Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Istill think this is unnecessary,” Leo muttered as their carriage approached the imposing facade of Ironstone House. “We could have simply invited them to Stagmore.”
Beatrice smoothed her skirts, fighting a smile at his obvious discomfort. “Father insisted we come. He says he’s missed us terribly, though I suspect he wants to interrogate you without the disadvantage of being on your territory.”
“To ensure I haven’t broken your spirit, no doubt.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She reached across to straighten his already immaculate cravat. “Though he might check for bruises.”
Leo caught her hand, bringing it to his lips in a gesture that sent warmth through her. “The only marks between us are entirely consensual, my dear.”
The carriage slowed to a halt, and Beatrice felt a flutter of nerves. She hadn’t seen her family in many weeks, and while her letters had been reassuring, she knew her father and Isabella would scrutinize every interaction between her and Leo.
“Remember,” she whispered as the footman opened the carriage door, “Isabella will try to provoke you. Don’t rise to it.”
Leo’s smile held a dangerous edge. “I look forward to the challenge.”
Her father awaited them at the entrance, his imposing figure framed in the doorway. Beside him stood Christine, elegant as always, with Henry and Eleanor practically vibrating with excitement behind her.
“Father,” Beatrice greeted, accepting his embrace with genuine pleasure.
“You look well,” he said gruffly, holding her at arm’s length to study her face. His eyes, sharp and assessing, missed nothing.
“She is well, Duke,” Leo spoke up, stepping forward to shake his hand. “Though I suspect you need more evidence than mere appearance.”
Her father’s eyebrows rose slightly. “A wise assumption, Stagmore.”
“Edwin,” Christine chided gently, “perhaps we might continue this conversation inside? The children are beside themselves.”
As if on cue, Eleanor broke free from her mother’s restraining hand and hurled herself at Beatrice with the full force of her seven-year-old enthusiasm.
“Bea! We’ve missed you terribly! Henry’s been absolutely beastly without you to scold him, and Isabella locks herself in her room for hours. And I’ve learned four new piano pieces that you simply must hear!”
Beatrice laughed, gathering her little sister close. “I’ve missed you, too, darling. All of you.”
Henry approached with more dignity, though his excitement was barely contained beneath his attempt at proper decorum.
“Hello, Bea,” he greeted, then turned to Leo with undisguised curiosity. “Your Grace.”
Leo bowed to the boy with the same respect he might show a peer. “Lord Henry. I understand you’re quite the horseman.”
Henry puffed out his chest with pride. “Father says I have a natural seat.”
“Then perhaps you’ll join me for a ride tomorrow morning? I’d value your opinion on a new hunter I’ve acquired.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“If your father permits it,” Leo added, glancing at the Duke of Ironstone.
Beatrice watched her father’s expression shift from suspicion to grudging approval.
“A fine suggestion,” he conceded. “But… I shall accompany you.”
“Even better,” Leo replied smoothly. “I’ve heard much about your expertise with horseflesh.”
As they moved inside, Isabella appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with deliberate slowness. Her gaze locked on Leo with undisguised suspicion.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice calm but edged with steel, “I hope your attention remains focused on my sister.”
Leo’s lips curled into a wry smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Rest assured, Lady Isabella. I have not forgotten your counsel from our last encounter. It seems some reminders are worth repeating.”
Isabella’s gaze held firm, though a hint of satisfaction softened her expression. “Indeed. Some things, it appears, require reinforcement.”
Although it was clear that she did not believe a word he said.
“Shall we move to the drawing room?” Christine suggested, expertly defusing the tension. “Tea has been prepared, and I’m certain Beatrice and His Grace would appreciate refreshment after their journey.”
Later, as they gathered around the dinner table, Beatrice found herself watching Leo navigate her family’s dynamics with surprising skill.
He discussed agricultural innovations with her father, listened to Eleanor’s enthusiastic descriptions of her pony, and even managed to draw a reluctant smile from Isabella with a particularly cutting observation about a mutual acquaintance.
“You’re staring again,” he murmured, a smile playing on his lips.
Beatrice felt heat rise to her cheeks but refused to look away. “Perhaps I enjoy the view,” she whispered.
“Bea!” Eleanor’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
Beatrice tore her gaze from her husband to find her half-sister pouting across the table, her arms folded in childish indignation.
“Forgive me, darling. What were you saying?” She reached across to squeeze Eleanor’s small hand.
