Page 42 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

For a long moment, they simply regarded each other, the silence between them charged with unspoken acknowledgment.

Beatrice studied the blue of his eyes, the way the firelight cast shadows on his strong features, and the subtle tension in his posture as he restrained some deep emotion.

“The hour grows late,” he said finally, breaking the spell with evident reluctance. “You should rest. Tomorrow brings new challenges; I have no doubt.”

“Yes,” she agreed, though she lingered for a heartbeat, unwilling to let the connection fade entirely. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”

He bowed with formal courtesy that nonetheless conveyed genuine respect. “Goodnight, Duchess. Sleep well.”

As Beatrice made her way to her chambers, her thoughts were in disarray. Her husband was revealing himself to be far more complex than she had anticipated. Honorable beneath his rakish reputation, compassionate despite his cultivated detachment.

She did not know what to think of this revelation.

And, for the moment, she did not wish to think at all.

The Windermere townhouse presented a welcoming prospect, its elegant facade warmed by the afternoon sunlight as Beatrice ascended the steps.

She was greeted by a butler whose dignified bearing reminded her fleetingly of Edmonds at Stagmore Manor, then was ushered into a drawing room where her friend awaited.

“Beatrice, darling!” Georgina rose to embrace her warmly. “How wonderful to see you. It’s been an age since we’ve had a proper conversation.”

“Georgina.” Beatrice returned the embrace with genuine affection. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ve missed our talks.”

Georgina gestured toward a settee before the fireplace, where a tea service awaited. “Come, sit. I want to know everything since we last talked at the ball. How are you finding married life now? Any more… kisses?”

Beatrice sat down, accepting a delicate porcelain cup with a murmured thanks even as her cheeks flushed.

“Georgina…” She tried to keep the whine out of her voice. “Do not tease me. It was rather… unexpected, you know.”

“The most romantic ones always are,” Georgina insisted, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Now, I believe you are taunting me.”

Georgina laughed loudly. “Oh, I would never do such a thing, Bea,” she said playfully. “It’s merely that… well, your life seems like something out of a romance novel.”

At that, Beatrice arched an eyebrow.

Georgina’s shoulders shook as if she were trying to suppress her giggles. “Oh, do think about it, Bea! Jilted at the altar, only to be swept away by the notorious Duke of Stagmore! You know I am right.”

“Then would you like to switch places with me?” Beatrice muttered, sipping her tea. “I would love for you to experience this romance novel life in my place.”

“All right, all right, I will stop teasing you,” Georgina conceded. “But seriously, Bea. Are you happy? I’ve worried about you, especially given the Duke’s… reputation.”

The question gave Beatrice pause.

How to explain the complexity of her marriage to her dear friend without revealing the arrangement’s true nature? She could not implicate Georgina in the increasingly dangerous circumstances surrounding Philip’s disappearance, nor could she fully articulate her confused feelings about a man who continually defied her expectations.

“It’s… not what I anticipated,” she admitted finally. “The Duke is a complex man. Improper at times, yes. But in truth, he’s been nothing but a gentleman toward me.”

Georgina studied her with perceptive eyes. “There’s something different about you, Bea. A new confidence, perhaps? Marriage agrees with you, it seems.”

Beatrice felt a flush rise to her cheeks, recalling the intensity of Leo’s gaze the previous evening, the unexpected tenderness in his treatment of Anna, the fierce protectiveness in his vow that no harm would come to her.

“I’m still getting acquainted with my role as Duchess,” she deflected, focusing on practical matters rather than the emotional confusion that threatened to overwhelm her. “The Stagmore townhouse is magnificent, though it requires considerable attention after the Duke’s extended absence.”

“And the Duke himself?” Georgina pressed gently. “Does he require similar attention?”

The question, though innocent, sent fresh warmth through Beatrice.