Once they were settled with drinks in hand, Noah leaned back with a smirk. “So, the Duke emerges from his love nest. I’m surprised you could tear yourself away so soon. Your bride is quite captivating.”

Leo took a measured sip of his brandy. “There was no love nest, Blytheton. I had business to attend to.”

“Business,” Noah repeated skeptically. “On the second day of your marriage? What could possibly be more pressing than attending to your lovely duchess?”

“Settling her late husband’s debts,” Leo replied succinctly.

Noah’s expression sobered. “Ah, our friend Giles. I trust you were… persuasive?”

“Sufficiently.”

“Good.” Noah raised his glass in a small salute. “The man’s a viper. Though I must say, it’s unlike you to abandon a beautiful woman to handle such matters personally. Especially when that woman has only been your wife for twenty-four hours.”

There was something in Noah’s tone, a question beneath the teasing, that made Leo uncomfortably aware of his friend’s perceptiveness.

“The modiste is with her today,” he said, deflecting. “I doubt my presence would be welcome during such fittings.”

“Mmm.” Noah’s expression suggested he wasn’t convinced by this explanation. “And does the Duchess know you’re here instead of attending to your own affairs?”

Leo’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around his glass. “I don’t make a habit of accounting for my movements, even to my wife.”

“Of course not.” Noah’s smile was too knowing for comfort. “Though most men might be reluctant to stray from a bride who looks at them the way Marina looked at you during your wedding breakfast.”

“And how was that?” Leo asked, unable to contain his curiosity despite his better judgment.

“It was hard to tell if she was more fascinated or frightened,” Noah said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Much like a mouse wondering if it could befriend the cat.”

Leo scoffed. “Poetic but inaccurate. Our arrangement is practical, nothing more.”

“Alice has already arranged a tea for next week to properly welcome Marina to their ranks. And Gerard mentioned something about a dinner once you’ve had time to settle into married life.”

The easy acceptance of Marina by his closest friends should have pleased Leo. Instead, it added to the unsettled feeling that had haunted him since their wedding. Everyone around them seemed to view their marriage as natural, even inevitable—everyone except the two people actually involved.

“So, what’s she like?” Noah asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Behind closed doors,” Noah clarified, his roguish grin returning. “Is she as passionate as her writing suggests? Does she?—”

“That’s enough, Blytheton,” Leo cut him off sharply.

Noah’s eyebrows rose at his tone. “My, my. Territorial already? That was quick.”

Leo forced his expression to relax into something more casual. “Simply maintaining appropriate discretion about my wife.”

“Your wife,” Noah echoed, a strange smile playing at his lips. “How easily that trips off your tongue for a man who swore he’d never marry.”

“Circumstances change,” Leo replied, draining his glass.

“Indeed, they do.” Noah signaled for another round. “Though I must admit, when I encouraged you to find a distraction from your search for William, I never expected you to choose a wife—and certainly not one who writes scandalous stories for a living.”

“Former occupation,” Leo corrected automatically.

“Ah, so the writing is finished then?” Noah accepted two fresh glasses from the servant. “Pity. I was rather looking forward to the next installment.”

Leo accepted the new brandy with a nod of thanks. “Marina has agreed to focus her talents elsewhere.”

“Generous of her.” Noah’s tone suggested he found this development interesting. “And what will she do with herself now, besides organize your household?”