Page 12 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Twelve

“ I t is beautiful,” Juliana commented as she stepped out of the carriage, looking over the magnificent estate before her.

The carriage rolled along a cobbled path leading to the entrance, which stretched out to her left. There, she glimpsed the edge of what appeared to be a garden, the roof of a greenhouse barely visible amidst the greenery. Ivy-clad trees draped over the fence, creating a rich, colorful tapestry. But the true beauty lay in the tall mansion at the heart of it all.

Built from pale limestone and surrounded by meticulously crafted gravel pathways, the mansion gleamed in the soft light of the setting sun, its grandeur undeniable even against the fading day.

“Not as beautiful as the interior,” Vincent spoke with such pride that told her there was nowhere he’d rather be than here.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to the staff.” He extended his arm toward her and nodded his head toward the servants.

They had all lined up at the entrance of the mansion, waiting patiently to welcome her in.

Juliana placed her hand on his arm, letting him lead her to the curious faces.

Vincent began by introducing her to the butler, Lewis, who he claimed was Lincoln’s twin. Next, he introduced her to the housekeeper, Mrs. Holt, an older woman who seemed to be in her fifties, with a warm face and a motherly smile. She had worked for the family since she was just a young girl and had dedicated her life to caring for the duke’s family even after having a family of her own.

Mrs. Holt stepped up to her, taking her hand in her own. “Your Grace, if I may interrupt. I believe the introductions can be saved for a later time. Her Grace must be exhausted from the journey.”

Vincent looked between both women and nodded. “Very well then. Show the Duchess to her chambers, and see to it that she is provided with everything she desires,” he instructed.

With that, he disappeared into the mansion, leaving Juliana behind with the rest of the staff.

“Would you prefer a quick tour of the estate, or would you prefer to be shown your chambers, Your Grace?” Mrs. Holt asked.

Juliana shook her head. “I would prefer to be shown to my chambers, please. I want nothing more than to be out of this dress, this instant,” she said softly.

Mrs. Holt, along with the few servants nearby, giggled.

“If you’d follow me, Your Grace,” she urged.

“It seems you do not care much about traveling?” Mrs. Holt noted as they entered the mansion.

The interior was every bit as grand as Vincent had promised, but at that moment, Juliana couldn’t bring herself to care. She had endured her dress far longer than her body would allow, and the need to be rid of it was overwhelming.

Mrs. Holt led her up a flight of stairs and into the west wing of the mansion, where two doors stood at the far end.

“The first door leads to His Grace’s chambers, and this door,” Mrs. Holt said, pushing open the second door, “leads to yours.”

It was the largest room Juliana had ever seen, far grander than the finest suite at Ridgewell House. The space seemed to stretch on endlessly, its opulence nearly suffocating.

There were three doors in the room, two of which Juliana assumed led to a washroom and a closet. The third door, however, was a mystery to her.

“What is behind those doors?” she asked.

With an eager smile, Mrs. Holt opened the first two doors, revealing just what Juliana had suspected.

“This door,” she continued, placing her hand on the handle of the third door without opening it, “leads to His Grace’s chambers.”

Juliana blinked, certain she hadn’t heard the older woman correctly.

“Do you have any more questions, Your Grace?” Mrs. Holt asked, folding her hands in front of her.

Juliana shook her head, trying to look unbothered by the connecting door, but she just couldn’t.

She had thought that living in separate rooms would make her marriage easier, offering them both the privacy they needed without the fear of prying eyes. But the sight of a connecting door shattered that notion, replacing it with a torrent of wicked thoughts.

Her mind raced with what such a door might imply, filling her with an unexpected rush of both desire and uncertainty.

“I shall send in your lady’s maid to aid you with a bath and anything else you might need,” Mrs. Holt added with a bow, before she left the room.

A young, freckled blonde-haired girl entered shortly after, a smile on her face as she introduced herself as Eunice. She seemed to be in her early twenties, which put Juliana at ease.

Eunice had taken one look at Juliana and knew exactly what she needed without Juliana having to say a word. She had drawn her a bath, applied ointment on the scabs that had formed from the friction with her dress, and afterward, offered to massage her arms and legs, which was a pleasant surprise.

