Page 12 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

G enevieve nodded at the kitchen maid who delivered the final course, dessert, to their supper table.

There was a pause in the conversation when the final couple of dishes had been brought out, along with the occasional hold while she chewed or Julian had to think. Even in the gaps, the quiet, she didn’t think there was too much awkward or tension. It was practically a companionable meal.

This wasn’t at all what I expected.

She couldn’t resist glancing over at him as he smiled at the maid before looking down at his plate.

They were having orange jelly with fruits and nuts.

Already full, she wasn’t certain she would be able to manage another bite.

But there was Julian diving into the sweet like they hadn’t already enjoyed several fine courses.

Everyone said fare was typically simpler when out in the country since households couldn’t always rely on large markets.

But they were prepared here. Though the butler had said earlier they weren’t quite ready for their arrival––her bath water had been chilly and there was still dust on the frames––but they had done much better than she might have expected with supper.

Much of this has actually gone better than I thought it would. The estate is beautiful, Julian is behaving himself, I’ve managed to keep my tongue in, and the meal was delicious. It all feels like a very strange dream.

“Don’t you like jelly?”

She blinked, glancing from her plate to her husband. It was impossible to take that word seriously. For nearly a year, the word had been nothing but emptiness to her. Before that, it had been an intimidating shadow.

Now, it was him.

The lift of his eyebrow could mean many a thing, she was learning in the short time they had spent in one another’s company. He raised one or both at any given time depending on what he was saying and what he wanted his words to mean. Amusement, suspicion, or concern.

“I’m sure it’s very good.” Genevieve set her finger down. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to eat another bite.”

“Surely a few more?”

She managed a tight smile. “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t prone to sweets?”

Both eyebrows lifted and she had to restrain her smile from widening. “Hardly. I cannot imagine a sweet face like yours not enjoying a bite of dessert. Especially not when it’s jelly.”

“Do you like jelly?”

“It’s a silly thing to put in your mouth,” Julian admitted with a self-effacing grin. “That’s what makes it all the more fun. As a child, it was an easy treat. I used to pretend it was all sorts of things with the nuts and squish them, like I was eating bugs.”

She wrinkled her nose as her stomach twisted. “Now, I don’t think I could take a bite if I tried.”

“I thought you were braver than that.”

“Oh no, do not mock me. I will not rise to the teasing. I have more pride than that,” she said defensively. There was a smile pulling at her lips she was hard pressed to let free. It was even harder when he played with his eyebrows. She stifled a giggle and shook her head.

“Very well, I will not press you further. It simply means I can enjoy dessert myself. And the rest of the servants. Unless…?”

“No,” she insisted. “I swear it, I am stuffed as those pheasants. Not another bite, truly.”

Though she meant to turn away, move her gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to stop looking at Julian. There was something about him.

Of course, Genevieve mused, she should know this.

The man was awfully witty and devilishly charming.

How often had the gossip rags found a reason to admire his blue eyes and darling golden hair?

How many times had she noted his name tied to some dramatic escapade or heard someone recite some flirtatious remark of his?

When he isn’t being insufferable, the man isn’t that awful. Handsome, even, especially when he smiles.

It was quite disconcerting to consider that she might not loathe her husband after all. At least during supper, she told herself. They would worry about everything else later. Perhaps in the morning.

And those beautiful eyes of his… They lifted to meet her gaze. Genevieve blinked and forced herself to drop her eyes at last. A warm flush crept up her cheeks that she tried to ignore.

It had to be the exhaustion, she supposed, that had her thinking that all might be well.

He is still the man that everyone points at and flirts with and cheers on for his dramatic adventures. No matter what, he is still the one who married me in the morning and left me in the afternoon. A flirt, a cad, a performer. A very skilled performer.

Promising herself she wouldn’t be anyone’s fool, Genevieve reminded herself of her purpose here. She would protect her reputation and the family name. But she would not be falling into a trap.

Silken words and flirtatious smiles will not win me over tonight or ever.

So she raised from her seat, ready to take her leave.

Women always left first to take themselves off to the drawing room again for tea.

Back during her childhood, she hadn’t seen her parents do this, but she had attended supper parties before since her coming out, so she knew it was done.

If it was only for the two at home, however, she wasn’t certain.

With the evening drawing late, it was best she leave either way.

“Oh, allow me.” Julian hastily rose from where he had been finishing off his dessert.

He hastened across the room in long strides so swiftly that she froze for a second. That gave him the chance to close the distance between them.

“It’s all right,” Genevieve said even as it was too late. “Please stay and finish, if you like. I’m afraid I’m more tired than I anticipated after our travels today. I can take myself to my rooms.”

“The night is late indeed,” he agreed. “Allow me to accompany you.”

She took a step back when he put out his arm. “That is hardly necessary. I don’t wish to take you away from finishing your meal,” she added hastily. “I didn’t mean to interrupt it.”

“What a delicious meal it was. But you’re saving me from overstuffing myself. I would be more than content to lead you to your room. After all, it is right beside mine.”

“Is it?” she asked, hoping no one heard the way her voice lifted an octave.

The man’s maddening smile widened. “Indeed. Shall we?”

Her lips parted with a protest waiting in the silence. Except she couldn’t hold onto her excuse. One glance toward the servants lingering across the room, she paused to rethink her ready reply.

