Chapter 5 #2
“You were close to him. Closer than most, it would seem,” Leo pressed, watching her closely for any telltale reaction, ignoring the unexpected pang of something that felt distressingly like jealousy at the thought of her closeness with his cousin.
“You must have an idea where he might have gone, what connections he might have exploited in his flight.”
“I have no special knowledge of Philip’s whereabouts,” she insisted, her voice steady despite the flush rising to her cheeks.
A flush that he found himself tracking, noting how it spread from her throat to the delicate skin beneath her eyes.
“If I did, do you not think I would have mentioned it before now? Or would have saved myself from the humiliation of a second wedding within one week?”
“Perhaps,” Leo conceded, though his tone suggested skepticism. “Or perhaps you feel some misguided loyalty to the man who jilted you at the altar. Either way, I intend to find him and demand an explanation for his actions. Your assistance would be… appreciated.”
Her expression shifted before his eyes, soft uncertainty giving way to something sharper. The flicker of defiance drew him in despite himself, each subtle shift of her features like a new move across an invisible chessboard. He should have dismissed it, yet the transformation riveted him.
“And once you’ve found Philip? What then?”
A significant question, Leo thought.
And one that revealed more than she perhaps intended about her continued interest in his wayward cousin.
The thought rekindled that strange, unwelcome twist in his chest. It was a sensation he refused to examine too closely.
“Then our arrangement continues as established,” he replied smoothly, deciding to focus on the matter at hand instead. “Once the immediate scandal has faded, and Philip has been dealt with, we may each pursue our respective interests with minimal interference from the other.”
“How very enlightened of you,” she scoffed, the edge returning to her voice. “And remarkably convenient for a man who is known to have lovers spread all across England as well as the Continent.”
Leo stiffened. More disturbing still was his inexplicable desire to defend himself, a desire he had never felt with any other woman.
“Careful, Duchess,” he drawled. “One might almost think you were jealous.”
Her eyes flashed. “I am concerned about appearances, not affections. A duchess whose husband prowls gaming hells and brothels invites no less speculation than one jilted at the altar.”
“Well, now that we are married,” he said, still lightly but with a thread of steel beneath it, “you need not worry on that score. I will play the part of a dutiful husband. I have given you my word, have I not?”
With that, Leo rose from the chair in one fluid motion, then approached her with measured steps until her back was pressed against the headboard, her eyes widening slightly. Despite her evident alarm, she maintained eye contact, refusing to cower.
“Will you not answer, Duchess?” he asked, his tone conversational now, as he tracked every minute shift in her expression.
She huffed and crossed her arms, such that the covers fell down and offered him a view of her breasts, pushed up by the simple gesture.
The thrill that ran through his body at the sight was a stark reminder that, yes, he was a rake through and through, and now his wife was going to be the center of his basest desires for as long as their marriage lasted.
No.
He gritted his teeth. He ought to have more restraint over his body by now.
“I… suppose you are right,” she said, though he noted the slight tremor in her voice. “Though I wonder how good you will be at pretending to be a devoted husband, when all you know is how to be a rake.”
Instead of answering, Leo reached out, allowing his fingertips to lightly brush against her cheek. The gesture, innocent by any objective measure, nonetheless charged the air between them with tension.
The softness of her skin beneath his touch sent an alarming current through his body, heightened unwelcome sensations. She inhaled sharply at the contact, her lips parting slightly in surprise.
Lips that Leo suddenly found himself contemplating with inappropriate intensity.
“Why is your hand so cold?” she whispered
And the spell broke instantaneously.
Leo withdrew his hand immediately, his expression shuttering as he retreated behind the practiced mask of ducal indifference. Her observation struck too close to the core of secrets he had no intention of sharing.
“The night air,” he offered by way of explanation. “I rode for some time after leaving the carriage.”
She studied him with renewed curiosity, as if this small physical anomaly had provided some insight into his character that his words had failed to convey.
Her scrutiny was uncomfortable in its intensity, as though she might peer through the carefully constructed facade he presented to the world and glimpse the damaged creature beneath.