“You should rest, Your Grace. I shall return to dress you for dinner when it is time,” Eunice said softly, and with that, she excused herself.

Juliana released a deep sigh, finally left alone with her thoughts. It had been such a long day, and so much had changed in the span of mere hours, or perhaps weeks.

In just a few weeks, she had gone from celebrating her month-long engagement to Geoffrey to being the Duchess of Blackmoor. She had uprooted her life from London and was about to settle in Blackmoor for the foreseeable future. She had gone from counting the houses and streets that would separate her from her family to counting miles.

The duties she would have had as a countess had doubled now that she was a duchess.

Truly, her life had taken a different turn than what she’d originally planned, and she could not complain because now, her being a duchess meant that her sisters would find respectable matches when they came of age.

“Surely I can do this,” Juliana mumbled to herself, sucking in a deep breath. Then, as she released it, she closed her eyes.

Rap! Rap!

Juliana’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of soft knocks on her door. At first, she’d thought it was from her dream, but when the sound wouldn’t stop, she knew she was doing something wrong.

“Your Grace, it’s Eunice. I have come to prepare you for dinner,” the maid called from the other side of the door.

“Come in,” Juliana called back.

Eunice rushed toward her the moment she opened the door.

“It seems you were far more tired than you let on, Your Grace,” she noted as she studied her mistress.

It would seem that Juliana’s face was the epitome of fatigue.

Juliana nodded. “I think so. It has been a while since I rode in a carriage for more than two hours,” she admitted, and the maid gasped. “Do you make the journey to London often?” she asked as Eunice went through her wardrobe to find the most suitable dresses for her first meal with her husband.

Eunice shook her head. “Not to London, Your Grace, but to other parts of the country, which usually take days.”

Juliana’s thoughts drifted to Vincent. He had mentioned working for the Crown, which she now understood was what he busied himself with when he wasn’t managing his duchy. He’d seemed unperturbed during the journey to Blackmoor, so she could only imagine that he spent days traveling from one place to the other, carrying out the Crown’s instructions.

“How often does my husband travel?” Juliana asked.

Her use of the word husband warmed her entire face.

“Very often, Your Grace,” Eunice responded. She paused, a peach-colored dress hanging over her arm as she turned slightly to Juliana, before returning her attention to the dresses. “However, I believe His Grace might cut back on his travels now that he has a wife.”

Juliana smiled at her maid’s attempt at comforting her, but Vincent’s travels were more than welcome.

In the next few minutes, Eunice dedicated her time to making Juliana look utterly dainty with her updo and some light makeup. Juliana stared at herself in the mirror, feeling every bit the duchess she was in the cornflower blue dress she’d picked, which accentuated her dark hair and eyes.

She arrived at the dining room to find Vincent already sitting at the head of the table. The corners of his lips curled into a slight smirk, but he said nothing.

While the maids served their meal, Juliana could not help but feel discomfited by the silence that followed the soft clinking of tableware.

She pressed her lips together, her left index finger scratching her right thumb under the table, her stomach in knots for no apparent reason.

Her eyes flickered to Vincent. He seemed unbothered by the awkwardness between them, making her wonder if she was foolish for worrying herself with a matter so trivial.

A sigh escaped her lips, and for a moment, she stilled, suddenly feeling the weight of his gaze on her. She knew, without even looking up, that he was going to comment on it, like he had in the carriage earlier that day.

But, to her surprise, he did not say a word.

Instead, Mrs. Holt stepped forward. “Is something not to your liking, Your Grace?” she asked, concern written on every inch of her face.

Juliana raised her eyes to the older woman as she sucked in a breath. “Of course not. Everything looks wonderful, thank you,” she responded.

Mrs. Holt nodded, stepping back to her spot by the door.

When the maids finished serving their meal and returned to the kitchen, Juliana felt like she could breathe again, but the sigh that escaped her lips this time did not go unnoticed by Vincent.

“Truly, if something is not to your liking, you can say the word, and I shall have it changed,” he said.

Juliana looked up from her filled plate, her lips pressed together, contemplating if she should voice her thoughts.

“It has nothing to do with the meal. I haven’t tried it yet, but I reckon everything tastes great,” she responded.