She smiled. “Yes, let us take our leave. Thank you,” she added while putting her hand on his arm.

Though she tensed when he moved to pull her hand closer onto his arm, a gentle motion that had the kitchen maid sighing quietly in the corner, Genevieve managed to relax before following her husband out the doors opening for them.

While the footmen lingered behind, she could feel their gazes on her back as she walked down the hall with Julian.

It felt strange to be walking. To be at his side, to be taking step after step on the countless rugs in a home that might as well be her own.

All of these were normal human motions and yet she felt like a doll caught on strings, the motion pulling her along.

Genevieve realized her breath was too shallow and she cleared her throat before fixing that. Though Julian glanced her way, she didn’t turn to look at him. They walked up the grand staircase together slowly. She felt her heart lift into her throat. Did other couples act like this?

But then, Genevieve supposed, they kept going. They had established lives together. And when they reached the chamber doors, they might enter them together. She blinked rapidly as she laid eyes on the door of her chamber she had explored just a few hours prior.

Beside it was his own. She’d noted that previously but thought little of it earlier.

They passed his door and took several steps before landing in front of her own, where Julian brought them to a stop.

Her heart stopped beating. She hastily pulled her hand free of his arm, needing the distance.

And he certainly didn’t need to know how badly her hands were sweating in her thin gloves.

Turning to face her, Julian spread his lips in a wide grin. His gaze drifted over her face and then the rest of her. As she clasped her hands tightly together, taking a small step back, he met her gaze.

“You have nothing to worry about, Duchess,” he murmured in a droll tone as he twisted his lips. “Our bed chambers may be connected here, but I’m not in the habit of forcing myself where I’m not invited.”

She didn’t trust her voice. Instead, she gave a sharp nod. Her body felt so tight she feared one wrong move might make her break.

When Julian leaned forward, she could only flinch––and then her face heated in the low light as his hand settled on the handle so he might push the door open for her. She smelled his citrus scent for only a second before he was moving backward again.

Still he watched her. Still he smirked. “But, Duchess, should you ever change your mind… You know where to find me.”

The bold behavior was enough to make Genevieve react. She huffed loudly to hide the flustered feelings swimming about in her stomach. It felt like she had swallowed a bucketful of frogs. With a hand on her door, she sent him a hard stare. “Good night, Your Grace.”

He might have been winking when she took her leave, but she didn’t care. She swept inside and shut the door loudly to make her point heard.

If her dress had been any simpler, Genevieve might have been able to pull herself out of the garment. She would rather have the evening to herself. But the back buttons required assistance, so she called on her maid to assist her.

Elodie’s fingers dealt swiftly with the row of buttons and then she offered, “Shall I help you with your toilette, Your Grace?”

Although Genevieve had meant to keep Miriam, her lady’s maid from before her marriage, her mother had been rather stingy over the matter during the wedding. Miriam was still under her mother’s roof caring for Genevieve’s three sisters.

It had taken Genevieve three months to find the right maid since she hardly knew what she was doing. But they had been together since, and Elodie had arrived in a second carriage following theirs that day.

“Not tonight, thank you. I’m sorry if I woke you. I’ll mind myself after this,” Genevieve reassured her.

The young blonde woman beamed. “Oh it’s quite all right. I was busy meeting the household. They’re all very kind, you know, though some of the accents can be difficult at times. And there should be more folks coming in soon. It should be a very busy house indeed very soon.”

Hoping the girl didn’t see her wrinkling her nose, Genevieve said, “I do believe you’re right. But I’d advise you not to stay awake too soon. We’ll be keeping country hours, after all.”

With a curtsy, Elodie nodded. “You’re very right. If that will be all, then I shall be on my way to bed. Good night, my lady.”

At last Genevieve was alone.

She let her shoulders relax as she sat before her vanity.

It was a beautiful antique piece with three tilted mirrors.

She carefully unwound her hair before pulling out her comb.

This nightly routine always helped Genevieve to relax, letting the night settle in and to wipe away the worries of the day.

Candlelight flickered. She tilted her head to consider her features, knowing few might call her handsome.

Sharp, she had heard before, all angles.

Growing up, she had often felt like a clumsy calf not knowing what to do with herself.

Though she had done her best to instill every lesson by her governess and mother, Genevieve still struggled to remain graceful at times.

Testing a smile on her lips, she supposed they were too small. She pinched them in a pout before remembering her mother had always told her not to create wrinkles. Then she tested a smile on her mouth, and wondered if anyone might find that handsome on her.

“How ridiculous,” Genevieve murmured to herself with a quiet sigh, knowing it didn’t matter. None of this mattered. She was wed, after all, with no further plans of children or adventures amongst the ton. It didn’t matter what she looked like.

It would still be nice to look lovely when I smile, I suppose. I may not be particularly charming, but…

Julian’s curved lips were at the forefront of her mind once more, though she kept trying to push them back. She tried to scowl. But there was a lopsided, boyish quality to her husband’s grin that made her wonder and think and even dream a little about what it could mean.

She blinked at her reflection in the mirror to find her cheeks neatly spotted with a warm blush. A lump formed in her throat.

Pushing the comb down, Genevieve hurriedly left her mirror behind for her bed as though she might be safe there. As though Julian’s handsome gaze on her wouldn’t follow her wherever she went.