Page 59 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

Philip nodded, then hesitated, his gaze darting between them once more. “I truly am sorry,” he said quietly. “For the position I put you both in. For running when I should have stayed. For everything.”

Beatrice stepped forward, taking his hand in both of hers. “It’s done now,” she said with gentle firmness. “We move forward together.”

Leo watched them, these two people who had changed his life. His cousin, whose rash actions had triggered a chain of events that still unfolded around them. And Beatrice, the woman who had become his wife through necessity but was rapidly becoming… something else entirely.

Something he had neither planned nor anticipated, yet found himself increasingly unwilling to relinquish. Something he still did not wish to name.

But he knew she was his. He knew that much.

Leo caught Beatrice’s eye, his heart fluttering at the way she smiled back at him.

God, how he had been able to resist her all this time… he couldn’t quite comprehend. Something had shifted between them, something he didn’t have words for.

Whatever had begun at that storm-lashed inn would need to be addressed, eventually. But first, they had a cousin to save and a criminal to bring to justice.

“I’m going to call for the driver,” Beatrice announced.

Leo blinked, his hands clenching. “Be careful,” he said, seeing no use in stopping her from doing whatever she had already conceived in her mind.

His wife, he had come to know, didn’t look all that headstrong, but her disposition was but a mere smokescreen.

And you enjoy it.

Yes. Yes, he did.

“Of course,” she replied, “I am always careful.”

And always wanting to have the last word, too. How he wanted to kiss that sharp mouth of hers.

The door closed behind her, and Leo was left alone with his cousin.

Chapter Nineteen

“You married her.” Philip’s words weren’t a question but a statement of disbelief, whispered after Beatrice had left to speak with their driver. “You actually married her.”

Leo turned away from the window, where he had been watching his wife cross the small garden path, her graceful figure moving with purpose despite the uneven ground. “As I said, the circumstances demanded immediate action.”

“And yet…” Philip studied him intently. “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”

“You’ve been in the country for too long, Cousin. The sheep must be telling you stories now,” Leo said lightly, though something in his chest tightened at his cousin’s observation.

Philip laughed again. “Stories, is it? You know I’m right. Good God, Leo, you practically burn holes through the air when you look at her.”

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Leo scoffed, though he felt heat rising to his face. An unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation.

Philip’s expression softened. “I should apologize properly. For dragging you into this scandal, for disappearing, for?—”

“Enough,” Leo cut him off. “It’s done. You don’t need to keep pressing the point.”

“But I do.” Philip stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never wanted to put anyone at risk, least of all Beatrice. Or you.”

Leo sighed. “I know that. You’ve always been impulsive, but never malicious.”

“You look different,” Philip said abruptly, his head tilting as he studied him. “It’s been what? A year, maybe two, since I last saw you? But it’s not just time. Something’s changed. You seem… lighter somehow.”

Leo shrugged, turning back to the window. “People change.”

“Not you.” Philip’s voice carried a certainty that pricked Leo’s composure. “Not the immovable Duke of Stagmore. At least, not until now. It’s her, isn’t it?”