Page 24 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“ Y ou might not believe me, but I tried my hardest to ignore everything you said to me three nights ago,” Juliana said, her arms folded over her chest, her eyes trained on her target, who sat up when she entered without knocking.

“Whatever do you mean?” Vincent asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Do not pretend you do not know what I speak of, because it was the last conversation we had. I do not feel comfortable with the awkward silence, and I have come to say my piece.”

Vincent took a deep breath and settled into his wingback chair, watching her, his index finger pressed to his lower lip.

Juliana bit back the moan that threatened to shatter her resolve. Yes, her husband was a handsome man, but he was also insufferable when he wanted to be, and he annoyed her whenever he did this.

She had given him enough time, more than enough time to come to her and apologize for how rudely he’d spoken to her, but he never showed up. He shut himself in his study like he always did, putting his work before everything and everyone.

“I’m all ears,” Vincent said after a beat.

“I am your wife. It seems you fail to recognize that small fact from time to time,” she huffed, stepping closer to his mahogany desk. “It does not sit well with me whenever you speak to me in that manner and then proceed to avoid me as though I have the plague. As though I am a nuisance, or perhaps an obstacle.”

Vincent stiffened at that, his eyebrows knitting together. “Juliana…” he began.

But she held up her arm, cutting him off. “Do not bother saying you did not mean it. It is far too late now. You may not mean it now, but you meant it then, and that is what matters to me.”

Juliana wasn’t sure how to interpret the look in his eyes. Perhaps she shouldn’t bother. But how could she, when he looked angry and hurt at the same time?

“I will stay out of your work life, but I need my husband.”

Vincent rose to his feet instantly and rounded his desk to close the distance between them. Juliana hated it, and she had wanted to go to him when she entered, but she knew it would do her no good.

He marched toward her and wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“I apologize, wife,” he muttered against her neck, inhaling her scent while tightening his grip on her.

“A single apology will not cut it. It seems you are not aware of the severity of your offenses,” she huffed, pushing him away.

Vincent chuckled but quickly turned it into a cough when he caught her glare.

He stepped closer, leaned down, and whispered in her ear in a voice so deep and husky that she felt her sex throb, “What would you have me do to show my sincerity?”

But Juliana recovered quickly. She cupped his face in her hand and turned his gaze to hers, surprising him if his wide eyes were anything to go by.

“All I want is communication. I would much rather know that I have offended you and how I have done so directly from your lips. I would also prefer it if you do not invalidate how I feel about anything. I understand that the work you do for the Crown is important to you, but I should be important to you as well.”

Vincent rested his forehead on hers, his eyes fluttering shut as he cradled her face.

“You are important to me, but you must understand the frustrations surrounding this mission. The closer the end, the more dangerous it becomes. I merely want to keep you safe. I do not want you to get hurt because of me.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Look at me. I am capable of caring for myself enough not to get hurt, so you do not have to worry about me.”

Juliana bit her lower lip. He made perfect sense, but she simply wanted to help him. Perhaps she should take a step back and remove herself from the matter. Vincent was strong enough to handle it—he did say so himself.

“Alright then,” she relented, ready to step away, but he did not let her.

“I mean it when I say that your safety is my top priority. This was the reason I never wanted to marry, let alone someone I fancied. No matter what I do, I have a duty to you, which is to protect you from whatever harm may come your way due to the nature of my work. But I can only do so when you listen to me, Juliana. It is the only way this will work.”

The way his voice slightly quivered undid Juliana. He meant every word he said. He wanted nothing but to make sure that she was unharmed, and her stubbornness had more or less gotten in his way.

“I’ll try my best.” She smiled, peeling his hands from her face and wrapping hers around his neck. “On one condition, however.”

Vincent cocked his eyebrows, curious.

“Anything,” he said, regardless.

“You will not push me away. I’m still your wife, after all, and it’s my duty to worry about you.”

At that, a smile spread across his face, which in turn put a smile on her own.

“I promise that I will not push you away,” he murmured before pressing his lips to hers.

Juliana melted into the kiss instantly. She had missed this—had missed him —because whenever he stayed away from her, she felt as though he was punishing her for crimes she did not commit.

“This dress, this color on you, is perfection,” Vincent muttered, his voice husky, which made Juliana blush instantly.

“You said that already,” she pointed out, swatting at his chest.

