Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“You married her.” Philip’s words weren’t a question but a statement of disbelief, whispered after Beatrice had left to speak with their driver. “You actually married her.”
Leo turned away from the window, where he had been watching his wife cross the small garden path, her graceful figure moving with purpose despite the uneven ground. “As I said, the circumstances demanded immediate action.”
“And yet…” Philip studied him intently. “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”
“You’ve been in the country for too long, Cousin. The sheep must be telling you stories now,” Leo said lightly, though something in his chest tightened at his cousin’s observation.
Philip laughed again. “Stories, is it? You know I’m right. Good God, Leo, you practically burn holes through the air when you look at her.”
“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Leo scoffed, though he felt heat rising to his face. An unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation.
Philip’s expression softened. “I should apologize properly. For dragging you into this scandal, for disappearing, for—”
“Enough,” Leo cut him off. “It’s done. You don’t need to keep pressing the point.”
“But I do.” Philip stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never wanted to put anyone at risk, least of all Beatrice. Or you.”
Leo sighed. “I know that. You’ve always been impulsive, but never malicious.”
“You look different,” Philip said abruptly, his head tilting as he studied him. “It’s been what? A year, maybe two, since I last saw you? But it’s not just time. Something’s changed. You seem… lighter somehow.”
Leo shrugged, turning back to the window. “People change.”
“Not you.” Philip’s voice carried a certainty that pricked Leo’s composure. “Not the immovable Duke of Stagmore. At least, not until now. It’s her, isn’t it?”
Leo didn’t think now was the time for this conversation, or if they should be having it at all. How could he explain the curious way Beatrice had slipped past his defenses? The unexpected warmth her presence brought into rooms that had felt cold for as long as he could remember?
“We should finish preparing for our departure,” he said instead, refusing to meet his cousin’s knowing gaze. “There’s much to be done.”
Philip looked as though he might press the issue further, but the sound of the cottage door opening announced Beatrice’s return, and the moment for such confidences passed.
“The driver has agreed to remain here,” she announced, her cheeks flushed from the cold air outside. “Though I believe I’ve scandalized him thoroughly by suggesting that Philip take his place.”
Leo couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “I imagine he’ll recover from the shock when he sees the coins I’ll place in his palm.”
“Indeed,” Beatrice agreed, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away.
Leo noticed that Philip glanced between them, an amused quirk to his lips. He chose to ignore that.
“We should depart now,” he declared, gathering his greatcoat from where he had draped it over a chair. “Philip, do you have everything you need?”
His cousin nodded, patting the bundle wrapped in cloth at his feet. “I do. I traveled light, for obvious reasons.”
“Good. Let’s be on our way, then.”
The journey back to London proceeded with minimal incident. Philip, attired in the driver’s rough clothing and with the hat pulled low over his eyes, played his role with surprising skill.
The few travelers they passed on the road paid them little mind. They were merely another well-dressed couple and a servant returning to the city.
At each coaching inn where they stopped to change horses, Leo found himself acutely aware of Beatrice’s presence beside him—the subtle floral scent of her perfume, the graceful way she moved, the quiet authority she commanded without apparent effort.
Each observation seemed to embed itself deeper into his consciousness, building a portrait of his wife that grew more complex with every passing hour.
“Do you think Anna will be well?” Beatrice asked as their carriage rolled through the increasingly populated outskirts of London.
Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, betraying an anxiety her neutral expression masked.
“Blackwood is competent,” Leo assured her. “No harm will come to her while she’s under his protection.”
Beatrice nodded, though her fingers continued their restless movement.
Without thinking, Leo reached across to still them with his own hand. Her skin felt warm beneath his touch, soft in a way that evoked memories of the night they had shared.
Her eyes met his, wide with surprise, and for a moment, neither spoke. An acknowledgement passed between them. Acknowledgement of the intimacy they had shared, or a silent question about what it might mean.
The carriage rolled over a particularly rough patch of road, breaking the moment. Leo withdrew his hand, clearing his throat.
“We’ll stop at Adrian’s residence first,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “Philip will be safe there until we can arrange for him to join Anna.”
“Will it be safe, truly?” Beatrice asked.
While Leo couldn’t fault her for her loyalty, it was an entirely different matter when it came to the jealousy bubbling in his chest. But he pushed that aside. He would get to the bottom of this feeling later.
So, he merely nodded. “Yes. You know we can trust Adrian.”
