Chapter 12 #2
The man who had married her out of duty and honor now extended the same protection to a commoner whose only connection to him was through his wayward cousin.
There was far more depth to him than she would have ever guessed.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, moving to stand beside him.
Leo glanced down at her, his expression inscrutable in the dim light. “For what, exactly?”
“For this.” She gestured toward Anna. “For showing kindness, when many men of your station would have shown only contempt.”
His gaze softened for a moment, transforming his severe features into something altogether more approachable.
“Anna may be our best chance of locating Philip,” he said simply.
But Beatrice was not deceived by his attempt at emotional distance. She had glimpsed something genuine beneath the carefully constructed facade of ducal indifference—a capacity for compassion that he seemed determined to conceal even from himself.
As Anna approached with her small bundle of possessions, tears still damp on her cheeks, Beatrice moved to comfort her once more.
“She’ll need proper clothes,” Leo remarked as Anna was led away by the staff of Leo’s Chelsea property.
His gaze followed her retreating figure, noting the threadbare quality of her garments and the tense set of her shoulders despite Beatrice’s reassurance.
“Something befitting her station, but of sufficient quality to maintain appearances, should inquiries be made.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow, his usual levity momentarily abandoned in favor of genuine surprise. “My friend, I believe matrimony has brought a transformation more profound than even I anticipated. Next, you’ll be building orphanages and championing parliamentary reform.”
Leo ignored his friend’s needling and instead focused his attention on their current predicament.
The discovery of Lord Westbury’s involvement in criminal enterprise changed the nature of Philip’s disappearance entirely, elevating it from mere social impropriety to genuine peril.
Despite this more pressing concern, Leo found his thoughts repeatedly returning to his wife’s gentle competence as she comforted the distraught Anna. It was a glimpse of character that disturbed his carefully maintained emotional equilibrium more than he cared to admit.
“Peters,” he addressed the waiting footman, “arrange for suitable clothes to be delivered discreetly. Nothing ostentatious, but of good quality. And send for Blackwood immediately. The situation requires his particular talents.”
“At once, Your Grace,” the footman replied, before scurrying away.
“Blackwood?” Adrian echoed, his expression suggesting both recognition and mild concern. “The former pugilist with a rather colorful military background? I have wondered where he’d disappeared to after that unpleasantness at Lord Carroway’s country estate.”
“He serves as my head of security when circumstances warrant additional… protection,” Leo replied, deliberately vague about the precise nature of Blackwood’s duties.
The man’s skills, honed in the Peninsula War and refined in less formal conflicts since, had proven invaluable on the rare occasions when authority required more direct enforcement.
Beatrice approached, her expression thoughtful as she rejoined their small circle.
“Anna is settling into her chambers,” she reported. “Though I fear she remains deeply worried about Philip’s safety.”
Leo studied his wife’s composed features, struck anew by the quiet strength in her bearing.
Throughout this extraordinary day, she had demonstrated a resourcefulness and courage that defied his initial assessment of her character.
Where he had expected the timid compliance Society attributed to her, he had instead discovered resolute determination. Where he had anticipated disdain toward Anna’s circumstances, he had witnessed genuine compassion.
The realization unsettled him more profoundly than the dangers they now faced.
He had entered their marriage with clear expectations and carefully delineated boundaries.
Yet, in the space of a single day, those boundaries had begun to blur, revealing complexities he had neither anticipated nor desired.
Snapping himself out of those thoughts, Leo turned to his friend. “See that the Duchess returns safely to the townhouse,” he instructed. “She has done more than enough today.”
Adrian inclined his head. “As you wish, my friend.”
Beatrice looked at Leo. “I could stay here. Wait with you.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather you were safely back home, dear. And… I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge your efforts. Helping recover Philip, calming Anna… You have my gratitude.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around her gloves. “I only did what I could. Anna needed a safe place. I am thankful you provided one.”
“Then consider this a formal acknowledgment,” he said, his voice low. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment longer than decorum required. “You have my thanks, Beatrice.” Then, he looked at his friend. “See that you both return safely.”
“With pleasure.” Adrian bowed with a flourish before turning toward Beatrice. “Your Grace, shall we?”
With that, he extended his arm, which Beatrice accepted with a polite nod.
As they stepped into the waiting carriage, she pressed a gloved hand to the door in silent farewell.
Leo watched until the carriage turned the corner and disappeared from view.
By the time Blackwood arrived at the Chelsea property, Leo had issued comprehensive instructions for Anna’s protection: armed guards stationed discreetly around the perimeter, protocols for visitors, and strict limitations on her movements outside the house.
The former soldier had received these directives with the impassive competence that had made him invaluable in Leo’s occasional encounters with London’s more dangerous elements.
“Consider her family,” Leo had instructed before his departure, “to be protected accordingly.”
Blackwood had nodded once, understanding perfectly the level of commitment. “No one will touch her, Your Grace. You have my word on that.”