Page 13 of His Stolen Duchess (Stolen by the Duke #7)

Chapter Ten

“ W hat do you need?” Lysander asked without glancing up from his desk.

Georgina stood in the doorway, framed by maple wood and shadows. The only light came from the candle on his desk, its flickering glow catching the edges of her figure in silhouette.

Her hair was unpinned. Whether that had been intentional or not, he couldn’t tell, but the sight of her like that—half-illuminated, half-obscured—made it difficult to concentrate.

“I wanted to ask why you’ve been avoiding me.”

He finally looked up, brows lifted. “Avoiding you?”

Georgina folded her arms, her tone deceptively light. “It’s been three days since we went swimming. I haven’t seen you since. I’d say that qualifies.”

He put his pen down with deliberate care and leaned back. “Is it avoidance to carry out my responsibilities? I hadn’t realized the estate was to be neglected in favor of social calls.”

“Is it neglecting the estate to say good morning to your wife?” she asked.

Lysander’s jaw ticked. He had not meant to be short with her, but he also hadn’t expected this confrontation tonight of all nights. He had three ledgers open, letters awaiting reply, and a shipment dispute he needed to sort out before the next market day.

“I assumed you preferred your independence,” he said. “I didn’t want to crowd you.”

“Crowding would require presence,” she replied crisply. “You vanished.”

“I didn’t vanish. I’ve been right here.” He gestured to the desk. “Running an estate is not an idle man’s pastime, Duchess.”

“And I never suggested it was. But you kissed me, Your Grace. Then you disappeared. That may not be avoidance to you, but it certainly feels like it to me.”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing the space between his brows. “You were distressed. I acted on instinct.”

“You kissed me because I was distressed ?” Her brows rose. “That’s a novel approach to comfort.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said.

“Perhaps,” she replied. “But you did.”

She stepped further into the study, her slippers quiet on the wood floor, her presence suddenly too large for the room.

“I didn’t come to fight,” she said more quietly. “I just wanted to know where we stand.”

He met her gaze. “Where we’ve always stood. This is a marriage of necessity.”

“Of course,” she said. “I know that. But I also recall you telling me we should be content together. Friendly. At least for the time being.”

“I did.”

“I suppose I misunderstood what that would look like.”

Lysander braced his elbows on the desk and interlocked his fingers. “Duchess?—”

“No, let me finish. I’m not asking you to be someone you’re not, Your Grace, and I’m not expecting roses and poems.” She hesitated, then added with a sardonic smile, “Although I wouldn’t object to a simple conversation now and again.”

“You’re having one now.”

“Am I? Because it feels more like being dismissed.”

He stood, pushing the chair back with a quiet scrape, and walked around the desk until he was facing her. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you didn’t kiss me out of pity.”

He paused. “I didn’t.”

Her expression didn’t change, but something in her posture eased ever so slightly.

“I don’t regret it,” he added quietly. “But I do think it was unwise.”

“Because it complicates things?”

“Yes.”

“Because you think I’ll expect more.”

He said nothing.

She nodded slowly. “And do you think I will?”

“I think… it would be easier for us both if we avoided anything further.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a rare lapse. “It is the closest I can offer.”

Georgina’s voice gentled. “I know this wasn’t what either of us wanted. But we’re here now. And whether we intended it or not, something did happen between us. I don’t think ignoring it will make the situation disappear.”

“I’m not ignoring it. I’m… managing it.”

A charged and uneasy silence fell between them.

“I didn’t come here expecting anything from you,” she said after a moment. “Not another kiss. Not a declaration. Just… honesty. And perhaps some clarity about where we stand.”

Lysander considered her question for a long moment.

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said. “And I won’t pretend this is something it’s not. But you’re right. We married to quell a scandal. We agreed to present a united front. I’ve failed at that.”

She didn’t speak, letting him finish.

“I will do better. I’ll ensure we’re seen together. We’ll resume swimming lessons. If you’re still willing.”

“I am.”

“But,” he added, “those lessons will be just that. Lessons. No more… lapses in judgment.”

Her brow arched. “It was a lapse. Is that how you see it?”