But Vincent did not budge. He had been like that since yesterday after she visited his study, and today he was not much different.

The carriage ride to Lord Trenton’s residence had been the worst of all, as his lips had remained latched to the crook of her neck.

Juliana did not wish to think about it, but she had an inkling that if she were to take a look at the area, she would find a mark there. It had been a chore pushing him off her as they alighted from the carriage, and she’d thought he would be careful with both their reputations when they were out in public, but he had argued that no one would recognize them behind their masks, so they were free to do whatever they wanted.

“I can say it as much as I want.”

His voice pulled her back to the present, and she sucked in a breath when he took her hands and placed soft kisses on them.

“We must behave ourselves tonight. Most especially you,” she warned with narrowed eyes.

Vincent stiffened momentarily. She was referring to his and Somerton’s plan to apprehend Norfield tonight.

To Juliana, Norfield was most likely to show up, since it was a masquerade ball. Most people, including them, were hardly recognizable. Some of the guests went as far as dressing up as characters from plays and were strutting around the ballroom with no care in the world. So she thought it would be best if Vincent kept his focus on looking for Norfield, instead of sucking on the crook of her neck for the umpteenth time.

“I told you that I have this under control, didn’t I?” Vincent reminded her with a raised eyebrow.

Juliana took a deep breath, nodding.

He did tell her that, but she feared with how distracted he was, he wouldn’t have time to catch Norfield.

“It’s just…” she trailed off, filtering out the best words to get her point across. “I would hate for it to be my fault if, for whatever reason, you’re unable to apprehend him tonight.”

Vincent shook his head, his brow creasing slightly as he pulled her in for a hug.

“I have this under control. It’s not your fault that you’re astonishingly beautiful.”

His words did not do much to reassure her, but she took them. She would believe that he had everything under control.

“Will Lord Somerton make it tonight? I fear I have yet to see a figure that looks like him,” Juliana asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“He should be scouting the premises as we speak. He’s good at hiding in the shadows.”

She nodded. No wonder her husband didn’t seem bothered with searching for Norfield.

She opened her mouth to speak. However, the clearing of a throat behind her cut her off. She turned immediately, only for a smile to spread across her lips.

Though the young lady was dressed in a golden dress, with a black-and-gold mask to match, Juliana knew instantly it was Portia.

“I have been sitting over there for nearly half an hour, waiting for the right time to approach, Your Grace, but it seems you want your wife all to yourself, and I shall not have it.” Portia’s voice held a hint of humor, but Juliana knew her friend was not jesting.

Vincent chuckled, seeming stunned by Portia’s directness. “You cannot blame me, can you? Your friend looks ravishingly beautiful.”

They all laughed.

“Since you have someone to keep you company now, I shall go look for Somerton. Hopefully, he had good news for me,” Vincent said.

He leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Juliana’s lips, then disappeared into the crowd of masked men and women.

“Marriage seems to be treating you both well, I see,” Portia remarked, her lips curled into a smile.

“Well enough, but we have our bad days. It is not rosy, but it is far better than what I bargained for, I admit.”

Portia nodded. “This is the most realistic response I have gotten from any married woman our age. The rest seem to live in a state of chronic delusion, all responding that their married lives have never been better, yet you can see that they are miserable,” she sighed.

It seemed she’d been holding onto the thought for such a long time.

“You seem exceptionally worried.” Juliana took her friend’s hand in her own.

Portia sighed. “My father has begun considering my marriage prospects—which, by the way, is your fault. Since you got married, now all he does is remind me of it. But his actions have prompted me to think about marriage, the type of union I want, and all of that…”

Juliana felt the urge to hug her friend. Portia never cared much about anything, but Juliana could tell she cared a lot about her married life.

“I wish I had the right words to tell you. My marriage happened unexpectedly, as you know, and it was far from the best at the beginning, with days of silence between us,” Juliana admitted.

Portia sucked in a breath. “Why didn’t you write to me? I would’ve ridden down to Blackmoor and given your duke the beating of his life.”

“Perhaps you should refrain from wanting to beat up people, now that you are considering marriage.”

Portia shook her head. “I’m afraid my husband would have to live with the fact that I’ll forever be ready to fight for those who are dear to me.”

“And for that alone, I’m eternally grateful for you,” Juliana quipped.

Both ladies laughed. However, at the same moment, Juliana saw a figure enter the ballroom, and her heart dropped.

