Page 82 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

“This is scandalous,” she whispered, but made no move to increase the distance between them.

“Oh, we’ve done worse, haven’t we?” He smirked at her.

She hit him on the shoulder. “Leo!”

“This is perfect.” His hand pressed against the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her through layers of silk. “No performance. No audience. Just us.”

His words seemed to calm her because she soon relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder.

Something in his chest cracked open. He didn’t want to name what that was, either.

They swayed together, the music drifting out like a distant dream, the night wrapping them in temporary solitude.

“I wrote to Philip today,” Beatrice said quietly. “To let him know about Westbury’s movements.”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “What did you tell him?”

“That we’re handling it. That he and Anna remain safe.” She pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “You don’t approve.”

“I approve of keeping him informed. I don’t approve of the worry I heard in your voice just now.”

“He’s my friend. I can’t help worrying about him.”

“I know.” Leo brushed a curl from her face. “Just as I can’t help wanting to shield you from every unpleasant thing in this world. Even though you’d throttle me for trying.”

Her smile softened. “I would. But I appreciate the impulse.”

“Do you?” He traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “Appreciate it?”

“Among other things.” Her breath caught as his hand slid to the nape of her neck. “Leo?—”

“We should go back inside,” he said, though he made no move to release her.

“Yes.”

“They’ll wonder where we’ve gone.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Neither of them moved.

The waltz ended, and another began. Leo committed this moment to memory—the way moonlight silvered her skin, how perfectly she fit against him, the trust in her eyes.

“I never thanked you,” he said suddenly.

“For what?”

“For seeing me, the real me, beneath all the…” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Everything else.”

Her hand came up to cup his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Leo. I am so honored to know the real you.”

Voices drifted from the ballroom, breaking the moment. Reality reasserted itself with jarring abruptness.

Leo stepped back reluctantly, offering his arm with exaggerated formality. “Shall we return to civilization, Duchess?”

“If we must.”

Inside, the party had reached its crescendo. Leo led them through clusters of guests, accepting congratulations and deflecting questions with practiced ease. Beatrice remained at his side, her presence grounding him when the crowd threatened to overwhelm him.