Page 15 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction (Dukes of Passion #3)

CHAPTER 15

“ Y our bath is ready, Your Grace,” Betty announced as she entered the bedchamber with an armful of fresh towels. “And I’ve laid out the blue silk for dinner.”

“Thank you, Betty,” she replied. “Though I still think the blue might be too formal for a simple dinner at home.”

Betty’s eyes widened a little. Calling this place “home” still felt strange—the grand house was very different from the cozy townhouse on Mount Street they’d left behind that morning.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but it’s your first dinner as a duchess.” Betty set the towels down beside the steaming bath two maids had already prepared in the dressing room. “And from what I’ve seen, His Grace is rather particular about appearances.”

Marina suppressed a smile at her maid’s assessment. Leo was indeed fastidious in his dress, his aristocratic bearing evident in every precisely arranged detail of his attire.

“Very well, the blue it is.”

As Betty helped her out of her gown, Marina took in the luxurious surroundings. Her new rooms were enormous, filled with comforts she’d never even imagined—thick carpets, polished mahogany furniture, and linens so soft they felt like silk against her skin.

The bath was even better, deep enough to sink into completely with warm water scented lightly by lavender oil. Marina eased herself into it gratefully, feeling the tension slowly drain from her muscles.

“Feels a bit like a fairy tale, doesn’t it?” Betty said cheerfully, setting Marina’s brush and comb neatly on the dressing table. “You becoming a duchess, married to a duke—and a handsome one, too. The staff says he’s strict but fair, and generous, too.”

“Is that so?” Marina murmured.

She hardly knew the man she’d married. So far, they’d only argued—mostly about her writing and the desperate situation that had forced them into marriage.

“Oh yes, My Lady—I mean, Your Grace,” Betty corrected herself, blushing slightly. “Mrs. Phillips, the housekeeper, says His Grace remembers all the servants’ birthdays, gives them little gifts, and never cuts wages even when he’s traveling.”

Marina absorbed this unexpected insight into Leo’s character. It aligned with his treatment of her so far—practical but not ungenerous. “He seems… considerate.”

“And the way he looks at you!” Betty exclaimed, her cheeks pink with excitement. “If you don’t mind me saying, Your Grace, I think you’ve quite captured his interest.”

Marina nearly submerged herself completely at that comment. The way Leo looked at her… she had noticed it of course. That intensity in his hazel eyes when he studied her, as if he were trying to read her innermost thoughts. But she’d attributed it to suspicion or calculation, not…interest.

“I think you’re romanticizing matters, Betty,” she said, reaching for the soap. “The Duke and I barely know each other.”

“Sometimes that’s when the strongest attachments form,” Betty replied sagely. “My mother always said her cousin fell head over heels for her husband the first moment she laid eyes on him, and they were married within the month.”

Marina allowed Betty to continue her cheerful speculations as she finished her bath. The girl was clearly delighted by their change in fortune, and Marina didn’t have the heart to explain that her marriage was one of convenience, not affection.

Once Marina was dry, Betty helped her into the blue silk gown. It was one of her nicest dresses though she knew Leo had already arranged for new ones to be made. Her sapphire and diamond wedding ring sparkled as she reached up to fix a loose pin in her hair.

“You look lovely, Your Grace,” Betty said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. “His Grace won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Marina smiled at Betty’s enthusiasm. “Thank you, Betty—for everything. I don’t know how I would’ve managed today without you.”

Betty gave her a warm smile. “It’s the least I can do, considering all you’ve done for me.”

As seven o’clock approached, Marina took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for dinner.

Her first private meal with Leo as his wife. She reminded herself firmly that this marriage was purely practical. Leo had saved her from financial ruin, and she’d agreed to stop writing about him and fulfill her role as his duchess.

But her heartbeat quickened as she descended the staircase, betraying her nerves.

At the foot of the stairs, Henderson waited politely. “This way, Your Grace,” he said, guiding her toward a smaller, more intimate dining room.

Marina paused in the doorway, momentarily speechless. Candlelight bathed the room in a soft glow. The table was elegantly set for two, fresh flowers arranged on both the table and mantelpiece, filling the room with a sweet fragrance. It felt undeniably romantic.

Leo stood when she entered, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in her appearance. “Duchess,” he greeted her, pulling out her chair. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Marina sat down, acutely aware of his closeness and the gentle brush of his fingers against her shoulder. She gestured to the flowers and candles. “This is all rather… elaborate.”