“An indulgence,” he corrected. “One I won’t repeat.”

Georgina nodded once. “Understood.”

Lysander expected her to leave then, to turn and sweep out with one of her dramatic little gestures, head high and spine straight. But she didn’t.

Instead, she looked at him for a long time, so long he almost asked what she saw.

Georgina stepped back at last. “Good night, Lysander.”

“Good night.”

She turned and left without another word, her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Lysander sat back down at his desk, picked up his pen, and stared at the page.

That’s the first time she’s called me by my first name.

The figures before him became blurred. The candle sputtered. Somewhere beyond the study walls, a floorboard creaked.

He had his answer now—clarity, honesty, all the things she had asked for. And yet, the air felt heavier than before.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Lysander yawned as he walked down the hallway that led to the library. It had been a late night going over the accounts for his estate, and even after that, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. He’d spent some of the time thinking about what he might do with Georgina.

He wanted to do something to make her time at the manor more pleasant and to stop her from coming to him constantly. She was obviously unsatisfied with her role at the estate, and perhaps there was a way to either make her feel more at home or at least give her something more meaningful to do.

A sound caught his ear. It came from the great hall, and he was sure at first that it was an animal. When he got closer, he found that it was laughter. Not just one person, but a small group of them, and it was the type of laughter that was not at anyone’s expense.

It was joyful laughter, happiness, contentment.

He drew closer, hoping to discover the source of such merriment, already suspecting that his new wife had something to do with it. Never had he heard such laughter in his manor before.

He reached the hall to find the large doors closed and the laughter coming from behind them. He didn’t need to know what was causing the laughter, but he found that he wanted to know how she had elicited such joy.

Lysander threw the doors open, and as soon as he did, Mr. Squawksby seized his chance like Wellington at Waterloo. He flew straight toward the doors, and Lysander had to duck to avoid being mowed down by the fowl.

The laughter in the hall ended abruptly. He was startled by the surprised faces staring back at him, the most surprised belonging to Georgina.

Mrs. Kettleworth was there, along with a few maids and footmen. Mr. Jenkins, the butler, was also in the hall, but far off to one side, and looked like he was there in more of a supervisory capacity.

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Georgina led the charge.

“After him!” she called.

She looked at Lysander guiltily, then ran past him and out the door. None of the servants met his eyes as they sprinted past him and after the parrot.

Did I manifest this? I wished for something to keep her more occupied, and I certainly got my wish.

The butler was the only one left in the room. He walked smartly to the door and nodded to the Duke.

“Your Grace,” he said before leaving the room.

Lysander shook his head, then turned on his heels to follow the parrot parade.

He found the parrot and its followers in the library, and was glad he was not the one who got there first. It was much safer to be looking in than to be amongst the chaos.

“Scandalous thighs!” the bird squawked from atop the curtain rod in the large window.

The servants burst into laughter at the parrot’s candor.

And the parrot seemed to thrive on the laughter.

“Scandalous thighs!” he repeated.

“Come down from there!” Georgina called to her pet.

At one point, she looked over her shoulder at Lysander, biting her lip in consternation.

One of the footmen ran around with a ladder, and two of the maids had large blankets, ready to throw them over the parrot.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” the parrot squawked.

Lysander was the only one who could see it coming. The others flapped around in ways that the parrot had done previously, but was not doing now, perched safely atop the curtain pole.

“Get him off of there!” Lysander held his arms out in front of him, but didn’t venture into the room. “Get him off there now! For goodness’ sake! He’ll destroy the curtains and surely the upholstery next!”

Georgina and the staff were in too much of a panic to comply with the Duke’s demands, and they fell on deaf ears.

It was too late, anyway. The parrot relieved himself all down the curtains.

Lysander turned away and brought his hand to his forehead. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

I thought I was simply saving her from a scandal. What horrors have I invited into my house as a result?

Anger flooded through him at being disobeyed by his staff and at the parrot for wreaking havoc in his home.

“No!” Georgina called from the room. “Mr. Squawksby, you know better than that! You’re a sophisticated parrot, not a brute.”

