Page 28 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction (Dukes of Passion #3)

CHAPTER 28

“ T he new Duchess of Blackmere continues to surprise society,” Leo overheard Lady Jersey remark to her companion as he entered the Rutherford ballroom. “Who would have imagined the quiet widow would transform so dramatically? That gown is positively daring.”

Leo followed her gaze across the crowded room. His steps faltered when he spotted Marina.

For the past two weeks, they had maintained a careful distance—polite at meals, cordial in public, but with none of the intimacy they had briefly shared. When he had abruptly left the garden that night, it had created a silent barrier, and neither of them had attempted to overcome it.

But tonight… Leo’s breath caught as he studied his wife.

Marina wore a gown of deep crimson silk cut lower across the bodice than anything she had worn before. The rich color against her fair skin drew every eye in the room. The fitted waist and flowing skirts emphasized her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry. Her hair was arranged in an elegant knot, adorned with ruby pins that caught the light with every slight movement of her head.

She was stunning, and from the admiring glances she was receiving, he wasn’t the only man who thought so.

“Your duchess appears determined to set tongues wagging tonight,” Noah remarked, appearing at Leo’s elbow with two glasses of champagne. “That shade of red is practically scandalous for a respectable matron.”

Leo accepted the glass, but his eyes never left Marina as she conversed with Seraphina and Alice across the room.

“Marina has never been one to follow convention.”

“Clearly,” Noah agreed, his tone amused. “Though I suspect her choice of gown has a specific target in mind.”

Leo tore his gaze away to glance at his friend. “What are you implying?”

“Only that I have noticed a certain coolness between you these past weeks.” Noah sipped his champagne. “Perhaps the Duchess has decided to remind you of what you’ve been neglecting.”

Leo didn’t have time to reply; Dorian arrived, his face etched with worry.

“Thank God you’re both here early. Alice has been fretting all day about the seating arrangement for tomorrow’s dinner party. Apparently, the Austrian ambassador’s wife cannot be seated near Lady Rothmore because of some incident involving a Pomeranian and a pot of jam.”

“The challenges of diplomatic relations,” Noah replied with mock solemnity. “How fortunate that I remain blissfully unmarried and free from such concerns.”

“You will attend, of course?” Dorian asked Leo. “Alice is really hoping everyone from our circle of friends will be there.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Leo assured him as his gaze drifted back to Marina.

Her laugh carried across the room, musical and unrestrained in a way he rarely heard. The sound created a tightness in his chest.

“Excellent.” Dorian followed Leo’s line of sight, his expression turning speculative. “Your wife looks striking tonight.”

“Marina has excellent taste,” Leo replied neutrally though he couldn’t suppress a spark of pride at the admiration his wife was receiving.

“Indeed, she does.” Dorian gave him a pointed look. “In literature, fashion, and apparently in husbands, despite your recent behavior.”

Leo’s eyebrows rose. “My behavior?”

“Alice says Marina seems quieter lately at their gatherings. Seraphina noticed it too.” Dorian gave Leo a casual look. “They wondered if married life isn’t quite what she expected.”

“Marriage takes some getting used to,” Leo said. “For both sides.”

“True enough,” Dorian said. “But in my experience, talking things out usually helps.”

Leo was about to respond when the orchestra began playing a waltz. Across the room, Marina turned and looked directly at him for the first time that night. Something in her gaze, a challenge mixed with invitation, made Leo’s heart beat faster.

Without bothering to excuse himself, Leo moved through the crowd toward her. Society expected married couples to share at least one dance at events, no matter their private relationship. Tonight, Leo found himself thankful for that rule.

“Duchess,” he greeted her as he reached her, “may I have this dance?”

Marina studied him for a moment before nodding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

As they stepped onto the dance floor, Leo felt eyes watching them. London society loved any hint of gossip, especially when it involved the intriguing Duke and Duchess of Blackmere.

“You look stunning tonight,” Leo murmured, placing his hand at her waist. “That color suits you perfectly.”

“Thank you,” Marina replied, neutral and polite. “Madame Beaumont suggested it was time to try something new.”

“She chose well,” Leo said, guiding her into the dance and enjoying the slight pressure of her hand on his shoulder. “Though I am guessing the final decision was yours.”

Marina smiled faintly. “I might have nudged her a bit.”

“It worked. Lord Hatton could hardly hide his surprise,” Leo said lightly, unable to hide a hint of possessiveness. “You have made quite an impression.”

“Isn’t that what a duchess should do? Lead rather than follow?” A familiar spark lit Marina’s eyes again and reminded Leo of the woman who had fascinated him from the start.

