Page 32 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction (Dukes of Passion #3)
CHAPTER 32
“ T he captain knew, as he watched her walk away across the windswept shore, that some treasures were not meant to be possessed but cherished from afar, like stars that guide a sailor home without ever being touched,” Leo read aloud, his voice softening on the final words. He looked up from the manuscript to find Marina watching him anxiously from her position by the window. “This is extraordinary.”
“You really think so?” Marina moved closer, her fingers twisting together in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. “It’s different from my earlier work.”
Leo set the last page on top of the neat stack on his desk and took a moment to collect his thoughts. The sea captain’s tale had grown into something far more complex than the adventures he’d first read. It was now a story of longing, sacrifice, and the quiet courage required to love without demanding possession.
“It’s brilliant,” he said, rising to meet her. “You’ve given the captain a depth that transforms him from merely heroic to genuinely human. His conflict between duty and desire feels real. You’ve brought him to life in the pages of your story.”
A smile spread across Marina’s face, lighting her eyes in a way that made Leo’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar sensation. “I worried it might be too emotional for readers who expect more action.”
Leo caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. “The passion is still there, but it is expressed differently.” He hesitated then added, “You’ve written his journey with remarkable insight.”
“Perhaps I’ve gained some perspective lately,” Marina replied, her gaze holding his in a way that hinted she saw more than he intended to reveal.
Since their conversation about William and Felicity three days ago, something had changed between them. Marina had offered no judgment, no platitudes about forgiveness or moving forward—just quiet understanding that somehow eased the burden he’d carried for so long.
“I was planning to visit my club this afternoon,” Leo said, still holding her hand. “But I could deliver this to Pritchard on my way if you’d like.”
Marina’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’m curious to hear his reaction.” Leo gathered the manuscript pages, straightening them carefully. “Your new direction deserves recognition.”
As he placed the pages into a leather portfolio, Leo wondered at his own eagerness to support Marina’s writing. Before, he had viewed her stories as a threat to his reputation. Now he took genuine pride in her talent, in the growth of her confidence as she grew in her writing.
Marina moved to help him secure the manuscript and her fingers brushed his as they worked. The casual contact sent a now-familiar warmth through him—desire, yes, but also something more complex that Leo wasn’t ready to name.
“Thank you,” she said when they finished. “For reading it. For understanding.”
Leo cupped her cheek, drawn to the vulnerability in her expression. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
He kissed her then, a gentle meeting of lips that quickly deepened as Marina pressed closer. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, her body melting against his with an eagerness that still surprised and delighted him.
When they finally separated, both breathless, Leo reluctantly stepped back. “If I don’t leave now, Pritchard will close for the day, and we’ll have thoroughly scandalized the servants.”
Marina laughed. “We can’t have that. The poor footmen would never recover.”
Leo forced himself to retrieve his hat and gloves, but his body protested the separation. “I’ll see you at dinner?”
“I’ll be waiting,” she promised, following him to the door. The intimate knowledge in her smile nearly broke his resolve, but Leo took his leave with his dignity intact, if only barely.
The streets of London bustled with afternoon activity as Leo’s carriage made its way to Pritchard’s establishment near Paternoster Row. The respectable printer had proven an excellent connection for Marina. The man was honest in his business dealings and genuinely appreciative of her talent.
“Your Grace,” Pritchard greeted him with surprise when Leo entered the shop, portfolio in hand. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I’ve brought the Duchess’ latest manuscript,” Leo explained and placed the leather case on the counter between them. “She’s taken her work in a rather interesting new direction.”
Pritchard’s eyes brightened as he accepted the portfolio. “Her last story was extremely well-received, Your Grace. Several gentlemen’s clubs have standing orders for each new release.”
Leo raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. The thought of London’s finest gentlemen discreetly indulging in Marina’s stories alongside their brandy and cigars was unexpectedly amusing.
“Oh, indeed, Your Grace,” Pritchard continued eagerly. “While the ladies openly discuss her work in their drawing rooms, their husbands are quietly just as captivated.” He carefully opened the portfolio and glanced inside. “Please convey my gratitude to Her Grace. Her writing has significantly boosted my humble establishment’s business.”
“I will,” Leo said, feeling a curious pride at this confirmation of Marina’s popularity. “She’ll be delighted to hear it.”
After finishing his business with Pritchard, Leo directed his coachman toward White’s then changed his mind and redirected him to Noah’s townhouse instead. The sudden need for his friend’s particular brand of irreverent honesty was compelling.
Noah’s butler showed him into the study where Crawford lounged with a book and a glass of his favorite claret, looking thoroughly at ease.
“The Duke of Blackmere gracing my humble abode?” Noah closed his book with exaggerated surprise. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit? Surely you haven’t tired of marital bliss already?”
