Page 41 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

The familiar facade of the Stagmore townhouse rose before her, imposing yet welcoming. She paused at the door for a heartbeat, gathering her composure, then entered, greeted by the butler’s impeccable discretion.

The drawing room was empty, warm from the lingering heat of the afternoon, and she allowed herself a quiet sigh.

The chaos of the day, Philip’s situation, the careful orchestration of Anna’s protection… all of it weighed on her, leaving her simultaneously exhausted and relieved.

She moved through the room with measured steps, letting her mind settle, aware that at any moment, Leo might arrive, bringing with him the controlled intensity and subtle magnetism that made her heart rate quicken in ways she still struggled to understand.

Beatrice had been waiting in the drawing room, the soft firelight painting the walls with gold and shadow, when the sound of the carriage wheels at the gate announced his return.

She straightened in her seat as his familiar figure crossed the threshold, shedding his cloak and gloves with deliberate ease.

“Waiting for me, were you?” Leo asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as he eyed her from the doorway.

“I wanted to make sure that you returned safely,” she replied evenly, though the edge of a smile betrayed her concern. “Much as you ensured my safety this afternoon.”

He gave a small, approving nod, but did not comment further.

Beatrice exhaled softly, allowing herself the faintest satisfaction in the quiet acknowledgment of shared vigilance.

She broke the silence first.

“Thank you,” she said, the words carrying more than mere politeness.

Leo crossed the polished floor, lifting the crystal decanter from the sideboard. The warm glow of the fire caught the amber liquid, and he poured a measure into a cut-glass tumbler, setting it before himself with a soft clink.

He glanced up from the drink he had just poured, his expression deliberately guarded. “You’ve already expressed your gratitude, dear,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Still,” she insisted, lifting her chin slightly, “I hadn’t thought you so… thoughtful.”

He turned to face her fully, the crystal glass held in his hand, his eyes unusually bright in the amber light. “I am capable of more than you assume, darling.”

The simple statement carried weight she had not expected.

Beatrice felt something shift—a reassessment of the man she had married, a recognition of depths she had not previously acknowledged.

This was not merely the rakish aristocrat Society loved to gossip about, nor the cold pragmatist who had proposed theirarrangement. This was a man of complexity and contradictions, capable of hidden principles and deliberate care.

Her thoughts lingered briefly on the possibility of a genuine connection, before she deliberately redirected herself.

“It occurs to me that finding Philip may prove more challenging than we anticipated,” she said. “If he’s hiding to protect Anna, he must have taken considerable precautions against discovery.”

“Indeed,” Leo agreed, relief lacing his voice at the change of topic. “Though his options are limited by finances and connections. Philip has always acted on impulse, without full consideration of the consequences.”

“Unlike his cousin,” Beatrice remarked wryly.

Leo allowed the barest smile to touch his lips before settling back into serious contemplation.

“Westbury’s interest in you at Lady Peregrine’s ball takes on new significance, in light of what we’ve learned,” he continued. “He was probing to determine whether Philip had revealed anything to you.”

“He seemed disappointed by my ignorance,” Beatrice recalled. “At the time, I attributed his interest to mere social curiosity about our unusual marriage.”

“Westbury is clearly involved in far more than ownership of a gaming hell,” Leo said, his expression hardening. “Smuggling, or worse. The scale of his operation must be considerable to justify such extreme measures against exposure.”

“Which places both Philip and Anna in danger,” Beatrice concluded, a chill running down her spine.

“And potentially you as well,” Leo added, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Though I give you my word, Duchess. No harm will come to you while you bear my name and protection.”

The vehemence in his declaration startled her. There was something fiercely protective in his gaze that went far beyond their formal arrangement, sending an unexpected warmth through her chest.