“That is certainly part of it,” Leo agreed, his gaze drifting to her bare shoulders. “Among other duties of course.”

Marina blushed slightly. “You are being bold tonight.”

“I am simply appreciating my wife,” Leo said softly, pulling her just a bit closer. “Isn’t that allowed?”

Her expression grew uncertain. “I wasn’t sure you still felt that way.”

The honesty of her words caught Leo off guard. Had his attempt at restraint made her question how much he wanted her?

“Marina—” Leo began, but the music ended before he could say more.

They separated and exchanged the usual polite gestures with the other dancers.

As Leo led Marina away, he struggled to find the right words to close the distance between them.

But before he could speak, others quickly surrounded them, eager to chat with the Duke and Duchess. The chance for a private moment was lost.

For the rest of the evening, Leo watched Marina from a distance as she moved through the ballroom with newfound confidence.

The crimson gown drew admiring glances from both men and women, but it was Marina’s quiet dignity that commanded respect. Whatever others might whisper about her past or the circumstances of their marriage, no one could deny that she wore her new title with grace.

Pride mingled with a more complicated emotion as Leo observed Marina across the terrace. She leaned toward Seraphina, her eyes bright with interest as they discussed charitable initiatives.

“The children’s hospital lacks funds for expansion,” Seraphina said. “The board refuses to proceed without guaranteed support.”

“Perhaps a benefit concert would be the answer,” Marina suggested, her hands graceful as she gestured. “My cousin plays the violin with remarkable skill, and several musicians of my acquaintance would perform for such a cause.”

Seraphina’s face brightened. “What an excellent notion. We might host it at Irondale House where the music room provides superior acoustics.”

Leo watched as the elderly Countess of Harrington joined their circle. Marina shifted to make room beside her. When the Countess began describing her work with war widows, Marina listened with such attention that the old woman seemed to glow under her regard.

Across the way, Noah approached the ladies with his customary swagger. “Ladies, your expressions bespeak grave matters. Surely this fine afternoon merits pleasanter topics than hospitals and widows.”

“Like your encounter with Lady Tomlinson at the Rutherfords’ ball?” Marina countered with a delicate arch of her eyebrow. “I understand she emptied her champagne glass over your head.”

Noah pressed a hand to his chest in feigned injury while Seraphina laughed behind her fan. “A mere misunderstanding, I assure you. The glass was but half full.”

“Next time you might wish to fix your gaze upon a lady’s eyes when offering compliments,” Marina replied, her lips curving into a smile.

As Noah attempted his defense, Leo marveled at the transformation. She was no longer the reserved widow he had married for convenience nor merely the passionate woman who had yielded to his touch. This was Marina in full flower—intelligent, compassionate, and confident in her place within society.

And he had been keeping her at arm’s length.

The realization left Leo unsettled for the rest of the evening and throughout the following day.

By the time they departed for Alice and Dorian’s dinner party that evening, his determination to repair the distance between them had solidified into resolution.

Marina had chosen another new gown for the occasion—a deep emerald silk that complemented her coloring beautifully without the deliberate provocation of the previous night’s crimson. As they entered the Irondale townhouse, Leo placed his hand at the small of her back, a gesture both possessive and supportive.

“You look lovely,” he murmured close to her ear. “Green suits you almost as well as red.”

Marina glanced up at him, surprise and a hint of wariness in her eyes. “Thank you.”

Before he could say more, they were greeted by their hosts.

“Marina, that gown is exquisite,” Alice exclaimed, embracing her warmly. “You must tell me where you found that shade of green. I have been searching for something similar for ages.”

As the women fell into conversation about fashion, Dorian drew Leo aside. “Ambassador Kessler has been asking about your shipping ventures. Something about potential investments in the Baltic region.”

The next hour passed in a blur of greetings and pre-dinner conversations.

Leo found himself constantly aware of Marina’s location in the room even as he discussed business with Dorian’s political connections or exchanged pleasantries with their mutual friends.

From her animated expression and the genuine laughter she shared with Alice and Seraphina, it was clear she had found genuine friendship within their circle. This development pleased him more than he had expected.

When dinner was announced, Leo offered Marina his arm and guided her into the formal dining room where place cards showed their assigned seats.

To his irritation, he discovered that while Marina was seated to Dorian’s right, as befitted her rank, he had been placed at the opposite end of the table near Alice.

Worse still, directly across from Marina sat Viscount Durching, the man whose literary conversation had so annoyed Leo at the Pembroke ball.

Throughout the first course, Leo found his attention continually drawn to Marina and Durching’s animated discussion. Even from his distant position, he could see the Viscount leaning forward with an expression of exaggerated interest as Marina spoke.

