Page 27 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction (Dukes of Passion #3)
CHAPTER 27
“ Y our latest story is causing quite the sensation, Lady Asquith—or should I say, Duchess?” Mr. Pritchard, the printer Leo had introduced her to, handed Marina her payment with a respectful bow. “Lord Garfield ordered twenty copies for his club, claiming it’s the only thing keeping the members awake during political discussions.”
Marina tucked the money into her reticule. She was pleased by the news but determined to remain professional. “I’m glad it’s been well-received. The sea captain has proven more popular than I expected.”
“Readers appreciate the emotional depth,” Pritchard replied, his scholarly face brightening with genuine admiration. “Though I confess, many still prefer your earlier works featuring the mysterious duke.”
“The Duke has retired from literary society,” Marina said firmly, drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she prepared to leave. “The sea captain has taken his place.”
The small print shop off Fleet Street was a welcome change from Lupton’s cramped, gloomy place. Leo had introduced her to Mr. Pritchard two weeks earlier, and the difference was clear from the start. Here, her work was respected instead of sneered at, she was paid fairly instead of being exploited, and she was greeted warmly as an author rather than viewed as a scandalous curiosity.
“Your carriage is waiting, Your Grace,” Pritchard said, looking toward the window. “It’s getting late.”
Marina thanked him and stepped outside into the cool evening air. Becoming a duchess had changed her routine; no longer could she slip out alone at night to deliver her manuscripts. Now, Leo’s carriage waited discreetly around the corner, a footman always ready to escort her safely to the carriage.
As she walked, Marina suddenly felt uneasy, a prickling sensation that she was being watched. She glanced behind herself, looking into the shadows between buildings, but saw nothing unusual—just the usual evening crowd of Londoners, shopkeepers closing up, servants rushing home, and gentlemen strolling toward their clubs.
“Everything all right, Your Grace?” Thomas, the footman, asked with concern as she hesitated.
“Yes, Thomas. I thought I heard something, but it’s nothing.” Marina shook off the feeling, reminding herself it was probably just nerves.
Since becoming a duchess, she was aware of being noticed more often. People watched her now because she was the mysterious woman who had married the elusive Duke of Blackmere, not because they suspected her secret occupation.
Still, she scanned the streets as the carriage rolled toward Berkeley Square, unable to shake off completely the feeling of being observed.
It’s just your imagination , she reminded herself.
London was filled with curious people who naturally noticed a ducal carriage.
The unease stayed with her, lingering as she entered the townhouse to find Leo waiting for her in the entry hall.
“You’re later than expected,” he observed, his eyes quickly scanning her face. “Did something delay you?”
Marina handed her cloak to Henderson, trying to appear casual. “Mr. Pritchard was talkative this evening. It seems the sea captain has developed quite a following.”
Leo’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I’m not surprised. Your storytelling is… interesting.”
The heat in his gaze as it traveled over her reminded Marina of exactly how interesting he found her writing—particularly since the Hargrove dinner party last week when he had whispered things that still made her blush to remember.
His expression sobered as they moved toward the drawing room. “You seem unsettled. Did something happen?”
Marina hesitated, unwilling to voice her vague suspicions when she had nothing concrete to report.
“Nothing worth mentioning. It’s been a long day.”
Leo studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced. “Marina, if something troubled you?—”
“Nothing troubles me,” she said and forced a smile. “I am simply tired.”
“I see.” Leo’s tone made it clear he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he offered his arm. “The night is pleasant, and the gardens are lovely in the moonlight. Perhaps some fresh air would be restorative?”
The suggestion surprised her. While their physical relationship had blossomed since that night last week, they rarely spent time together without some practical purpose or social obligation.
A casual stroll through the gardens seemed unexpectedly… romantic.
“That sounds lovely,” she heard herself say, curiosity overcoming her lingering unease.
The townhouse gardens were small by country standards but exquisitely maintained with gravel paths winding between carefully tended flower beds and ornamental shrubs. In the moonlight, the scene took on an ethereal quality, the white roses glowing like pale ghosts against the darker foliage.
They walked in companionable silence for several minutes, Marina gradually relaxing as the scent of night-blooming flowers surrounded them. The high walls of the garden created a sense of privacy, a world apart from the bustling city just beyond.
“You would tell me if you were in any difficulty?” Leo asked suddenly, his voice quiet in the night air. “If something or someone were troubling you?”
