Page 25 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

“I’ve been desperate to speak with you alone,” she said. “How are you truly faring? The circumstances of your marriage have left many concerned.”

Beatrice exhaled slowly, grateful for her friend’s directness. “It’s been… unexpected.”

“That sounds rather mild for finding oneself married to the Duke of Stagmore within days of being jilted.” Georgina’s voice softened with concern. “You know you may speak freely with me. We’ve been friends too long for pretense. Besides, I knowwhat it’s like to expect to marry one but then end up bound to another.”

The ballroom’s heat pressed against Beatrice’s skin as she debated how much to reveal. Indeed, her friend had wed Lysander rather swiftly after she had discovered her former fiancé’s true nature.

And yet…

The memory of her interactions with Leo over the past days flashed through her mind: his penetrating gaze, the casual touches that seemed anything but casual, the way her body responded to his proximity.

Especially after that kiss.

Georgina’s eyes narrowed on her reddening cheeks. “Why are you blushing, Beatrice?”

Beatrice’s eyes widened, and she looked away, shaking her head once. “No, I mean… He…” But she knew she couldn’t keep it from her friend. “He kissed me.”

“Oh?”

A young couple waltzed too close to their alcove. Both women fell silent until they passed.

“He is your husband, after all,” Georgina said.

Beatrice’s face burned hot as she nodded.

Because her friend was right. Leo was her husband, after all, and they were pushing the idea of a romance of the century.

It was certainly not a scandalous thing to say about her husband, but she couldn’t hide her embarrassment. And her friend saw that.

“Do you care for him?” Georgina asked once they were alone again. She certainly looked very invested.

“I hardly know him.” Beatrice cleared her throat awkwardly.

“That wasn’t my question.” Georgina’s gaze was too perceptive by half.

Beatrice smoothed her skirts. “I… don’t want to be another… conquest, Gina.” She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “So, if I… care for him or not, is that relevant at all?”

Georgina sighed, her expression softening. “Of course it is, Bea. It does matter. And if you’re so worried, then I think you should guard your heart. I want you to protect yourself first. All right, darling?”

Beatrice attempted a smile that felt brittle at the edges and nodded. “I really needed this. But I suppose we cannot hide here forever.” She paused and nodded toward the dance floor. “Shall we return before both our husbands send a search party?”

Her friend gave a much more genuine smile in response. “Oh, we wouldn’t want them to feel neglected now, would we?”

And it was as they turned that Beatrice noticed a gentleman of middling years, his attire impeccable, his face arranged in an expression of polite interest.

The Earl of Westbury.

She recognized him immediately; he had spent much of last Season trailing her throughout every ball and assembly, persistent in his requests for dances and determined to win her affection.

“The new Duchess of Stagmore,” he noted. “What an unexpected elevation from your anticipated position as Lady Mallingham.”

Beatrice met his gaze steadily, recalling the attention he had sought the previous Season. “Lord Westbury,” she acknowledged. “How kind of you to offer your congratulations.”

“Indeed, congratulations are in order,” he agreed, his gaze assessing her with an intensity that bordered on impropriety. “One wonders at the circumstances that led to such a fortuitous exchange of grooms. You and Lord Mallingham were consideredquite the established match, I understand. His disappearance caused considerable speculation.”

“I should think that is none of your concern, Lord Westbury,” Georgina said before Beatrice could reply. She spoke like a true duchess, her tone forbidding.

Lord Westbury turned to study her, clearly battling to keep his expression neutral.