“The Duke of Portland is your father?” She flashed an accusatory glare at me. “You knew his father is a duke?” I slowly shook my head. Thomas’s mother had a distant claim to the Romanian throne, and I imagined his father—who he’d said married for business, not love—would have chosen his bride carefully. Lord Cresswell was not the type of man who’d marry below his station. Though I’d never asked outright, I’d assumed he was either an earl or possibly a duke.
