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Her breath caught. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

He edged closer still, closing the small distance until the warmth of his body reached hers.

Her heart hammered in her chest, every instinct screaming at her to pull away—and yet she was rooted to the spot.

His gaze dropped to her lips, slow and deliberate. Time seemed to slow down, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

A breath, a pause. His hand reached for her cheek?—

Then, the carriage jerked to a halt.

The Duke pulled back and straightened his coat, now back to his formal self.

“We have arrived at Oakmere Hall,” the coachman announced.

Marianne released a breath.

Oakmere Hall loomed over the moorlands, its silhouette sharp against the bleak sky—especially to Marianne, newly arrived and unsettled.

To her, it seemed less like a house and more like a sentinel guarding the vast, desolate estate.

She couldn’t help but wonder how much of the Duke’s nature had been shaped within these walls.

The estate looked curiously foreboding and compelling at the same time, with ivy climbing the walls and large trees forming a protective mass around it, dangerous and large enough to engulf its visitors.

Dominic stepped out first and offered his hand to her. Marianne took it, for she knew it was expected of her. She was prepared to play the role as best as she could.

Servants were lined up to welcome them. Although Marianne was a marquess’s daughter, she had never received such a show of respect.

“Welcome home, Your Graces,” a stern woman with silvery hair greeted, lowering herself in a practiced curtsy.

“Thank you, Mrs. Alderwick,” the Duke replied.

When was she ever going to get used to being called by her new title?

Then, a sudden noise came from the door—heavy, thudding footsteps.

Two massive dogs came rushing forward to greet them, one with a glossy black coat and the other with a thick, golden mane that rippled as it moved.

“Down,” the Duke commanded, and the dogs instantly complied. “These are my hounds. Achilles is the black one, and Beowulf is the golden one.”

“How do you do, Achilles and Beowulf?” Marianne cooed. “What good boys you are!”

The golden one—Beowulf—came closer and gave her a friendly nudge with his head. He was so big and strong that he almost knocked her over.

Achilles, on the other hand, seemed more tentative. He sniffed her instead, inspecting her carefully.

He seems more like his master .

Right then, the Duke stepped forward. “Hmm, curious. They are usually wary of strangers, but Beowulf seems to tolerate you—for now.”

“Wary, you say?” Marianne bent to scratch behind Beowulf’s ears. “I believe we shall make great friends, will we not, Beowulf? Yes, such a good boy!”

Beowulf’s leg kicked rhythmically in delight. His mouth stretched in a toothy grin, his tongue lolling as his tail thumped against the floor in steady, eager beats.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marianne noticed a pair of footmen pause mid-step, exchanging surprised glances. She imagined that not many guests were so friendly with the Duke’s hounds, and vice versa.

Meanwhile, Achilles lingered by the Duke’s side, his eyes sharp and unblinking, every muscle tense and ready.

He would need some more time to grow accustomed to her, but Marianne didn’t let that discourage her. She’d win the hound over, eventually.

“Shall I show Her Grace to her chambers, Your Grace?” the housekeeper asked, after clearing her throat.

The Duke gave a nod.

“If you’d follow me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Alderwick said.

Marianne quietly followed her up the wide staircase to what felt like an unending maze of halls.

Grisham Manor was large, but Oakmere Hall was comparably enormous and unfamiliar. She would need to acquaint herself with her new home. She felt a little relieved at the thought of having something to do—anything to take her mind off the Duke.

Her chambers were large as expected, and they adjoined the Duke’s, according to the housekeeper. Marianne shivered at the reminder that she now had wifely duties.

“Mrs. Alderwick, may I have an early dinner? Uh, if it’s permitted, of course. I am quite tired,” she requested.

“Of course, Your Grace,” the housekeeper replied. “I will inform His Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Alderwick,” Marianne said softly. “For everything.”

The housekeeper gave her a tight smile, although her face had softened a little.

Then, Marianne spotted the evening dress that had already been laid out for dinner tonight. A tray of light refreshments waited for her on her bedside table. Her stomach grumbled at the sight—she was famished!

“Millie was the one who prepared the rest for you, Your Grace,” Mrs. Alderwick explained. “She will be your lady’s maid.”

“Then I will make sure to thank her when I see her,” Marianne said.

A lady’s maid, just for her.

Her father had made her share a maid with Elizabeth, as he disliked spending more money than needed on his daughters.

Here, it would be different. She was, after all, the Duchess of Oakmere.

Still, she didn’t know whether she was finally free… or trapped in a different cage.