Page 13 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke
Chapter Five
“Ifind nothing about this situation honest, Your Grace,” Beatrice told him, her voice sharp, her cheeks tinged with red. “Not your abandonment in the carriage, nor this midnight visitation.”
His wife was a little spitfire, apparently.
Leo observed her with clinical detachment, though something in the slight tilt of her chin stirred an unexpected response within him. Perhaps it was admiration, for he knew that another gently bred lady would have dissolved into hysterics.
No, Beatrice was a little minx. He was certain of it.
Her dark curls tumbled over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the white linen of her nightgown, sheer even in the soft lamplight, hugging her delicate curves so deliciously.
She was a curious contradiction. A woman who had agreed to a marriage of convenience, yet bristled at every suggestion that convenience might be its only purpose.
Unlike the practiced coquettes who’d warmed his bed in the past, the new Duchess of Stagmore displayed neither artifice nor calculation. Her indignation was genuine, her resistance unfeigned.
Leo found himself strangely intrigued by her authenticity.
If he were completely honest, he found it ratheralluring.
“Honesty is precisely what I’ve come to discuss,” he finally spoke, maintaining his position at the foot of her bed, deliberately keeping a distance between them. “I believe we’ve begun our arrangement under certain… misapprehensions that would benefit from clarification.”
Her eyes narrowed, the blue in them darkening like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Leo noted with unwelcome fascination how the color shifted in the lamplight, revealing depths he hadn’t noticed during their brief acquaintance.
“And these clarifications could not wait until morning?” she asked. “Or perhaps they might have been offeredbeforewe spoke our vows?”
“Some conversations are best conducted when the house sleeps,” Leo countered, unmoved by her indignation, though privately acknowledging the validity of her complaint.
He had, after all, abandoned her twice in one day. Behavior unbecoming of a gentleman, let alone a duke. Yet he found himself reluctant to apologize, as though conceding even this small point might establish a dangerous precedent.
“When we need not concern ourselves with servants’ ears pressed to doors, or observant eyes noting every shift in expression,” he finished.
“I cannot help but wonder if this consideration of yours extends to acknowledging that your bride might prefer rest after what has been, by any measure, an extraordinarily taxing day, Your Grace.”
Leo permitted himself a small smile at her sharp retort.
Most women of his acquaintance, even those who had shared his bed, would never dare address him with such forthright criticism. The novelty was… not entirely unpleasant.
“I’ve been informed by Mrs. Fairchild that you spent the afternoon conducting a thorough inspection of the estate,” he said, deliberately choosing not to comment on her retort. “Hardly the actions of a woman overcome by fatigue.”
“You had me watched?” Her posture stiffened further, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the covers tighter.
“I wasinformedof your activities, as any master of a house might reasonably expect,” he corrected, moving to take a seat in the armchair near the fireplace.
The casual assumption of territory seemed to further agitate her, but the slight stiffening of her shoulders and the quick jutting of her chin took him by surprise.
How different she was from the polished matrons and eager debutantes. With her, every flicker of feeling lay unguarded, bright as candlelight in a darkened room.
“Now, shall we discuss the terms of our arrangement like civilized individuals, or would you prefer to continue trading barbs until dawn?” he asked, a challenge disguised as a courtesy.
She drew a steadying breath, her shoulders squaring as though she could will composure into her bones. The tremors in her hands vanished, her gaze sharpening with quiet resolve.
How had a sheltered daughter of Ironstone learned such steel? Few women possessed it—fewer still so young or bound by her station.
“Very well,” she said finally. “What terms do you wish to discuss that were not already established in the antechamber at St. George’s?”
“Our daily expectations,” Leo replied, stretching his long legs before him in a deliberate display of ease. He noted how her gaze flickered briefly to the movement before returning resolutely to his face. “The practicalities of our arrangement were, by necessity, left somewhat vague during our hasty negotiation.”
“I was under the impression that ‘practicalities’ were precisely what we had discussed,” she countered. “A marriage that will be beneficial for both parties. None of the… encumbrances of genuine attachment will be expected, but we will treat one another with kindness and courtesy.”