else tends to send a very clear message that the tryst can only evolve so much farther.”
    “That’s true,” he admitted. Of course he’d have to tell her tonight that he was going to be engaged before the month was out.