It could not be Geoffrey. He wouldn’t walk in through the doors as though he was not a fugitive.

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought.

She forced her gaze away from the man, trying her best to focus on her friend and what she was talking about, which included the latest daring fashions, but she couldn’t.

She grew even more distracted when the man turned, revealing his mask to be the colors of a mythical phoenix, with its reds, yellows, and oranges, topped by same-colored stray feathers, as though truly depicting the bird.

It was all the confirmation Juliana needed to know that the man was indeed Geoffrey.

In the one month they had been engaged, one of the things they did almost frequently was going on long walks, and during those long walks, Juliana got to know him better—a little bit better, because they didn’t always talk while they walked. However, on one of their walks, Geoffrey had spoken nonstop about his admiration for the mythical phoenix and had told her about its colors, even going so far as taking her to a small bookshop to show her a depiction of it. And now he was wearing a mask that seemed born out of the same image.

“That’s him!” she cried out, though she did not realize she had done it until Portia spoke.

“Who do you speak of?”

Juliana paused, blinking a few times as realization dawned on her, before she shook her head.

“My uncle,” she replied quickly, hoping Portia wouldn’t detect her lie.

Portia looked over to the area and shrugged, showing that she did not care one bit about Francis.

Juliana scanned the ballroom, searching for the familiar tall figure that belonged to her husband to alert him of Geoffrey’s presence, but he was nowhere to be seen.

By now, what little focus had been reserved for Portia had gone straight to keeping an eye on Geoffrey while she searched through the crowd for Vincent.

A part of her told her that Vincent had most likely seen Geoffrey and must have known how to distinguish between him and others. But then she recalled how freely Geoffrey had walked into the ballroom. It definitely meant he had something up his sleeves, and it would be wrong of her to ignore it.

She decided then that no matter what happened, she would keep her eyes on Geoffrey, just until Vincent returned.

Geoffrey stealthily went to greet the hosts by simply bowing to them and moving away, then he placed his hand on his mask and looked around—no doubt searching for controlled and calculated movements that might uncover the spies on his trail. When all seemed to be clear, he began moving.

His first stop was the refreshments table, where he picked up a slice of cake and munched on it. When a footman passed by with a tray of champagne, he snatched a flute and took a sip. When he finished eating and drinking, he paused to look around. His eyes paused on where Lord Trenton stood, and Juliana could tell he was up to something at that moment.

She had promised Vincent that she would stay out of his mission, especially tonight, since they knew Geoffrey was desperate and would not hesitate to hurt others to get what he wanted. But she had her sights on him, and it only made sense for her to at least do something to aid Vincent and the mission.

When Geoffrey began walking toward the stairs that led to the second floor of the ballroom, Juliana knew she had to move. So, with a quick kiss on Portia’s cheek and the promise of returning soon, she began following Geoffrey.

She kept at least three people between them, so she wouldn’t seem suspicious and get caught. If there was one thing she had learned about Geoffrey these last weeks, it was that he was skilled and very smart.

Her heart began pounding in her chest when he walked out of the ballroom after checking his surroundings to make sure the coast was clear. She hesitated, her eyes still searching for Vincent or even Lord Somerton in the crowd. She should’ve left a message about her whereabouts with Portia, but she’d been in such a hurry to go after Geoffrey that she didn’t think of it. However, now that she thought about it, it might be for the better, as the last thing she wanted to do was drag Portia into something she knew nothing about.

With a deep breath, Juliana made up her mind to keep following Geoffrey. All she would do was keep her eyes on him and nothing more, just until Vincent arrived.

With renewed focus, she stepped out of the ballroom to find Geoffrey in the corridor, pressing his shoulder against the door he was attempting to open. Anger flared in Juliana’s chest, and she waited until he entered the room before she went after him, walking slowly until she stood before the half-open door.

Her hand hovered above the door knob. She had two options. She could either wait outside the door until either Vincent or Lord Somerton arrived—but that would give Geoffrey enough time to search for whatever he was after—or she could barge in and distract him to buy some time for Vincent or Lord Somerton.

Both options weighed on her, but instead of pondering too much on it, she did the first thing that came to her mind—she entered the room, making sure to leave the door open in any case she’d have to escape.

“I did think it was you following me around, but I simply didn’t want to believe it,” were the first words that greeted her.