Page 45 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

G roaning, Genevieve pulled herself up from the desk as she finally finished the last of her correspondence.

I never thought I would be so busy nor so popular as a duchess. But perhaps that was inevitable. That’s what everyone told me would happen. And here I am, three years a duchess who needs three days a week dedicated to her correspondence.

She made a face at the pile of letters to send. Today, there were four, and she had been holding them off for some time since they were committed exchanges between women of science and learning whom she’d met at various soirees and lectures in London within the past couple of months.

Everyone remained in the city now with the Season in full swing. Spring was right around the corner and the last of the snow had melted at Southwick only days ago.

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Waverly strode across the room with bright eyes, her version of a welcoming smile. “Is there anything I can fetch you?”

Genevieve shook her head. “I’ve finished my tea. The peppermint was just what I needed, Mrs. Waverly, thank you.”

“Shall I leave the biscuits for you?”

The household was getting rather nosy for Genevieve’s liking, truth be told. Since she had arrived nearly six weeks ago, there was always a servant coming or going. Everyone was finding excuses to come check on her, to pretend they weren’t staring or full of inquiries.

Thank goodness they can control themselves, because I’m tiring of such amusements.

“Thank you, but no. I’m sure I’ll eat something at supper this evening instead,” Genevieve felt the need to add when her housekeeper hesitated. For a moment, she wondered if the woman would consider force feeding her. “You can enjoy the biscuits yourself if you like.”

“Perhaps I shall keep them in the kitchens should you change your mind later,” Mrs. Waverly decided instead. She picked up the tray. “Will that be all?”

Nodding, Genevieve responded, “That is all. I think I’ll stay here reading a while.” The housekeeper offered a polite curtsy. “I will let you know if anything requires your assistance. Your Grace.”

And then she did it. Right before Mrs. Waverly took her leave, her small sharp eyes flitted a quick look right at Genevieve’s midsection.

I suppose it cannot be helped. Thank the lord Julian helped me see reason. I would not have survived London like this now. Every day I let out another dress. Every day I grow a little bigger. A little clumsier. And more people cannot help but stare. There is no hiding this growth, is there?

A dry chuckle escaped Genevieve. How was it she had wished for a quiet life to herself only to wind up a duchess and even whilst in confinement, she was busy carrying on correspondence with brilliant minds.

It had turned out there was much to do in London beyond balls and tea shops, Genevieve had learned.

Julian had spent nearly an entire season wooing her and showing her all that she had never known.

Attending lectures and exploring smaller museums and soirees had opened a world for Genevieve away from the judging and chaos of the ton.

She adored all of that, just about as much as she adored Southwick.

They had come the previous summer, of course. No one liked to stay in London in the hot months. That trip had further healed the wounds she and her husband both carried for one reason or another. Endless nights had passed with the two of them curled up in the library together, talking and dreaming.

And now, she was back, prepared to spend several months in the countryside to eventually bear what might be the next duke.

She hummed as she left her desk behind. Moving away from the corner, she collected a favorite book of poems and wandered against the long wall to find the windows open to the summer breeze.

It tugged at her hair, and she smiled. Leaning against a bookcase, she clung to her book with one hand and rested her other on the belly.

Only two months to go before she would finally carry her little boy or little girl in her arms. It was difficult being patient.

“No shoes, Duchess?”

Genevieve stopped humming and smiled at the sound of his voice. The baby within her shifted like they too knew who was there. She turned to find her husband there at the entrance of the library.

Standing against the open doorframe, Julian crossed his arms as a smile tugged at his mouth. He had been out in the village this morning, departing before she could convince him to let her come along. Perhaps later she’d scold him for that, but she couldn’t do that now.

Especially not when he looked the way he did.

Julian appeared every bit the rake she once despised.

His hair was perfectly tousled in that beautiful shade of gold.

How much he must have run his hands through it, she couldn’t begin to guess.

She often did that herself. He had unbuttoned his waistcoat and unwound his cravat.

There was a familiar mischief in his eyes that too easily pulled a short laugh from her.

“Shoes,” she proclaimed, “are for people with things to prove.”

“Oh?” Julian strode across the room swiftly.

His long legs led directly to her. She felt her breath catch as he neared, the distance between them closing until he at last arrived.

He offered her a tender kiss before twisting them around so she could gaze out the window again with him against her back. “So you have nothing to prove, hm?”

Already melting into him, Genevieve sighed.

It didn’t help that his hand drifted over her growing belly with such tenderness and care that she wanted to weep. Often in the mornings she woke to him doing just that, whispering sweet dreams to their unborn babe. Sometimes this woke her, and she could never last being upset for long.