“Is that where you were all evening? Riding through places?” she asked, her voice still low.
“My whereabouts are not your concern,” he replied, taking a step back from the dangerous territory of her perceptiveness. “Just as yours will not be mine, once our period of adjustment has passed.”
“I find it curious,” she remarked, her tone measured, though he detected a subtle undercurrent beneath her composure, “that you speak of separation with such certainty, as though Philip’s whereabouts are the only impediment to our parting ways.”
Leo weighed her words, realizing they carried no bitterness toward their bargain but a clear-eyed judgment of his rush to end it.
The thought unsettled him, stirring a reluctance to face his own eagerness to mark the terms of their parting.
“Our arrangement was established with mutual benefit in mind,” he reminded her, though privately he questioned why he felt compelled to justify terms they had already agreed upon. “We both understood the nature of this alliance from its inception.”
“Indeed,” she replied, her gaze direct and unwavering, revealing an acuity that few in Society would have credited to the quiet daughter of Ironstone, according to the brief research he did on her before their wedding.
“Yet one wonders what benefit you derive that could not have been derived through other means. Surely you needn’t feel so bound by duty to your cousin as to choose so permanent a remedy as matrimony? ”
Leo felt his patience wearing thin. The way her direct gaze caused a tightening in his chest, the way in which her forthright challenges penetrated defenses long thought impregnable…
She both infuriated and fascinated him. And the fascinated part mostly wished to see just how much bite her lips had if he tasted them.
Focus, Stagmore.
“I gain the satisfaction of having rectified my cousin’s dishonorable behavior, and the knowledge that my family name has not been tarnished by his actions. That should be a sufficient explanation.”
“For most men, perhaps,” she relented, her perceptiveness once again disconcerting him. “But you, as you’ve said, are not most men, Your Grace.”
A smile spread across his lips, sharp and sudden.
Little minx.
Yet the thought carried a grudging note of admiration. She remembered everything he said and used his own words against him with unnerving precision.
Trust her to be as quick-witted as she was beautiful.
He turned toward the door, suddenly eager to escape the tension crackling in the air between them.
“I shall leave you to your rest now, Duchess. We will continue our discussion tomorrow, when you are well rested.”
“I shall anticipate it eagerly,” she replied, her tone making it abundantly clear that she anticipated no such thing.
He stopped before moving away. Some devil of perversity compelled him to reassert control over the encounter, to leave her with a reminder of precisely who he was and what power he wielded.
“Your sarcasm is noted, Duchess,” he said, watching her eyes narrow. “But I’ll see to it that your words prove true. Most women anticipate my company. Some even hunt for it. With enthusiasm.”
Her chin lifted, a spark of defiance illuminating her features in a way that Leo found compelling. Even in the face of his deliberate provocation, she refused to yield.
“Then I shall consider myself an anomaly, Your Grace. For I assure you, I will never beg for your attention.”
Leo found himself captivated by the challenge in her words, the invisible gauntlet thrown between them.
He closed the distance between them with deliberate slowness, watching as her eyes widened with each step he took, noting the subtle quickening of her breathing, the tension that gathered in her slender form.
He bent forward until his face hovered mere inches above hers, close enough that he could detect the faint scent of lavender that clung to her hair, close enough to see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat.
Her proximity affected him more than he cared to admit, awakening impulses he had thought himself master of.
His gaze dropped deliberately to her lips, lingering there with unambiguous intent before rising again to meet her eyes. He noted with satisfaction the flush that had risen to her cheeks, the hitch in her breath despite her defiant words.
Yet beneath his satisfaction lurked an unexpected hunger, a desire not merely to elicit a reaction but to claim, to possess. An impulse he had no intention of indulging.
“We shall see about that, darling,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a purr that had made many women blush over the years. Never before had he felt such a curious mix of triumph and restraint in employing it.
Without waiting for her response, he straightened and strode out of her chamber, closing the door firmly behind him. And only in the darkness of the corridor did he acknowledge the unsettling truth.
For the first time in memory, he was not entirely certain if he had emerged victorious.