Vincent didn’t say a word. Instead, he stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

Juliana knew he was asking her a silent question.

So, what is your issue?

“I was merely wondering if this is what married life looks like, sitting across from each other in frosty silence,” she said softly.

Vincent dropped the fork in his hand on his plate, clasped his hands together, and stared right at her. “Would you prefer we pretend otherwise? Start a cheerful conversation about the weather?”

Juliana did not appreciate his sarcasm, and she scrunched up her nose, squaring her shoulders in a way that showed she was not about to back away.

“Perhaps I would,” she responded cheekily. “Anything would be far better than this oppressive silence.”

Vincent scoffed. “You mistake peace for oppression. I was under the impression you would appreciate a respite from my words, since it seems all I do is annoy you.”

Juliana shook her head, taking her fork to stab the piece of steak on her plate. “Your annoying presence I can handle, Your Grace. What I cannot handle is being treated like an obligation you resent. The aloofness you seem to put on whenever I am around you.”

Vincent leaned back, clearly enjoying their exchange. “I do not take well to accusations, duchess.”

“So you say, but you had no problems accusing me of working with Geoffrey back at Lord Montford’s study. A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“Now you judge my character?”

“Simply because you gave leverage for it to be judged.”

Silence settled between them once more, but it didn’t last long, as a thought crossed Juliana’s mind. Vincent seemed to be in a light mood, which, in her opinion, was the perfect opportunity to bring up what had been eating away at her.

“I have been wondering,” she began, searching his eyes. “What the situation with Geoffrey is.”

Vincent’s eyebrows drew down, a faint crease marring his forehead as he watched her. “It hasn’t even been a day, but it seems I have to remind you that you are a married woman.”

Juliana tilted her head slightly, pursing her lips as she tried to make sense of his words.

“How does being a married woman correlate with what I asked?”

“You seem to still harbor a sense of familiarity with Norfield,” he drawled.

“How so?”

“Geoffrey,” he said simply, giving her a hard look that sent a chill down her spine.

Juliana rolled her eyes. “It is what I grew accustomed to calling him, and you know I mean nothing by it.”

“No, I do not know.” His eyes were drilling holes into her face, the look in them accusatory.

“Are you by any chance suggesting infidelity? Or you are saying this on purpose to deter me from seeking answers from you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“That is a separate issue and has nothing to do with my irritation at your referring to a traitor of the Crown with his given name.”

Juliana sucked in a breath, placing her hands on the marble surface as she rose to her feet, her annoyance clear in every line of her body. She could see right through him—she knew he was deflecting, spinning an issue out of nothing simply because he didn’t want to tell her anything about Geoffrey.

Her frustration flared higher, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—something important.

“Since you are so irritated with me, I shall spare you the burden of my presence,” she said with a subtle curtsy—another force of habit—and began walking away from the table.

However, Vincent halted her retreat with a firm hand on her arm, his blue eyes boring into hers.

“Leave us!” he commanded the footmen who stood guard by the door, his eyes never leaving hers.

Juliana tried to pull her arm free from his grasp, but she was no match for the strength of his large hand and the unyielding presence that rooted her to the spot. His grip was firm, unwavering, and despite her resistance, she found herself unable to break free.

As the footmen scampered out of the dining room, Vincent advanced on her, forcing her to walk backward until she was pressed against the wall, his annoyance evident in the storm brewing in his eyes.

“You are my wife now. And whether you like it or not, you will behave.” His voice, deep, angry, and sensual, sent a ripple of awareness through her.

She had been taken by surprise when he’d stopped her from leaving, but as she stood there, with his body pressing deliciously into hers, she felt her boldness rising anew.

She pushed him back, catching him off-guard.

“Or what?” she challenged, arching an eyebrow.

His blue eyes darkened, dropping to her lips momentarily before flicking back to her face, flashing with a subtle warning.

Juliana’s heart was beating erratically, but she didn’t back down.

Vincent stepped away from her, releasing her arm as he took a deep breath.

“Know this, duchess—you’re under my protection now. Whatever comes, you will always be safe here. And as I told you before, the less you know, the safer you’ll be.”