Marina glanced up at him, surprised by the protective note in his voice. “Of course. But truly, there is nothing?—”
“You looked over your shoulder when you approached the carriage,” Leo interrupted, his expression serious. “Thomas noticed your concern.”
Heat rose to Marina’s cheeks. She hadn’t realized the footman had observed her moment of paranoia.
“It was nothing. A strange feeling, that’s all.”
Leo’s hand covered hers where it rested on his arm. His touch was warm and reassuring.
“Even strange feelings can have meaning. I do not wish to see you harmed, Marina.”
The simple declaration touched her more deeply than his most passionate endearments.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “But I can look after myself. I have been doing so for some time.”
“I do not doubt your capability,” Leo replied. “But you are no longer alone. As your husband, your safety concerns me.”
Marina felt a flicker of irritation despite the warmth his words provoked.
“You cannot decide to act the devoted husband only when it pleases you, Leo. That is not how marriage works.”
He paused, turning to face her fully. “You think I can choose this? That I have control where you are concerned?” His voice held a raw edge she had never heard before. “Perhaps you are better at maintaining control than I am, but I can see you’re as desperate as I am whenever we’re close.”
The accusation stung precisely because it contained too much truth. Since their night together, Marina had found herself increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of Leo—not just his touch but his smile, his rare moments of vulnerability, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
“This is about physical desire,” she countered, deflecting from the uncomfortable truth. “Nothing more. Perhaps you simply want more from me than I am prepared to give.”
Leo stepped closer, his eyes intent on hers. “And what do you think I want, Marina?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, suddenly uncertain. “What do you want?”
For a long moment, Leo merely looked at her, something complicated and unfamiliar moving in his eyes. Then he released a slow breath.
“More than I expected to,” he said quietly. “More than I have wanted from anyone in a very long time.”
The simple honesty in his words left Marina without a ready response. Before she could formulate one, Leo reached out to brush a loose curl from her cheek, his touch achingly gentle.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Marina,” he whispered. “Despite our differences, I would never intentionally hurt you.”
Marina wanted to believe him. More than that, she wanted to lean into his touch, to accept the comfort and protection he offered. But years of self-reliance held her back, whispering that dependence on a man, any man, was the quickest path to heartbreak.
“I should go to bed,” she said finally, stepping away from his touch. “It’s growing late.”
Leo nodded, his expression shuttering slightly. “Of course. Shall I walk you inside?”
“No, I think I shall remain here a while longer.” Marina needed space to think, to process the confusion of emotions his words had stirred. “The air is refreshing after being in the city.”
“As you wish.” Leo bowed formally then hesitated. “And, about what you felt earlier… trust your instincts. If something seems wrong, it probably is.”
With that parting advice, he turned and walked back toward the house, leaving Marina alone with the moonlight and her troubled thoughts.
Leo paused in the shadows of the terrace and watched Marina’s solitary figure among the moonlit roses. The protective instinct that had surged through him when Thomas mentioned her unusual behavior hadn’t diminished, despite her dismissal of his concerns.
Something had unsettled her tonight. Something she wasn’t willing to share with him. The realization stung more than he cared to admit.
For all their physical intimacy, for all the progress he had made in breaking down her defenses, Marina still didn’t trust him with her fears.
As he watched her delicate fingers trace the petals of a white rose, her face contemplative in the moonlight, Leo felt something shift inside him—a feeling that went beyond desire or possessiveness.
It was softer, deeper, more vulnerable than anything he had allowed himself to feel in years.
The sensation frightened him. This was precisely what he had spent a decade avoiding—emotional entanglement, the dangerous territory where control slipped away and pain inevitably followed.
Marina was right. He wanted more from her than he had any right to expect, more than their arrangement had ever intended.
Abruptly, Leo stepped back from the terrace doorway.
“Don’t stay out too long. The night air grows chilly,” he called out.
Without waiting for her response, he retreated into the house, missing the flash of disappointment that crossed Marina’s face at his sudden withdrawal.
It was better this way, he told himself. Better to maintain the boundaries they had established than to risk the fragile equilibrium they had achieved.
Yet as he strode toward his study, Leo couldn’t silence the voice that whispered he was a coward—not for facing down William’s betrayal or society’s condemnation but for running from the one thing he might truly want. A genuine connection with the woman who had become his wife.