Page 43 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

“He is not what Society perceives him to be,” she said carefully. “There is more depth to his character than his reputation would suggest.”

Her friend smiled knowingly. “The best husbands often reveal their true characters gradually,” she observed. “Lysander certainly did. I thought him cold and arrogant when we first met, but I discovered great tenderness beneath his reserved exterior.”

“Do you truly believe that, Georgina?” Beatrice asked, cradling her teacup as she contemplated her friend’s words.

The porcelain was delicate beneath her fingers, the tea’s heat seeping through the fine china, much like the warmth that had begun to permeate the icy barriers she had constructed around her expectations of matrimony.

“That a man’s true character reveals itself only with time?”

“I do,” Georgina replied, a knowing smile playing across her refined features. “Men of consequence guard their vulnerabilities with particular vigilance. Society expects such fortresses from them: never to show weakness, never to reveal the heart beneath the title.”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a confidential murmur that transformed their conversation from social pleasantry to an intimate exchange.

“But in private moments, when obligations and expectations fall away… that is when one glimpses the man beneath.”

The observation struck Beatrice with uncomfortable precision, recalling as it did her husband’s unexpected tenderness toward Anna, as well as the fierce protectiveness that had flashed in his eyes when he spoke of keeping her safe.

These were not the actions of the detached aristocrat who had proposed their convenient arrangement, but of a man with depths she had scarcely begun to explore.

Depths that, most disconcertingly, she found herself increasingly drawn to investigate.

“You’re blushing, Bea,” Georgina observed with delicate amusement, her eyes bright with the perspicacity that had always characterized their friendship, even before she became a duchess. “How fascinating. I begin to suspect the Duke’s renowned charm has not left you entirely unmoved.”

“It is merely warm in here,” Beatrice protested, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed the falsehood.

She busied herself with smoothing the skirt of her dress, a diversionary tactic as transparent as it was ineffective before her friend’s perceptive gaze.

“Of course,” Georgina agreed with diplomatic insincerity, selecting a small confection from the tiered stand between them with deliberate care. “Though I must say, for a marriage entered so hastily, you seem remarkably… compatible.”

The word hung between them, laden with implications that Beatrice found herself increasingly unable to deny, even to herself.

Compatibility suggested harmony, a natural alignment of temperaments that transcended the practical arrangement she had believed their union to be.

The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. Discovering genuine feelings where one had expected only pragmatic alliance threatened the careful equilibrium she had maintained since their hasty nuptials.

“Lysander and I found our compatibility rather unexpectedly,” Georgina continued, offering this confidence with the casual intimacy of true friendship. “What began as duty transformed gradually into genuine attachment. These transitions often occur beneath our conscious awareness, like the changing ofseasons. You hardly notice the change until you suddenly find yourself in an entirely different landscape.”

Beatrice allowed herself a small smile, savoring the candor and ease that Georgina offered so freely.

“It must be a comfort to discover such harmony after the uncertainty of early marriage,” she said, her voice softer now, tinged with both admiration and longing.

“A comfort, yes,” Georgina agreed, leaning back gracefully. “Though one must also remain vigilant. Life has a way of testing even the strongest of unions. The key is noticing the subtle shifts before they grow into something more.”

Beatrice considered this, her thoughts drifting involuntarily to her own household. She recalled small moments: Leo’s deliberate care in protecting Anna, the quiet authority he wielded when danger loomed, the rare glimpses of humor that broke through his controlled exterior.

Could these be the beginnings of the subtle alignment Georgina spoke of?

“It is strange, isn’t it?” Beatrice mused aloud. “How swiftly circumstances can change. One believes a path is fixed, only to find oneself somewhere entirely unexpected.”

“Strange, yes,” Georgina agreed, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “And yet there is a certain delight in thatunpredictability. One grows, one discovers new truths… about others, and about oneself.”

Beatrice smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest. “I suppose it is the surprises that keep life… interesting.”

“Indeed,” Georgina said with quiet amusement. She reached out, taking Beatrice’s hands in a gesture of sincere affection. “You will find your own way, Bea. And when you do, you will know it. Not because anyone will tell you, but because you will feel it.”

Beatrice’s lips curled into a small, reflective smile. The thought was comforting yet thrilling, hinting at possibilities she had not allowed herself to consider until now.

She felt the stirring of something new. A tentative hope that perhaps there could be more than mere alliance in this unexpected marriage.