Page 76 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“Readers appreciate the emotional depth,” Pritchard replied, his scholarly face brightening with genuine admiration. “Though I confess, many still prefer your earlier works featuring the mysterious duke.”

“The Duke has retired from literary society,” Marina said firmly, drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she prepared to leave. “The sea captain has taken his place.”

The small print shop off Fleet Street was a welcome change from Lupton’s cramped, gloomy place. Leo had introduced her to Mr. Pritchard two weeks earlier, and the difference was clear from the start. Here, her work was respected instead of sneered at, she was paid fairly instead of being exploited, and she was greeted warmly as an author rather than viewed as a scandalous curiosity.

“Your carriage is waiting, Your Grace,” Pritchard said, looking toward the window. “It’s getting late.”

Marina thanked him and stepped outside into the cool evening air. Becoming a duchess had changed her routine; no longer could she slip out alone at night to deliver her manuscripts. Now, Leo’s carriage waited discreetly around the corner, a footman always ready to escort her safely to the carriage.

As she walked, Marina suddenly felt uneasy, a prickling sensation that she was being watched. She glanced behind herself, looking into the shadows between buildings, but saw nothing unusual—just the usual evening crowd of Londoners, shopkeepers closing up, servants rushing home, and gentlemen strolling toward their clubs.

“Everything all right, Your Grace?” Thomas, the footman, asked with concern as she hesitated.

“Yes, Thomas. I thought I heard something, but it’s nothing.” Marina shook off the feeling, reminding herself it was probably just nerves.

Since becoming a duchess, she was aware of being noticed more often. People watched her now because she was the mysterious woman who had married the elusive Duke of Blackmere, not because they suspected her secret occupation.

Still, she scanned the streets as the carriage rolled toward Berkeley Square, unable to shake off completely the feeling of being observed.

It’s just your imagination, she reminded herself.

London was filled with curious people who naturally noticed a ducal carriage.

The unease stayed with her, lingering as she entered the townhouse to find Leo waiting for her in the entry hall.

“You’re later than expected,” he observed, his eyes quickly scanning her face. “Did something delay you?”

Marina handed her cloak to Henderson, trying to appear casual. “Mr. Pritchard was talkative this evening. It seems the sea captain has developed quite a following.”

Leo’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I’m not surprised. Your storytelling is… interesting.”

The heat in his gaze as it traveled over her reminded Marina of exactly how interesting he found her writing—particularly since the Hargrove dinner party last week when he had whispered things that still made her blush to remember.

His expression sobered as they moved toward the drawing room. “You seem unsettled. Did something happen?”

Marina hesitated, unwilling to voice her vague suspicions when she had nothing concrete to report.

“Nothing worth mentioning. It’s been a long day.”

Leo studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced. “Marina, if something troubled you?—”

“Nothing troubles me,” she said and forced a smile. “I am simply tired.”

“I see.” Leo’s tone made it clear he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he offered his arm. “The night is pleasant, and the gardens are lovely in the moonlight. Perhaps some fresh air would be restorative?”

The suggestion surprised her. While their physical relationship had blossomed since that night last week, they rarely spent time together without some practical purpose or social obligation.

A casual stroll through the gardens seemed unexpectedly… romantic.

“That sounds lovely,” she heard herself say, curiosity overcoming her lingering unease.

The townhouse gardens were small by country standards but exquisitely maintained with gravel paths winding between carefully tended flower beds and ornamental shrubs. In the moonlight, the scene took on an ethereal quality, the white roses glowing like pale ghosts against the darker foliage.

They walked in companionable silence for several minutes, Marina gradually relaxing as the scent of night-blooming flowers surrounded them. The high walls of the garden created a sense of privacy, a world apart from the bustling city just beyond.

“You would tell me if you were in any difficulty?” Leo asked suddenly, his voice quiet in the night air. “If something or someone were troubling you?”

Marina glanced up at him, surprised by the protective note in his voice. “Of course. But truly, there is nothing?—”

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