“The ambassador was quite impressed by your knowledge of Baltic shipping routes,” Alice remarked, drawing Leo’s attention back to his immediate companions. “He mentioned his government might be interested in establishing a regular trade agreement.”

“I will have my secretary send him the relevant figures,” Leo replied automatically, his gaze drifting back to Marina, who was laughing at something Durching had said.

Alice followed his gaze. “Viscount Durching fancies himself a great literary patron. I believe he’s discussing the new exhibit of illuminated manuscripts at the British Museum.”

“Is he?” Leo’s tone was sharper than he intended. “How fascinating.”

“Marina seems to find it so,” Alice observed innocently. “Although perhaps not as fascinating as you find their conversation.”

Leo met her amused gaze with a rueful smile. “Am I being that obvious?”

“Only to those who know you well,” Alice assured him. “Your fixation on Viscount Durching’s conversation with your wife suggests a rather more personal interest than simple concern for her entertainment.”

Leo had no response to this uncomfortably accurate observation. As the second course was served, he found himself increasingly irritated by Durching’s attentive manner and Marina’s apparent enjoyment of his company.

The Viscount was pleasant enough, he supposed. Reasonably handsome, well-spoken with the sort of bland charm that seemed designed to appeal to ladies of their social class.

But did he have to lean so close when Marina spoke? Did his hand need to gesticulate so expressively, occasionally brushing near Marina’s wineglass? Marina didn’t have to smile so warmly at his rather commonplace comments on art and literature, did she?

By the time the main course arrived, Leo had endured enough. Taking advantage of a lull in conversation as new dishes were served, he addressed a comment across the table.

“I understand you have developed an interest in early manuscripts, Durching,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the general conversation. “A rather recent enthusiasm, is it not?”

Durching looked momentarily startled at being directly addressed by the Duke. “Indeed, Your Grace, but I’ve always appreciated fine literature.”

“Of course,” Leo replied smoothly. “And what do you make of the Morgan collection? I found their Byzantine examples illuminating regarding the evolution of religious iconography during the early medieval period.”

It was a deliberate challenge. Leo had studied such manuscripts during his travels in Europe, and he doubted Durching’s knowledge extended beyond whatever fashionable opinions were currently circulating in London’s literary salons.

The Viscount hesitated which confirmed Leo’s suspicions. “I haven’t had the chance to examine those specific examples though I am sure they are fascinating.”

“Quite fascinating,” Leo agreed, unable to resist pressing his advantage. “Using gold leaf techniques combined with western European stylistic influences creates a unique artistic dialogue that reflects the political complexities of the period.”

Marina’s gaze met his across the table, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her eyes. She recognized his strategy of intellectual one-upmanship.

“Her Grace and I were just talking about how art makes us feel, no matter where we see it,” Durching said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “From illuminated manuscripts to modern novels, the fundamental human desire for narrative remains consistent.”

“A rather simplistic observation,” Leo couldn’t help remarking. “Though I suppose there is something to be said for broad generalizations.”

A slight frown creased Marina’s brow at his dismissive tone. Before she could speak, however, Durching was drawn into conversation by the lady to his left, momentarily distracting him from Marina.

Leo seized the opportunity. Beneath the table, concealed by the long damask cloth, he stretched out his leg until his foot found Marina’s. Slowly, deliberately, he ran the side of his boot along her slipper and up the silk of her stocking.

Marina’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze flying to his across the table. Leo maintained his expression as though he were merely considering the merits of the roast pheasant before him. Under the table, his foot continued its upward journey until it reached her knee.

A flush spread across Marina’s cheeks as she hastily reached for her water glass. Leo watched with satisfaction as she took a sip, her hand trembling slightly.

When her eyes met his again, they held shock, indignation, and unmistakable awareness.

Emboldened, Leo shifted in his chair, allowing his leg to press more firmly against hers. Marina’s breath caught visibly though she maintained her composure as she set down her glass.

The flash of heat in her eyes told him she was affected by his touch, despite her outward calm.

Taking advantage of the general conversation around them, Leo slid his foot higher, his eyes never leaving Marina’s face as he applied gentle pressure against her inner thigh.

The sharp intake of breath, the deepening color in her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips all confirmed the effect of his bold caress.

“Are you feeling warm, Duchess?” Alice asked. “You have gone quite pink.”

“Just the wine, I believe,” Marina replied, her voice admirably steady despite the circumstances. “It’s excellent this evening.”

“Indeed, it is,” Leo agreed, increasing the pressure of his touch. “A most stimulating vintage.”

