Page 70 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“And the Duchess?” Dorian pressed. “Is she happy?”

The question struck uncomfortably close to Leo’s own unacknowledged concerns. Was Marina happy? Their physical connection had been undeniable, but she remained guarded in so many ways, keeping parts of herself locked away from him just as he did with her.

“She seems content enough,” he replied carefully. “Though I’m hardly an expert on female happiness.”

“Perhaps you should ask her,” Gerard suggested mildly. “In my experience, wives appreciate being consulted about their own contentment.”

Leo frowned slightly. The idea of directly asking Marina about her happiness felt strangely intimidating, more vulnerable than even the intimacy they had shared at the ball.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said dryly, signaling to a passing servant for another round of drinks. “Now, can we discuss something other than my marriage? I hear Wellington is considering running for parliament.”

Leo’s friends accepted the change of subject though Noah kept shooting knowing looks his way for the rest of their gathering.

As his carriage rolled toward Berkeley Square, Leo found himself eager to see his wife.

Her stories with their passionate characters and vivid encounters revealed parts of Marina she carefully concealed in everyday life. Each story was a window into her inner desires, fantasies, and understanding of passion. Her latest work, clearly inspired by their encounter at the ball, hinted she’d felt their connection just as deeply as he had.

Still, Marina kept her distance, slipping away to her own chambers every night, despite the obvious attraction between them. Leo had respected those boundaries, letting her set the pace, but his patience was wearing thin. He’d glimpsed the woman beneath her carefully composed exterior, and he wanted more.

Tonight, he decided he’d try something different. Instead of chasing after her, he’d let Marina come to him. If Marina truly desired him as her story suggested, perhaps it was time she admitted it and not just on paper but in person.

With that resolution firmly in mind, Leo instructed his coachman to hurry home.

As Leo’s carriage pulled up to his townhouse, he scanned the windows for any sign of Marina. The eagerness he felt to see her was unfamiliar and somewhat disconcerting, but he didn’t bother to suppress it.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Henderson greeted him as he handed off his hat and gloves. “I trust you had a pleasant afternoon.”

“Pleasant enough,” Leo replied, glancing toward the drawing room where Marina often spent her afternoons. “Is the Duchess at home?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Grace. Her Grace departed approximately two hours ago with the Duchess of Irondale.”

Leo felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. “Did she mention where they were going?”

“To Hatchard’s bookshop on Piccadilly, Your Grace. Her Grace mentioned that Her Grace, the Duchess of Irondale, wished to show her some recently arrived volumes from Paris.” Henderson’s face remained impassively professional despite the awkward repetition of titles. “I believe they intended to take a late tea afterward at Gunter’s.”

“I see.” Leo tried to keep his tone neutral though the news was oddly deflating. “Send word when the Duchess returns, would you?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Leo made his way to his study, his earlier anticipation fading into restlessness.

The once-welcoming space now felt confining and strangely empty. He poured a small brandy and sat down at his desk, facing a pile of letters which needed his attention.

Instead, Leo read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a word. His thoughts kept drifting to Marina—what books might she be selecting at Hatchard’s? Was she enjoying Seraphina’s company? Did she speak of him when he wasn’t present?

Marina would return eventually, and when she did, he would be waiting.

What happened after that would depend entirely on her.

CHAPTER 25

“Icannot thank you enough for introducing me to Mr. Hatchard,” Marina said, smiling warmly at Seraphina as their carriage approached Berkeley Square. “His knowledge of French literature is remarkable.”

“He was quite taken with you as well,” Seraphina replied, adjusting the stack of books balanced on her lap. “I’ve never seen him offer anyone access to his private collection before. You must have impressed him with your literary opinions.”

Marina felt a pleasant glow of satisfaction at the compliment.

The afternoon with the Duchess of Irondale had been unexpectedly delightful—hours spent browsing Hatchard’s extensive shelves followed by tea and animated conversation. After a year of being shunned by much of society following Henry’s death, such easy acceptance felt like rain after drought.

---