Page 14 of His Stolen Duchess

Lysander shot his friend a look, then turned back to Georgina. “Shall we? Our carriage awaits.”

Georgina slipped her arm through his, still digesting the reality of her new title and the uncertain days ahead.

He helped her into the carriage and followed, settling beside her.

Georgina gazed out the window, catching the last glimpses of her sisters waving farewell. They looked radiant—each happily married, each in love. She knew they wished the same for her, but her marriage was different—one born of necessity, not passion.

As the church faded from view, Georgina leaned back and exhaled softly. She glanced sideways at the Duke, examining the unreadable calm on his face. His expression was distant, aloof, as if the weight of the day hadn’t touched him at all.

A tightness gripped her chest. She was sitting across from a stranger. A stranger she’d have to share a life with.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Georgina offered her new husband her best smile.

“Hmm,” he grunted.

“And it was a wonderful service, don’t you think?”

“I’d rather you got to the point, Duchess,” Lysander responded.

Georgina folded her arms across her chest. “I am asking you innocent questions. Why are you being rude?”

“Because I have no time for pleasantries. If you have something to say, then simply say it.”

Oh, he is impossible. How can I possibly carry on a conversation with this man?

And yet, a part of her reminded her that she had to remain in his good graces to keep Dottie around.

“I only want to thank you again for saving my life. And for offering to marry me. Not every man would do that. Few people would dive into the water as quickly as you did.”

He said nothing, and the silence stretched between them. She studied him closely—the tall, broad-shouldered man with jet-black hair and an immaculately kept beard, his sharp blue eyes cool and unreadable against his tanned skin. Despite his strong presence, there was no warmth in his gaze, no hint of the feelings she hoped to find, only an unyielding reserve.

“You’re not much for conversation, are you?” she asked.

“Not unless it’s necessary.”

“So, we won’t talk about anything unless there is something soothing or a point to the conversation?”

“What do you want me to say?” Lysander asked, finally turning to face her. “Should I talk about how nice the weather is when it’s clear the weather is nice? Should I agree with a sentiment just for the point of agreeing?”

“Well, isn’t that how people get to know each other?” Georgina challenged.

“By comparing thoughts on the warmth of a day or the color of a flower? I don’t think so.”

“Are you this cold about everything?” Georgina scoffed.

Lysander didn’t rise to the bait. “Not cold. Pragmatic.”

His curt response only caused her blood to course through her body more quickly, and not in a pleasant way. She shifted herself on the coach bench to be closer to him, hoping that might improve matters.

“There’s far more to life than pragmatism.”

“Is there?”

“Of course,” she gushed. “Tell me. What do you enjoy?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of difference. I am your wife now, and you are my husband. We should get to know each other.”