Page 72 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

The brief reprieve hunting gave Dominic was just that—a brief reprieve. It tired his body but left his mind buzzing. Talking to the animals was a small comfort, a momentary joy stolen from the chaos. Yet, returning to the house reminded him why unease clung to him like mud to his boots: Marianne.

It had been two days since he’d last seen her face, and just a bit longer since he’d been between her legs—tasting her, teasing her, bringing her to the pinnacle of pleasure. The memory was vivid as ever, but the feelings had faded, evaporated like smoke in the morning air.

I should stop thinking about her.

He pushed open the heavy door to his study, hoping to drown out thoughts of her with the dull monotony of doing the accounts.

The study was his sanctuary. While he tolerated the company of Achilles and Beowulf well enough, there was nothing like the solitude of a locked door.

When the oak door clicked shut behind him, he let out a long sigh of relief and rubbed his head, still foggy from sleepless nights.

That click? It made him feel safe.

Safe from Marianne’s wiles, her subtle insistence, and the way she had somehow burrowed into his head—and his life.

Who even insisted on marryingheranyway? He might have been safer with Elizabeth, the timid younger sister who looked like a startled rabbit at every sound.

He let himself believe for a moment that he could finally get some rest—away from the gentle footfalls and the soft voice she used with the servants.

That illusion lasted precisely two seconds.

Because of the cat.

“Off,” he barked, using his most commanding voice. The kind that usually had servants and business partners quaking in their shoes. Except Lord Grisham.

Serafina, however, gave him a slow, unimpressed blink. Marianne’s grey menace looked far too comfortable sprawled across his neatly stacked documents. The estate ledger was perilously close to becoming a cat playground.

“I said,off,” he repeated, trying to sound sterner, though he was careful not to raise his voice too much.

No point in encouraging further rebellion.

The cat stretched luxuriously, knocking over an inkwell with a graceful swipe of her paw.

Ink began spreading like a small, black lake over his carefully penned papers.

Frustration welled up inside Dominic. Hewould notask for help. He was a duke, after all. He couldn’t be undone by a mere feline, could he? Still, sudden moves would only worsen the disaster.

“You may just regret that, Serafina,” he warned, speaking as if he were negotiating with a very demanding—if utterly indifferent—sovereign.

His dogs and stallion obeyed him without question, but this cat? She was an agent of chaos, sitting smugly atop the estate ledger, blinking at him like she owned the place.

“I saidoff,foul creature,” he growled.

She responded by pushing a heavy paperweight off his desk with a lazy paw. It hit the floor with a dull thunk, mercifully avoiding a loud crash.

Dominic closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, then letting the air out slowly through his mouth. Once. Twice. Thrice.

This is not working,he thought bitterly. Not like it did when he dealt with infuriating investors.

“I willnotnegotiate with you,” he warned again, moving closer, but tiptoeing as if the cat might explode if startled.

He almost called for a maid—or Marianne—but he stopped himself. He could practically hear his wife cooing from somewhere nearby,“Oh, my naughty girl. Come down from the desk this instant.”

With a resigned breath, he sat down and gently pulled the documents from beneath Serafina, easing her onto the floor.

She meowed in protest, clearly miffed at being displaced.

He sighed and turned back to the mess on his desk, tossing ink-splattered pages into the waste bin and focusing on the work he’d planned. The cat, however, settled by his boots, purring as if she hadn’t just threatened his livelihood.