Chapter 24 #2
“Did you?” Her father’s expression suggested he knew exactly what kind of ‘air’ they’d been getting. “Well, the children insist on saying goodnight before we leave. They’re to return to our country estate tomorrow.”
Eleanor rushed forward, throwing her arms around Beatrice’s waist. “Must you stay in London? Can’t you come home with us?”
Beatrice knelt to embrace her sister. “I’m afraid we have obligations here, darling. But we’ll visit soon, I promise.”
“When?”
“Very soon.” Beatrice glanced up at Leo, a question in her eyes.
“Within a fortnight,” he confirmed, surprising himself. “If that suits you, Duchess?”
Isabella’s eyebrows rose. “A family visit? How… domestic.”
“Bella,” Beatrice chided, though her lips twitched.
Henry stepped forward with the careful dignity he had been cultivating. “Will you bring the chess set you promised, Your Grace? The one with the carved knights?”
“I will.” Leo found himself genuinely pleased by the boy’s enthusiasm. “And perhaps you’ll give me that rematch you’ve been planning.”
“I’ve been studying the Italian opening,” Henry announced proudly.
“Have you? Excellent. I look forward to seeing it in action.”
Christine intervened smoothly. “That would be lovely. The children will be delighted.” She kissed Beatrice’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, dear.”
Eleanor hugged Beatrice one more time, then—to Leo’s surprise—threw her arms around his waist as well. “You too, Your Grace. Take care of our Bea.”
The simple affection in the gesture hit him unexpectedly hard.
“I will,” he said, resting a hand on her small head. “You have my word.”
After the Ironstones departed, Leo found himself cornered by Lord Haverford and several other gentlemen, all eager to discuss parliamentary matters he had been studiously avoiding. Beatrice drifted toward Lady Jersey’s circle, and Leo felt her absence like a physical ache.
“You’re distracted tonight, Stagmore,” Lord Haverford observed. “Usually, you’re far more engaged in these discussions.”
Leo forced his attention back to him, managing a small smile. “Forgive me. My mind wandered.”
“Toward your Duchess, I noticed.” The older man smiled knowingly. “Can’t say I blame you. A beautiful woman and a good match—rare to find both.”
“Indeed.”
“My own wife had me similarly besotted when we first married.” Lord Haverford’s expression turned nostalgic. “Still does, truth be told, though we’ve been married for thirty years. A good marriage is the foundation of everything else, Stagmore. Remember that.”
The words settled in Leo’s chest. The conversation meandered through crop yields and trade negotiations, but his focus remained fractured.
Every few minutes, his gaze would seek Beatrice across the room.
Each time, she seemed to sense it, looking up to meet his eyes with a small, private smile that made his pulse quicken.
“For God’s sake, man,” Adrian muttered when he finally pulled Leo from the discussion. “You’re making the rest of us look bad. At least try to pretend you’re not completely besotted.”
“Maybe you should find a woman to be besotted by?”
Adrian blinked. “Wow. I cannot believe you are the same man who once told me sentiment was for fools.”
“In the flesh,” Leo replied, unrepentant.
“What a cad,” Adrian said, but he had a giant smile on his face.
Leo caught Beatrice’s eye across the room and saw when she excused herself.
She reached them, slightly breathless, her cheeks flushed. “Lady Willowthorn just told me the most scandalous story about—” She stopped, registering Adrian’s presence. “Oh. Lord Tillfield, I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Always where there’s entertainment to be had, Your Grace.” Adrian bowed with theatrical flair. “And speaking of entertainment, I’m going to make myself scarce. You two are radiating an alarming amount of domestic bliss.”
He melted into the crowd, leaving them alone.
“What was that about?” Beatrice asked.
“That was simply Adrian being Adrian.” Leo offered his arm. “Do you want to leave? We’ve made our appearance.”
“Eager to escape?”
“Eager to have you to myself,” he corrected.
Her breath caught. “That’s very direct, Your Grace.”
“I’m done with pretense, remember?” He led her toward the exit, nodding to acquaintances but not stopping. “Besides, I have plans for you.”
“Plans?”
“Mmm. They involve significantly fewer clothes than you’re currently wearing.”
“Leo!” She glanced around, scandalized, but her eyes gleamed with interest. “Someone might hear.”
“Let them.” They reached the entrance and collected their things with efficient haste. “I’m tired of performing for them. Tonight, I want you all to myself.”
The carriage ride home seemed interminable. Beatrice sat across from him, the proper distance between them, but her gaze never wavered from his face. Heat simmered in the tight space, building with each passing second.
“Tell me about your plans,” she said finally, her voice slightly hoarse.
Leo leaned forward, closing the distance until he could feel her breath against his lips. “I plan to remove this gown. Very slowly.”
“And then?”
“And then I plan to kiss every inch of skin I uncover.” His hand found her knee through layers of silk. “Starting here.”
She shivered. “We’re still in the carriage.”
“I’m aware.” His palm slid higher. “Does that bother you?”
“The driver—”
“Can’t see us. Can’t hear us.” He brushed his thumb across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “It’s just us, Beatrice. Like on the terrace. No performance. No intrusions.”
Her hand covered his, stilling his movement. For a moment, he thought she would push him away. But then she guided his hand higher, her eyes never leaving his.
“Then why are you still talking?” she whispered.
The carriage couldn’t reach their townhouse fast enough. They tumbled inside, hands already reaching, mouths seeking. Peters materialized to take their cloaks but wisely didn’t comment on their disheveled state.
“My chambers or yours?” Leo asked against her neck.
“Yours. It’s closer.”
They made it halfway up the stairs before he lost patience, pressing her against the wall to kiss her properly. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, soft sounds escaping that drove him mad with want.
“Bed,” she gasped when they finally broke apart. “Leo, please—”
“Patience, little minx.” But his own restraint was fraying.
He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way, shouldering through his chamber door with single-minded determination.
Moonlight streamed through the windows, silvering the bed, the furniture, her skin as he began removing her clothes with the promised slowness. Each layer revealed more of her, and he worshiped every inch with his hands, his mouth, his entire being.
“You’re staring again,” she breathed as he paused, drinking in the sight of her.
“Can’t help it.” His voice came out rough. “You’re—”
The words stuck in his throat, the sheer magnitude of her existence something he couldn’t quite quantify. He didn’t even have it in him to try to quantify it at all. She was so much more than…
“What?” She reached for him, pulling him down to her. “Tell me.”
But he couldn’t. There really were no words. Of course, he could try, but every word would simply fall short.
So, he decided to show her instead, with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word against her skin. He showed her exactly how thoroughly she had conquered him, this woman who had seen past his defenses to the man beneath. This woman who had made him believe in warmth again.
“Ah, Leo… more,” she moaned into his mouth, and he lost all that was left of his restraint.
“If your goal was to make me go crazy,” he grunted, tugging at her undergarments, “then consider it accomplished. But know there will be no sleep for you tonight.”
She shuddered against him, a smile lifting the corners of her lips. “Kiss me, Leo,” she whispered against his lips, her fingers threading through his hair.
The weight of his body pressed her deliciously into the mattress, the silk sheets cool against her heated skin.
Leo obliged, capturing her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless.
Outside, London’s night symphony played on. Distant carriages, the occasional shout, the constant hum of a city that never truly slept.
But here in their sanctuary, only their breathing mattered.