Page 71 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

Chapter Twenty-Two

“This one”—Leo lifted one of Lady Margaret’s notebooks and carefully turned it over in his hands as he examined the sketches, tracing a delicate fern with his finger—“should be transcribed first, then published.”

Beatrice leaned closer, her eyes following the intricate details he indicated. “It is exquisite,” she murmured. “She had such an eye for both accuracy and beauty.”

Leo’s gaze met hers, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Indeed. And it is high time the world knew her work. And her name.”

Three days had passed since he had shown Beatrice the hidden library. True to her word, she had thrown herself into helping him catalog the extensive collection, spending hours deciphering faded annotations and organizing scattered manuscripts.

Leo watched her now, bent over a particularly detailed illustration of a rare orchid, her dark curls escaping their pins as she worked. Something tightened in his chest, a sensation both unfamiliar and increasingly frequent in her presence.

“Her observations were truly decades ahead of her time,” Beatrice agreed without looking up, carefully turning the delicate page. “These hybridization experiments alone would cause quite a stir in botanical circles.”

“Under her full name,” Leo added firmly.

Beatrice smiled, setting the manuscript aside. “Oh, your grandfather would be rolling in his grave.”

“Precisely,” Leo replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps that’s part of the appeal.”

“Speaking of things your father would have disapproved of,” Beatrice said, her expression turning more serious. “I’ve been thinking about Philip and Anna.”

“As have I,” Leo admitted, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been alerted about Anna’s condition.”

Beatrice’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve noticed too?”

“The way Adrian described her symptoms in our last conversation—the fatigue, the sickness, her emotional state… It wasn’t difficult to discern.”

“I suspected as much when we found her,” Beatrice said. “The way she held herself, protected her stomach.” She hesitated. “Does it complicate matters, in your view?”

Leo considered the question. The complicated tangle of emotions he had once felt regarding his cousin had simplified in recent weeks. The anger at Philip’s cowardice, the unexpected jealousy over his prior relationship with Beatrice… these had faded in the wake of what had grown between him and his wife.

“It changes the timeline,” he said finally. “We need to bring her here sooner rather than later. Anna needs proper care.”

“Here?” Beatrice couldn’t hide her surprise. “You would bring her to Stagmore?”

“Why not? The estate is remote enough to provide protection. The old gamekeeper’s cottage could be prepared for her.”

“That’s remarkably generous,” Beatrice remarked, studying him.

Leo shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Family matters. And we’ll have to catch Westbury soon, so that Philip can marry her. Before her condition becomes obvious.”

“A private ceremony here at Stagmore?”

Leo nodded. “With proper witnesses. We’ll record it appropriately, but without fanfare. The child will be legitimate, if slightly premature, according to the official dates.”

“Regardless, the ton will talk because of her status,” Beatrice pointed out.

“Let them,” Leo replied with unexpected vehemence. “Philip and Anna have suffered enough. I won’t allow their child to bear any more pain if I can prevent it.”

Beatrice placed her hand on his shoulder, her touch warming him through the layers of his clothing. “Have I told you lately how much you’ve changed?”

“You’ve had a dangerous influence on me,” he teased, though the truth of her words settled deep in his chest.

“Such flattery,” Beatrice said, her expression turning serious again. “Have you received news about Westbury?”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “They’ve traced his movements to Dover. It appears he’s planning to flee to France.”

“Will they catch him before he sails?”