Leo returned to his seat, his face unreadable. “Is it? I simply asked the staff to arrange dinner for my wife.”

Marina studied him, trying to guess his intentions as two footmen entered with the first course—a delicate soup scented with sherry. They quickly withdrew, leaving the couple alone.

“The food is wonderful,” Marina said after tasting the soup. “Your cook is very talented.”

“I’ll tell her you said so,” Leo replied. “But I’m sure she’d love to speak with you directly about menus. She’s missed having guidance.”

Marina nodded, uncertain how to navigate this polite, careful conversation. After a moment, she decided to be blunt.

“Why all this?” she asked softly, indicating the candles and flowers again. “It feels more than necessary for a simple dinner.”

Leo paused, looking genuinely puzzled. “You’re my wife. Isn’t it normal to want your first meal here to be special?”

Marina hesitated, playing nervously with her napkin. “I don’t understand your intentions. Ours is meant to be a practical arrangement. Romantic gestures aren’t needed.”

Leo’s expression flickered with annoyance. “Why is it so hard to believe I might want to spoil my wife, even if it is a practical arrangement?”

Marina opened her mouth to reply, intending something sharp, but instead, the truth slipped out. “Because, in my experience, husbands don’t spoil their wives. My previous husband treated me like I didn’t matter.”

Her admission hung awkwardly between them. Leo’s face softened, annoyance replaced by sympathy.

“Not every husband is like Lord Asquith,” he said quietly. “Think of the Clarkshires—Harold clearly adores his wife.”

Marina dropped her eyes to the table, unable to look at him. “They’re an exception.”

For a moment, they were silent, the only sounds the gentle clink of silverware. Then Leo shifted, trying to ease the tension.

“So,” he said lightly, “what will your next story be about?”

Marina nearly choked on her wine. Setting down the glass, she stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Leo’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your next story. I’m curious about what you’ll write now that I’m no longer your subject.”

“That’s hardly an appropriate dinner topic,” Marina replied stiffly.

“Why not? Writing is your profession.” Leo’s smile faded as Marina’s expression tightened. “You’re being defensive again. You treat me as if I’m an enemy when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

The accusation stung, especially because Marina recognized its truth. Since his arrival at her doorstep with his marriage proposal, Leo had offered nothing but help, yet she continued to treat him with suspicion and guardedness.

“You’re right,” she admitted, releasing a deep breath. “I apologize. Since meeting with Giles, I’ve been constantly on edge, expecting the worst from everyone.” She met his gaze directly. “You have helped me immensely, and I am truly grateful for it.”

The genuine note in her voice seemed to surprise him. His expression softened, and something that might have been pleasure flickered in his eyes.

“Thank you for saying so.”

A moment of understanding passed between them—the first genuine connection since their hasty marriage. Then Leo’s smile returned, playful once more.

“So, about that next story…”

Marina laughed at his persistence. “I would rather not discuss my writing process with you, if you don’t mind.”

“I can accept that,” Leo replied though his expression remained curious. “But I don’t quite understand it since I’ve been your inspiration for quite some time.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Perhaps you’d like to gather more inspiration directly from the source?”

Heat rushed to Marina’s cheeks. “I would not,” she insisted though her mind traitorously recalled their kiss in the Ellinsworths’ library—the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands.

“Very well.” Leo’s smile suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Just remember—no more writing about me. That was our agreement.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Marina assured him.

Leo nodded then changed the subject completely. “Tell me about your childhood. Were you raised in London?”

Marina blinked at the unexpected question. “No, in Derbyshire. My father had a small estate there.”

“Brothers? Sisters?”

“None. I was an only child.” Marina tilted her head, studying him. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re my wife now,” Leo replied simply. “We should get to know one another, don’t you think?”

The straightforward answer caught Marina off guard. It made sense, of course. Still, Marina hadn’t expected Leo to show genuine interest in her beyond their agreement. “I suppose you’re right,” she said.

As dinner continued, Leo kept asking questions about her past—her interests, her schooling, places she loved in London.

“Tell me about your childhood home,” he said, refilling her glass. “Do you miss the countryside?”

“Sometimes,” Marina admitted. “Especially in spring when the meadows fill with wildflowers. My father’s estate had a small stream that wound through a copse of oak trees. I used to escape there with books when my governess thought I was practicing needlework.”

Leo’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “A rebellious streak, even then?”

“Hardly rebellion,” Marina countered. “Strategic time management. Why waste hours on terrible embroidery when I could read Herodotus?”