Marina’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at his double entendre. He expected her to shift away, to deny him access, but to his surprise and delight, she instead adjusted her position to allow him better access. The silent acquiescence sent a surge of heat through his body.

Just as Leo moved his foot to the juncture of her thighs, preparing to apply more intimate pressure, Durching turned back to Marina.

“Your opinion on the matter, Duchess?” he asked, apparently continuing some earlier thread of conversation. “Is literature defined by scholarly recognition or popular appeal?”

Marina visibly struggled to focus as Leo maintained his hidden caress. “I believe true literature speaks to the human condition, regardless of critical reception,” she managed, her voice slightly breathless. “Some of the most enduring works were initially dismissed by scholars.”

Leo increased the pressure of his touch, silently demanding her full attention even as Durching continued to engage her in conversation. Her thighs tensed beneath his caress, but she didn’t pull away, the slight tremor in her hand as she reached for her wine the only outward sign of her distraction.

“A democratic view,” Durching replied, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Though I must say, I find those anonymous stories everyone’s reading hardly qualify as literature, despite their popularity. Mere titillation without substance.”

The dismissive comment broke through the haze of desire that had been building between them. Marina stiffened, her expression cooling as she withdrew from Leo’s touch beneath the table.

“You don’t consider them literature?” she asked, her voice controlled despite the flush still on her cheeks.

“Hardly,” Durching scoffed. “Entertaining, perhaps, in a vulgar sort of way. But literature requires depth, intellectual rigor, cultural significance.”

Leo recognized the flash of genuine hurt in Marina’s eyes before she masked it with polite interest. “And who determines these qualities? The same scholarly establishment that initially rejected novels as a legitimate form?”

“There is a clear distinction between serious artistic endeavor and pandering to base appetites,” Durching insisted. “These nameless stories are obviously the second kind.”

“I disagree,” Leo interjected, his earlier irritation with the Viscount transforming into genuine dislike. “The stories you dismiss so easily demonstrate remarkable psychological insight and emotional authenticity. Their popularity stems not from their subject but from their ability to capture genuine human experience.”

Durching looked surprised at the Duke’s passionate defense. “Surely you’re not suggesting these scandalous stories belong alongside Shakespeare and Milton?”

“I’m suggesting that dismissing any work simply because it addresses desire rather than intellectual concerns reflects a limited understanding of literature’s purpose,” Leo replied coolly. “And a very conservative view of human nature.”

“The Duke enjoys these stories because they flatter his ego,” Durching said to Marina with a condescending smile. “After all, isn’t the protagonist widely believed to be modeled on him?”

Marina’s expression hardened. “The stories’ value lies in their ability to speak to their audience, Lord Durching. They bring joy, excitement, and a sense of possibility to countless readers, particularly women whose emotional and physical needs are often ignored or suppressed by society.”

Her voice was calm but carried an underlying passion that commanded attention. “That seems a more significant literary achievement than gaining the approval of scholars who have traditionally excluded female experiences from the canon.”

A brief silence followed her defense. Leo found himself filled with unexpected pride at her well-spoken rebuttal and her refusal to be intimidated by Durching’s literary pretensions.

“Well said, Your Grace,” Alice remarked from her end of the table. “I agree with you. Literature that moves its readers is inherently valuable, regardless of its subject.”

Durching, finding himself suddenly outnumbered, attempted to recover. “I meant no offense. I simply believe in maintaining certain standards?—”

“Standards that conveniently exclude works that challenge traditional male authority,” Marina finished for him, her smile pleasant but her eyes unyielding. “How fortunate that readers, rather than critics, ultimately determine what endures.”

The conversation shifted as Dorian introduced a new topic, but the damage to Durching’s pretensions had been done. For the rest of the dinner, the Viscount spoke little, and his earlier confidence was notably diminished.

As Leo watched Marina gracefully engage with other guests, skillfully redirecting the conversation to more inclusive topics, he viewed his wife with fresh appreciation. The passionate defense of her writing revealed both her intelligence and her conviction. Marina truly believed in the value of her stories, not merely as sources of income but as meaningful contributions to her readers’ lives.

And he, Leo realized with a pang of regret, had never really acknowledged that value. He had seen her writing initially as a threat to his reputation then as a quirk to be tolerated but never as the serious artistic expression it represented for Marina herself.

It was yet another dimension of this complex woman he had married—a woman who continued to surprise and challenge him at every turn.

As the evening progressed, Leo found himself increasingly eager for when they would return home, when he might bridge the distance that had grown between them these past weeks.

Tonight, he resolved, they would finally have the conversation they had been avoiding since that moonlit night in the garden. And perhaps, if he was fortunate, something more.