Page 36 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

A nother long night filled with regret loomed before Julian as he toppled into the blankets and pillows.

A heavy exhale escaped him. He closed his eyes. But that would offer him no proper retreat, not when he could feel Genevieve still so close to him.

He could still sense her though he had returned himself to where he belonged, trapping himself inside his bedchamber.

Had he really thought of kissing her? Of brushing her cheek and tugging on her curls?

He thought of her soft lips and pale feet, the way she sat so comfortably and cozy on the chaise like she belonged there.

The world belongs to her, so why not have it all?

“Genevieve,” Julian muttered and tossed an arm over his eyes as though that might help him block her from his mind.

There she still appeared. She lived there in his head like this was her new home. It was surely madness, he supposed, as he reflected on the day he had woken up drinking and convinced his friends he wasn’t too drunk to stand before the vicar with his bride.

“We didn’t think you were serious,” Ronan had told them. “There has to be another way to retain Southwick. I mean, it’s your country seat.”

“But not the property, it’s not entailed. I can’t lose the house,” Julian had snipped back. He’d been saying it nonstop for a month while sorting out the situation he had somehow found himself trapped in.

There was only one way through after weeks of studying the law and corresponding with solicitors about his options.

So he had taken another swig and announced, “It is all going to work out just as I intend, I assure you. I browsed through my options of available ladies. While a widow would certainly have been more pleasant, there are plenty of available women on the marriage mart. Too many, in case you haven’t noticed. ”

Ronan and Sebastian, still bachelors, exchanged looks. “We noticed.”

Julian smirked. “Of course you did. And I’ve picked myself the perfect bride.”

The three friends waited with bated breath. He let the tension rise between them until Ronan, ever impatient, huffed and spoke up. “Well? Who is it?”

“A desperate one.” Julian raised a hand.

“But not the most desperate. I don’t think she even knows she is desperate.

Her family is blue blood, but they’re not wealthy.

She is one of several daughters, no sons, and her father has passed.

While she is beautiful, the lady makes no waves and clearly doesn’t wish for it as she doesn’t frequent society half as much as the rest of us.

I shall get myself a wife, shutter her away, and then leave for my own fancy elsewhere. ”

“That is hardly kind of you,” Tristan groused while Ronan exclaimed, “Where are you going?”

“The navy, of course.”

He savored the shock on their faces before he turned to make his way down to the vicar. The archbishop should be around there somewhere, but had lost his voice and could no longer perform the ceremony. All Julian needed then was his wife.

When he next turned, he saw her. Lady Genevieve Harcourt, eldest daughter of the late Viscount of Richester.

Admittedly, she was lovely. Tall and classically beautiful with a certain sharpness to her.

Her dress was neat and tidy. There was no veil.

The flowers she carried had certainly seen better days.

And yet she walked with her chin up and a certain grit that warmed his heart, finding she was not going to be a fool.

She will be fine, he had thought at the time. We’ll be perfect strangers.

That memory haunted Julian when he took leave of London. And it had haunted him through the days following when he went through basic training and then took to the ships with the Royal Navy.

They hadn’t shared a proper kiss then nor had they shared one this evening, though Julian had been terribly tempted. He had never had qualms before about kissing a woman. And yet now…

He hesitated. There were risks now. He feared making a mistake when it came to Genevieve. Already he had been so vulnerable.

“I had to leave,” Julian told the empty room when he found the silence unbearable.

Shutting his eyes, he recalled too easily his desperation that morning, the only thing that held him up through the day. It had been a turning point for him. He’d ignored it for so long… and here he was a year, later, finally realizing why that stayed so frequently on his mind.

I felt so clever. So relieved, thinking this would handle the matter of my family. I could make myself clear without hurting anyone. They could be satisfied and so could I. Couldn’t we all win?

Except his family liked winning and apparently they had dragged his wife into the situation the moment they had the chance.

At least they will never have another duke to beg or make demands of, not from me or any child of mine.

And then he thought of what his children would look like. What Genevieve’s children would look like. He heard their laughter and saw their smiles, and it all punched him in the gut so hard he could barely breathe.

Why did he keep thinking of what he couldn’t have?

He huffed and rolled over, determined to make it through the night. And he did. It was a lot of tossing and turning, but the evening grew darker and then eventually began to lighten with the dawn. There were no dreams that came to him, though there lingered the thought of Genevieve’s soft lips.

“Your Grace?”

Jerking up, Julian looked around wildly. He was a rumpled mess in his blankets and the sun was shining too brightly for him. “What the devil is it? What time is it?”

“A quarter to twelve, Your Grace.” His valet hesitated, his eyes dropping down. “You have a guest who insists on your presence.”

He shifted back against the headboard so he could use his hands to rub his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I’m a duke. No one can insist on my presence.”

“Yes, your Grace. Very good, your Grace.”