“Herodotus?” Leo’s eyebrows rose. “Most young ladies prefer more romantic stories.”

“Oh, I read those too,” Marina confessed with a smile. “But I hid them inside more respectable novels. My father would have been scandalized to find me reading some of the things I did.”

“A skill that no doubt prepared you well for your current literary endeavors.” Leo’s voice dropped to a more intimate tone. “Hiding scandalous content behind a respectable facade.”

Marina felt heat rise to her cheeks at his teasing. “And what mischief did you engage in as a boy? I can’t imagine the future Duke of Blackmere was always well-behaved.”

Leo laughed, a genuine sound that transformed his usually serious features. “Far from it. William and I once replaced the bishop’s communion wine with blackberry cordial. The poor man’s face nearly turned purple with the shock of it.”

“You didn’t!” Marina gasped, delighted by the image.

“We most certainly did. Though we paid dearly for it—copying biblical passages for a month under our tutor’s watchful eye.” His expression softened with the memory. “William always had the more inventive ideas though I was typically blamed as the elder brother who should have known better.”

“And did you? Know better, that is?” Marina asked, enjoying this glimpse of the mischievous boy behind the controlled duke.

“Rarely,” Leo admitted, his gaze warming as it held hers. “Though I’ve learned to be more selective about my misbehavior since then.”

The way his voice caressed the word “misbehavior” sent a tremor through Marina that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

“What shape does this selective bad behavior take, Your Grace?” Marina asked, regretting her forwardness before she’d finished speaking.

Leo leaned forward, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “I could show rather than describe if you’re truly curious.”

Marina felt her breath catch at the heat in his gaze. Remembering herself, she straightened in her chair and reached for her water glass. “I believe I’ll leave that to my imagination for now.”

“A pity,” Leo replied, not looking particularly discouraged by her retreat. “While your imagination is impressive, some things are best learned through experience.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Marina said.

“Only with you,” he countered, his expression turning more serious.

To her surprise, Marina relaxed into the conversation despite his occasionally suggestive remarks. Leo listened carefully when she spoke, asked insightful follow-up questions, and even shared stories of his travels that revealed a thoughtful observer rather than merely a wealthy nobleman on a grand tour.

Feeling brave from the easy flow between them, Marina asked gently, “What about your family? You mentioned a brother, William?”

Leo’s warmth disappeared instantly. His jaw tightened, and his hand froze around his wineglass. “William. Yes.”

The name lingered heavily between them, revealing a pain far deeper than simple estrangement.

“I’m sorry,” Marina said quietly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Leo nodded stiffly. The comfortable mood they’d built quickly faded into awkward silence.

By the time dessert arrived—a delicate lemon tart—Marina had decided it was best to leave before she made things even more uncomfortable.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said, folding her napkin neatly. “It was lovely, but it’s been a long day. I think I should rest.”

“Of course.” Leo stood quickly, polite as ever, despite the lingering awkwardness.

Marina rose, relieved he didn’t continue their earlier conversation. They walked quietly from the dining room through the grand hall, their footsteps echoing against the marble floors.

At the stairs, Marina turned to say goodnight. Before she could speak, Leo gently caught her hand, pulling her softly toward him.

“Marina,” he said quietly, looking directly into her eyes. “I meant what I said. Anything you need—anything at all—just ask. You shouldn’t hesitate to tell me your wishes.”

For a second, the space between them felt charged, and Marina couldn’t pull her eyes from his.

She found herself half-expecting—and even, to her own surprise, half-hoping—that he would kiss her.

The realization snapped her back to her senses. Of course, he knew exactly what to say—he was famous for his charm after all. This wasn’t about her; it was about the challenge she presented.

She withdrew her hand, stepping away. “Thank you, Your Grace, for your generosity,” she said, deliberately polite. “But I don’t need anything else tonight.”

Leo’s expression shifted, surprise briefly crossing his face before he nodded in acceptance. “As you wish. Goodnight, Marina.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered, quickly turning to climb the stairs before he could notice her flushed cheeks.

In the safety of her own room, Marina scolded herself for being so easily swayed. Their marriage was purely practical. Leo’s charm was nothing personal—just habit.

Yet, as she got ready for bed, his words replayed softly in her mind.

Anything at all. Tell me your wishes.

She blew out the candle, and the room fell into comforting darkness.

Alone, she could finally admit the truth that just for a fleeting moment, she’d wanted nothing more than him.