“I was telling you,” Eleanor huffed dramatically, “that Henry is teaching me chess, but he says I’m too impatient. Which is silly because I can sit still for ages when I want to.”
Henry, seated beside his younger sister, rolled his eyes with the weary superiority of his eleven years. “You knocked over the board when I took your queen.”
“Because you cheated!”
“I did not!”
“Children,” Christine interjected with gentle firmness, “perhaps we might save such discussions for after dinner?”
The Duke of Ironstone cleared his throat, his gaze settling on Leo with the scrutiny Beatrice recognized very well.
“I must say, your management of Stagmore has impressed me, especially after our ride this morning,” he admitted, his tone grudgingly respectful. “The new drainage system in the south pastures is particularly effective.”
“Thank you, Duke,” Leo replied, meeting his gaze with steady confidence. “We’ve seen a thirty percent increase in yield since implementation.”
“Fascinating,” Isabella drawled from her place beside Beatrice, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Agricultural innovations… how thrilling.”
Beatrice shot her twin a warning look. Isabella merely raised an eyebrow, unrepentant.
“I find it rather interesting,” Henry piped up unexpectedly. “Father says that a peer who neglects his land neglects his duty.” He turned to Leo with sudden earnestness. “Do you ride fence lines yourself? Father always says that—”
“That a duke who won’t inspect his own property doesn’t deserve to own it,” Leo finished, smiling at the boy. “Your father is a wise man. And yes, I ride the borders monthly.”
Beatrice watched in amazement as her husband engaged her little brother in serious conversation about estate management, addressing him with the same respect he might show a peer. Henry sat straighter in his chair, chest puffing slightly at being taken so seriously.
“Perhaps you might accompany me tomorrow morning,” Leo suggested.
Henry’s eyes widened with undisguised excitement. “Might I really? Father, may I?”
Beatrice watched her father hesitate, his protective instincts visibly warring with his son’s obvious delight. “If His Grace doesn’t find it an imposition.”
“Not at all,” Leo replied easily. “I’d welcome the company.”
Eleanor tugged at Leo’s sleeve, unwilling to be outdone by her brother. “Will you take me too?”
Leo’s expression softened as he regarded the small face turned trustingly toward him. “Perhaps the day after tomorrow. I understand there are new foals in the stables that require expert assessment.”
“I’m excellent with horses,” Eleanor declared with perfect confidence. “Papa says I have the Hunton way with them.”
“Then I will need your expertise,” Leo agreed with a gravity that made Beatrice’s heart twist unexpectedly.
She caught Christine’s knowing smile across the table and felt her face warm again. Her stepmother had always been unnervingly perceptive, especially when it came to matters of the heart.
“Beatrice tells me you’ve uncovered some fascinating botanical manuscripts,” Christine said, smoothly changing the topic. “Lady Margaret Ashwell’s work, I believe?”
Leo turned to her, surprise flickering in his eyes at the mention of his great-aunt. “Yes, indeed. Beatrice has been instrumental in cataloging the collection. Her insight has been invaluable.”
“Bea always had a head for such things,” her father remarked with gruff pride. “Sharp mind, that girl.”
“Indeed,” Leo agreed, his gaze finding Beatrice’s once more. “Among her many admirable qualities.”
The warmth in his voice sent a tremor through her. This wasn’t the practiced charm he deployed among the ton. This was something real, something honest that he offered without calculation or restraint.
“How perfectly sickening,” Isabella muttered, though not quietly enough.
“You find mutual respect between spouses objectionable, Lady Isabella?” Leo inquired, his tone mild, though his eyes glinted with challenge.
Isabella lifted her chin. “I find pretense objectionable, Your Grace.”
Tension crackled across the table. Beatrice held her breath, uncertain whether to intervene. Leo merely smiled, his expression somehow both dangerous and amused.
“On that, we are in complete agreement,” he said. “Which is why I never engage in it.”
Isabella opened her mouth to retort, but Christine deftly inserted herself into the impending skirmish.
“Eleanor, darling, why don’t you tell the Duke about your new pony? The one with the star on its forehead?”
With the potential confrontation successfully defused, dinner proceeded with relative peace.
Beatrice marveled at how naturally Leo adapted to her family’s dynamics, matching her father’s seriousness, entertaining the children, and deflecting Isabella’s barbs with good humor.