Leo removed his gloves and settled into the chair opposite his friend. “Hardly. I simply found myself in the neighborhood and thought I’d inflict my company on you for an hour.”
“How thoughtful,” Noah said dryly, pouring another glass of wine and sliding it toward Leo. “Though, I must admit, you seem suspiciously content for someone who once claimed marriage was a prison sentence.”
“Perhaps I’ve found that captivity isn’t entirely unpleasant,” Leo countered, a faint smile appearing as he accepted the wine.
Noah regarded him seriously for a moment, his usual teasing manner slipping away. “Honestly, Leo, I haven’t seen you this relaxed since before Felicity.”
The mention of her name struck Leo harder than he’d anticipated, abruptly dispelling his moment of ease. Noah winced slightly, clearly regretting bringing her up.
“Sorry. I know it’s still a sore subject.”
“No, it’s fine,” Leo said automatically, but something cold had settled in his stomach at the comparison. “Marina and I actually talked about Felicity recently.”
Noah’s eyebrows shot upward. “Did you?”
“She deserved to know the truth,” Leo said, swirling the wine in his glass without drinking. “After William and Felicity left, I kept everyone at a distance. Including you.”
“I noticed,” Noah replied dryly. “Though I continued irritating you with my presence anyway.”
Leo smiled despite the disquiet growing within him. “For which I’m grateful even though I neglected to tell you.”
“Good God, you really have changed.” Noah leaned forward, his expression turning serious again. “The Duchess must be quite the influence.”
“She is,” Leo admitted, finally taking a sip of his wine to disguise the sudden tightness in his throat.
There was something disconcerting about Noah’s comparison. Marina was nothing like Felicity. Felicity had been calculating beneath her charm, while Marina was forthright. While Felicity had pursued him in part for his title, Marina had married him reluctantly for protection.
And yet… hadn’t Marina also deceived him initially? Writing stories that exploited his reputation, hiding her true identity? Just when he started to trust her, to feel something beyond physical desire, Noah’s casual words had planted a seed of doubt that found fertile ground in Leo’s old wounds.
Their conversation drifted to safer topics, but the undercurrent of unease remained as Leo finished his wine and took his leave.
“Give my regards to your duchess,” Noah called as Leo departed. “She’s been good for you, Leo. Don’t sabotage it.”
The warning, offered with the brutal honesty of genuine friendship, followed Leo as he returned to his carriage. Noah knew him too well. Knew about his tendency to retreat when emotions threatened to overcome his carefully constructed defenses.
As the carriage made its way through London’s bustling streets, Leo’s mind began wandering toward unsettling comparisons. Marina had changed remarkably in recent weeks, her charm and wit earning her a respected place among society far beyond her former status as merely a countess. The ton had welcomed her warmly, drawn to her intelligence and newfound confidence.
But wasn’t that exactly how things had started with Felicity? Her rise in popularity, the growing circle of admirers, her increasing independence?
Leo shook his head, frustrated with himself for even drawing the comparison. Marina wasn’t Felicity. Their situations couldn’t have been more different.
Yet a troubling thought lingered. What if Marina, now comfortably established as a duchess with both financial independence and literary acclaim, no longer needed him? What if she’d simply played the devoted wife until she felt secure enough to stand on her own?
Leo knew the thought was irrational, but it took root. Marina had never given him any reason to question her sincerity. Their bond had evolved beyond mere arrangement, becoming genuine and deepening day by day.
Yet as his carriage approached Berkeley Square, Leo watched a handsome young man help a fashionably dressed lady into a hackney carriage, their hands lingering a moment too long for propriety. The echo of betrayal thrummed through him, a memory of another pair of hands clasped in darkness.
Felicity made her choice once before, the insidious voice whispered. What makes you think Marina won’t make a similar choice when the opportunity arises?
By the time he arrived home, Leo had subdued the worst of his unfounded suspicions, but a certain guardedness remained. He watched Marina at dinner with fresh eyes, looking for signs of deceit or calculation in her animated conversation about a book she’d been reading.
“You’re quiet tonight,” she observed as they sat before the fire in his study after the meal, her needlework forgotten in her lap as she studied him. “Is something bothering you?”
Leo forced a smile, reaching for the brandy decanter to refill his glass. “Just distracted by some business matters. Nothing important.”
Marina’s gaze remained on his face a moment too long, as if sensing the lie. Then she nodded, returning to her embroidery.
The ease between them had fractured, and Leo knew it was his fault. Noah was right. He was sabotaging what they had built together and allowing old fears to poison the present. Yet, knowing this didn’t seem to help him stop the spiral of suspicion.
As he watched Marina’s bent head, the firelight playing across her dark curls, Leo was seized by a painful realization. He cared for her far more deeply than he had intended. The thought of losing her, of being betrayed again, was suddenly unbearable.
And that vulnerability terrified him more than any external threat ever could.