They reached the back of Tillfield House, and after the housekeeper admitted them through the servants’ entrance, they met Adrian in the parlor.
He greeted them with characteristic flair, ushering them inside with a theatrical sweep of his arm while managing to convey both welcome and discretion in a single gesture.
“My dear Duke and Duchess!” he exclaimed, bowing with perfect courtesy despite the unusual circumstances. “And—good heavens, is that Mallingham beneath that appalling hat? What an unexpected delight!”
Philip grinned despite himself, removing the offending headgear. “Good to see you, Adrian. Terribly sorry to impose.”
“Nonsense,” Adrian said with a wave of his hand. “What are friends for, if not to hide each other from criminals? Makes life so much more interesting than playing a game of whist at White’s.”
Leo shot him a warning look, which Adrian cheerfully ignored.
“Philip needs to stay here briefly,” he explained. “Just until arrangements can be made to reunite him with Miss Finley.”
Adrian’s expression softened into something more genuine. “Of course. My home is yours, Philip. We’ll have you looking presentable again in no time. We can’t have you reuniting with your beloved looking like you’ve been dragged backward through a hedgerow, can we?”
Philip’s shoulders relaxed visibly at this warm welcome, and Leo felt a surge of gratitude for his friend’s unfailing loyalty.
“Thank you,” Philip said quietly. “For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Adrian replied with a wink. “Wait until you’ve tasted my chef’s cooking. A positively revolutionary approach to French cuisine. You may reconsider your gratitude.”
After ensuring Philip was comfortably settled and providing Adrian with detailed instructions regarding security measures, Leo escorted Beatrice back to their waiting carriage, where one of Adrian’s drivers was ready to take them home.
“Are you certain there’s no other safer place to hide him?” she asked as they pulled away from the house.
“Philip is as safe as he can be anywhere in London,” Leo assured her. “Adrian’s frivolous manner disguises a remarkably shrewd mind, and his servants are unquestioningly loyal.”
Beatrice nodded, her gaze drifting to the passing streets. “It feels strange, doesn’t it? To have found him after all this time.”
“Yes,” Leo agreed, studying her profile in the fading afternoon light. “Though I’m not entirely certain what comes next.”
She turned to him, a question in her eyes, and he realized his words could be interpreted as addressing more than just their pursuit of Philip.
Mrs. Winters greeted them at the door, unruffled despite their sudden appearance. “Welcome home, Your Graces. I trust your journey was successful?”
“Quite,” Leo replied, handing his hat and gloves to the waiting footman. “Has there been any word from Mr. Blackwood?”
“Yes, Your Grace. A messenger arrived not an hour ago with this.” She produced a sealed note from her pocket, presenting it with practiced efficiency.
Leo broke the seal and scanned the neat, precise handwriting. “The constable reports progress,” he announced, satisfaction evident in his tone. “He’s identified several officials in Westbury’s employ and has begun building a case against them.”
Relief washed over Beatrice’s features. “That’s excellent news.”
“Indeed. Westbury’s defenses are beginning to crumble. Soon he’ll be exposed, and when that happens…” Leo trailed off, though his meaning was clear.
Beatrice nodded in understanding. “Then Philip and Anna will finally be safe.”
“Yes.” Leo folded the note and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. “Though there’s still much to be done.”
The day’s exertions suddenly seemed to catch up with him, the tension of their mission settling into his muscles like lead weights.
An uncharacteristic weariness swept through him beyond physical exhaustion. It was something deeper, as though the constant vigilance he maintained had begun to take its toll.
He called to a waiting footman, “Prepare a bath. Hot water, not cold.”
The footman’s eyes widened slightly at this deviation from his master’s usual preference, but he bowed without comment. “At once, Your Grace.”
Leo turned to find Beatrice watching him with an unreadable expression. Something passed between them—a memory, perhaps, of their conversation in the inn room, of revelations shared and boundaries crossed.
Without fully considering his actions, he extended his hand toward her. “Are you coming with me, wife?”
Beatrice’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Color rose to her cheeks, that delicious flush he was growing to crave.
For a moment, Leo thought she would refuse him, and with that fear came the realization that he was not going to retreat so nobly should she do so. Not after having a taste of her and feeling her come on his tongue. No, certainly not after that.
But contrary to that fear, his wife stepped forward, placing her hand in his with a certainty that sent a current of awareness through his body, only to pool in his loins.
“Yes,” she said simply, her voice soft but clear in the quiet hallway. “I think I will.”