More laughter erupted from the library, and while Lysander considered that to be a fine noise to have inside his manor, the other noises were entirely unwelcome.

When Lysander peeked into the library again, he saw that the parrot had purloined a silver spoon from somewhere and was now flying around near the ceiling as the staff ducked and covered their heads in fear that the parrot would drop it directly on them.

The parrot finally dropped the spoon, and one of the footmen dove out of the missile’s way. Then, the winged creature went straight for the piano, landing on its keys and blazing out a combination of notes that sounded purely horrid.

“Encore! Encore!” the bird shouted before walking down the keys and playing them out of time and out of tune.

“Will someone stop that blasted bird!” the Duke bellowed.

The maids ran for the piano, tossing the blankets and missing completely. The parrot danced from side to side on the keys as if playing a victory song, albeit an unbelievably bad one. When one of the footmen ran for the bird, it took flight again and circled high above.

“Oh, blast this!” the Duke boomed. He finally entered the library and strode across the room to the piano, picking up one of the blankets. He turned to face the tormentor and pointed at the parrot, which was now circling the ceiling.

“Stop this at once!” he boomed.

The parrot flew down and then straight at the Duke, and once it was close enough, he tossed the blanket on the bird. Although it mostly covered the wayward fowl, as the parrot flapped its wings and scrabbled its legs, it became tangled in the blanket.

“Oh, no!” Georgina screamed.

Lysander quickly stepped forward, holding out his arms, and caught the parrot as it fell to the floor. He held it tightly, his hands pinning the wings under the blanket, and the parrot went still.

He handed the wrapped parrot to one of the footmen. “Take him back to where he belongs. Everyone except Lady Georgina can leave the room.”

The laughter was over. The staff exited the room with their heads lowered. Georgina took a step toward the footman holding her parrot and reached out her hand before thinking better of her actions. She retracted her hand, took a step back, glanced at Lysander, then fixed her gaze on the carpet.

“You don’t—” Georgina started.

The Duke held up a finger to silence her, waiting until everyone had left the room before he brought his finger down.

“You don’t understand,” Georgina said. “I tried to keep him in the conservatory, but he’s the smartest parrot in the world and managed to escape. He must have made his way out to find me. You can’t really be unhappy at that, can you?”

“The smartest parrot in the world?” Lysander snapped. “And that includes attacking my staff, flying at me like he wanted to stab me in the face, befouling my curtain, and dropping spoons on people?”

Georgina placed her hands on her hips and sighed. She bit her bottom lip before saying, “He’s bored, that’s all. He’s acting out because he needs more mental stimulation.”

“Then teach him how to play chess.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would learn it without a hitch, and he would be better than all of us in a week.”

Lysander didn’t say a word. He only glared at Georgina. She let her arms drop to her sides, then her head dropped, and she looked at the floor once again.

“I want to be fair,” Lysander said. “We already discussed the parrot, and he was to be kept outside. I don’t need to explain why that is for the best. Yet, I find him flying around my home, causing havoc, and taking up the time of multiple servants. What am I to do about this?”

“Please,” Georgina begged. “It’s my fault he got out. You can punish me if you like, but please don’t punish Mr. Squawksby! He’s done nothing wrong. His only crime is being a parrot. I should have controlled him better, and I will from now on. I promise that this will never happen again.”

“He won’t be in the house ever again?”

“Never again,” Georgina repeated. “You have my word.”

“Good, because if he troubles this household again, he will no longer be a part of it. Now, please ensure that he is firmly secured in the conservatory. I know you are an intelligent woman, so I assume you can find a way to keep him there.”

“I will,” Georgina gushed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Georgina ran from the room to tend to her bird.

Lysander watched her go, then took a deep breath. He didn’t know exactly what to feel. The laughter of his staff was welcome and something he never thought he would hear in his manor. Yet, the menace of the bird was not welcome.

Georgina seemed intent on infuriating him at every turn, but perhaps it was a good thing. He needed to avoid getting too close to her and repeating their kiss. Perhaps clashing with his wife could be used to his advantage.

So, this is what my marriage has become. I need to hope my wife is so frustrating that I’m dissuaded from laying my hands on her.