Page 18 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

Tonight, however, the prospect piqued no flicker of interest. Instead, his thoughts strayed unbidden to the woman he had married and left behind in his estate at this very moment.

Damnation.

“His Grace has been occupied with his new Duchess, my dear,” Adrian interjected smoothly, his eyes glinting with poorly concealed amusement. “Marriage, it seems, demands considerable attention. Even from those previously devoted to morediversepursuits.”

Miss Miller’s expression faltered momentarily before composure reasserted itself. “Of course. We were all surprised by the suddenness of Your Grace’s marriage, though they say it was quite the romantic tale. Love at first sight, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly right,” Leo replied, allowing a smile to curve his lips.

A meaningful glance passed between Miss Miller and a young woman serving a nearby table. Miss Clara Wilkins, if Leo recalled correctly. A farmer’s daughter with whom he had enjoyed a brief dalliance the previous autumn.

The silent exchange did not escape his notice, nor did the subsequent approach of Miss Wilkins to their table, bearing what appeared to be a plate of the tavern’s specialty meat pies.

“Compliments of the house, Your Grace,” Miss Wilkins announced, setting the plate before him with a smile that held familiar warmth. “I recalled how you enjoyed these during your last visit.”

Adrian watched this exchange with undisguised fascination, his eyes darting between the two women and Leo with the keen interest of a naturalist observing an unusual species in its habitat.

“Most thoughtful,” Leo acknowledged, though he made no move to accept the offering.

Miss Wilkins lingered, her hand coming to rest lightly on the back of his chair. “Some of us were planning a small gathering later this evening. Nothing elaborate, just music and perhaps some dancing in the back garden. Uncle Thomas has hung lanterns in the apple trees.” Her voice lowered slightly. “You and Lord Tillfield would be most welcome to join us… after the tavern closes to regular patrons, of course.”

The invitation hung in the air, its implications clear. Once, such an offer would have been very tempting—the prospect of uncomplicated pleasure weighed against the minimal risk of discovery.

Tonight, however, Leo found himself strangely unmoved by the proposition.

“I fear we must decline,” he replied smoothly. “My wife expects me at the manor this evening.”

The words were meant as a convenient excuse, yet something in them rang disconcertingly true.

Twin expressions of disappointment flickered across the young women’s faces.

“We understand, Your Grace,” Miss Miller said, and they bid their goodnights before moving away.

As they departed, Adrian leaned forward, his expression transformed by genuine astonishment.

“Well, well,” he murmured, pitching his voice below the tavern’s ambient noise. “The Duke who made it a pastime to vanish with widows for days at a time, leaving the ton whispering, now rejects an invitation that once would have been accepted without hesitation.”

“The circumstances differ,” Leo replied tersely.

“Indeed, they do,” Adrian agreed, his initial surprise giving way to analytical interest. “The question becomes: what precisely has changed? From what you claim, your marriage was arranged as one of convenience, with mutual independence established as a founding principle. Yet here you are, acting with the restraint of a newly reformed libertine.”

Leo stared into the depths of his untouched ale, unwilling to acknowledge the accuracy of his friend’s assessment. He couldn’t examine what had prompted his refusal, either.

The prospect of a dalliance with either young woman—or both, as the exchange had subtly suggested—stirred no interest in him. Instead, his thoughts circled back to Stagmore Manor, to the new duchess who maintained a maddening distance from its master.

“Perhaps,” Adrian ventured, his voice softening slightly, any hint of mockery from earlier vanishing, “you find yourself intrigued by your wife?”

Leo stilled. He had entered marriage as one might approach a business transaction—a necessary inconvenience undertaken for social expediency, and to cleanse his cousin’s failings from his name. He had not anticipated finding himself… curious about the woman who now bore his name.

“The Duchess remains something of an enigma,” he admitted finally, the confession emerging reluctantly. “She has reorganized the household with remarkable efficiency, whilemaintaining a distance that would satisfy every standard of propriety.”

“How perfectly dreadful,” Adrian remarked. “A duchess who performs her duties with exemplary skill while respecting the boundaries you yourself established. One can see why you find the situation so vexing.”

“She avoids me as though I were a distant relation come to visit rather than her husband,” Leo continued, irritation evident in the precise articulation of each word. “Yet somehow she does it with perfect courtesy.”

“And this troubles you because…?”

Leo fell silent, unwilling to articulate the peculiar sense of exclusion he felt in his own home—the irrational resentment at being held at arm’s length by a woman who had every reason to maintain such distance, given the terms he himself had dictated.