Slumping, he sighed. The man clearly wanted to say something the way he rocked on his heels. Knowing his valet desired more than anything to tell him, and knowing he would have to go do something, he grudgingly asked, “Very well. Who is it? Did they share a card?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Grace. The butler inquired, but she claimed nothing was needed. The Honorable Lady Ashcombe says she will wait in your front parlor until you are able to attend her.”

A curse escaped his lips. He should have known it would be her after that letter he had sent back. But that had been his final response. What was she thinking? Climbing out of bed, Julian hastily pulled on the clothes that his valet had already been preparing for him.

They left behind the matter of his shaving and the tidying of his hair. Julian promised he would return for such matters later on, and made his way down to the front parlor.

Outside the door stood Mrs. Waverly with her hands on her hips like she had been waiting for him.

“How long has she been here? Has the duchess stopped in?”

Something clattered inside the room, making them both jump. He winced as Mrs. Waverly announced, “Her Grace welcomed our guest in over an hour ago.”

“Blast it. Someone should have woken me at once. It’s my family, my problem.”

Not that he used to think they were a problem. Had he been blind? Or had they changed? Julian didn’t know what to think about them.

“Shall I prepare a second tea tray?”

“No, she has had enough. We’ll keep it short, thank you.” Julian headed right inside where he found his youngest but most stubborn aunt, the only woman still wearing the Ashcombe name. She was huffing at pointing a finger at Genevieve.

But his wife stood with her arms crossed and her shoulders back. “I don’t appreciate the liberties you are taking, and I won’t have it. Nor will I go against my husband’s desires. I know what his letter said.”

“It can’t be true!”

Clearing his throat, he hastily moved forward. “Aunt Elizabeth! What a delight to find you here. I didn’t realize I had sent you an invitation to visit.”

Standing, the tall round woman pouted. Her hair was pulled tightly from her brow, and she wore brighter colors than he had remembered her wearing prior. He vaguely remembered her sneaking him peppermint sticks when he was just a lad.

And the endless requests for bills paid.

“Nephew! Oh, I have missed you, you naughty thing,” she said. “There is no need for you to talk to me like that. Do take a seat. Perhaps you can talk some sense into your little duchess.”

Seeing the way his wife bristled, Julian moved to stand at her side. He put a hand protectively around her back with a short nod.

Then he turned back to his aunt. “I believe my wife makes perfect sense, though I can understand you may not appreciate it. Life isn’t always pleasant. I have done my best to please you as well as the rest of our giant family, and yet it’s never enough.”

Switching her gaze from Genevieve to him, Elizabeth grumbled. “I hardly ask for anything, you know that. You know me.”

His wife scoffed before naming a number that made him jerk. They both looked at her. With a pointed look, Genevieve said, “That is how much you have asked for since the day Julian took on the title. I’ve checked it over and over. I have the numbers for the entire Ashcombe family and beyond.”

“That’s preposterous!” blustered his aunt.

With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Did I hear you call my wife a liar?”

“No, no. She is simply… incorrect.”

“Impossible.” Julian put on a smile. “This is her house. She knows the numbers. I have no reason to doubt her as she has managed well in my absence. Elizabeth, my sweet, you have been blessed with pin money that puts half the ton to shame. You’ll come into some more next month as always, and I think you can learn some patience.

Because I’m afraid I can’t help you. I meant everything I said in the letter.

And with that, you should know that you’re not welcome in these doors if that’s how you’re going to treat my wife. ”

His aunt had not been denied before. The shock that spread across her face was honest and clearly bewildering to her. Part of Julian pitied her, but it could not be helped.

“But… But you can’t do that. What about my horse?”

“You’re clever. You’ll sort something out.”

“I deserve better than this, Nephew!”

He stiffened. “It’s Lord Ashcombe, or Southwick. And this is Her Grace. Because it is she who deserves better. Our housekeeper will see you out. My dear?”

Equally silent, Genevieve gave a jerky nod. She led the way out of the room, and he was right on her heel to keep the women apart. Once they were out the door, he gave their housekeeper a nod before steering his wife further out of the way and around the corner.

“That was… I didn’t mean to be rude,” Genevieve blurted, her chest heaving. Away she walked though she talked to him. Whatever discussion they must have had was heated. He thought about asking, but decided against it. “But she was… How rude she was!”

He gave a nod. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“I didn’t think…” Then she turned around. There was a blush on her cheeks that looked quite lovely. She stepped forward and closed the distance between them. There was a thoughtfulness to her gaze as she studied him. “Was that all right?”

Julian had managed the situation well enough, so he thought, but now he didn’t know what to think. The lovely blush and those sweet lips. The fire in her eyes. She had wanted to help him, to protect him. He wondered how he was supposed to tell her that this was his responsibility.

“Genevieve…” But he swallowed his tongue.

All Julian could do was give her a short nod, and then took off down the hall. He left her behind. But the scent of her perfume followed behind him so he couldn’t forget her for even a second.