“No, I have nothing to prove. I already know I did everything right,” she countered before leaning her head back against his collarbone.

The countryside was laid out before them in this view.

By now, Genevieve felt fairly confident she had explored nearly every inch of Southwick.

And she never tired of the beauty. Already her walks grew shorter with her expanding waistline, but Julian was always there at her side to go as slowly as necessary and pointing out the prettiest little things.

Small flowers growing, birds’ nests, and butterflies appeared to him constantly.

What a home this will make for our little one.

She remembered the bewildering confusion and stress when the sickness came upon her. While Julian had been near frantic, their London housekeeper had asked a few pointed questions that quickly began to make sense to Genevieve.

Following that, it had been a wild time as she and Julian wondered what sort of parents they would be. How they would manage it. How they would survive. And where they would raise the child.

“What if they don’t like Southwick?” Julian had been concerned about once.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Genevieve had countered.

“Everyone loves the countryside. It’s heaven on earth, Julian.

Don’t let the past control what we do, please.

Being out there will allow for more quiet and more peace.

We can bring every doctor out to Southwick if that’s what concerns you, but I want this to be a new opportunity.

We can do for our children what should have been for us. ”

That conversation had helped her and Julian through much in the last six months while they began to make their plans.

It was the trust they had built between them that constantly surprised her.

She and Julian regularly challenged one another, and stayed at each other’s side whenever they had hard moments.

How it had come to pass, for them to feel this close, Genevieve didn’t know.

She hadn’t known it was even possible. She only cared that Julian held her now like he would never let go.

Remembering their conversation, she smiled to herself before craning her neck up. “I made the right choice. I’m so glad of that. And so did you.”

When he chuckled, she could feel it in his chest. “Thank the lord you did, Genevieve, darling. I don’t know where I would be if not with you in this very moment.”

Craning her neck back so she could gaze up at him in wonder that he was hers, Genevieve smiled. “You were always bound to be right here.”

“I certainly hope so.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. The gesture was so tender that she leaned further into him. His grasp on her tightened as she let out a small sigh. “I promised I would never leave you. Even if you do go about the library barefoot and shout at me during charades.”

A sudden laugh escaped Genevieve. “That was one time!”

“It was very stressful.”

“Oh, you poor dear. How will you ever recover?” she asked with a dramatic pout.

Sunlight rained down on him, creating a golden halo around his temple on top of his already perfect hair. She noted the blue eyes that never ceased to capture her breath. How she prayed their child would have his eyes. And his charm. And his kindness.

“I think I might survive another day if you just so happen to kiss me,” Julian decided with a deliberate pause in the middle.

“A kiss? Where?”

He loosened his grasp on her with one hand to tap his cheek. Holding back a giggle, she obeyed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “There. Do you feel better now?”

“One more,” Julian decided and tapped his nose.

So she leaned in, smiling. When he tilted his chin up just in time to catch her lips with his, however, Genevieve wasn’t surprised.

She giggled through the kiss. One of his hands remained over her belly while the other cupped her cheek, keeping her close and warm.

The swelling of her belly was less than ideal in creating this divide, she knew, but she knew it wouldn’t be forever.

Julian inhaled sharply, pausing to press their foreheads together. His thumb brushed against her high cheekbone. “Darling, you’re crying.”

“I know. I’m a blubbering, weak mess now. But I…” she swallowed again to keep her voice even. “I’m so very happy, Julian.”

She missed his warmth when he leaned back to gaze at her. But his eyes promised her all the comfort she could ever need. “Good, because you deserve it.”

“We deserve it,” she proposed.

“I am glad you are happy. I’ve never known joy like this in all my life,” he murmured. “And I cannot imagine ever being unhappy again. This is the life I want, Genevieve. You and our beautiful baby. There will be so much joy, I promise.”

She nodded, cradling his hand on her cheek. “I know. I know. I feel it, Julian. We can have all the joy in the world. You and me.”

“And our baby,” he added.

Genevieve chuckled as he wiped away the last of her tears. Julian always did that. He had wooed her well that second year of their marriage, showing how his charm was tied to a good heart that might still make mistakes but was always growing.

It’s hard to believe sometimes how miserable we were once. How alone we had been. I pray everyone can feel this joy someday, to be so loved.

“I love you,” Julian whispered.

She wanted to scold him because those words so often made her tear up all over again. Instead, she leaned in for a kiss and responded, “And I love you.”

All would be well. Genevieve could feel it while held by her husband on a golden afternoon. Tomorrow would be glorious, and she could hardly wait for what might happen next for them. She had a feeling it would be wonderful.