Page 81 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

But did he have to lean so close when Marina spoke? Did his hand need to gesticulate so expressively, occasionally brushing near Marina’s wineglass? Marina didn’t have to smile so warmly at his rather commonplace comments on art and literature, did she?

By the time the main course arrived, Leo had endured enough. Taking advantage of a lull in conversation as new dishes were served, he addressed a comment across the table.

“I understand you have developed an interest in early manuscripts, Durching,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the general conversation. “A rather recent enthusiasm, is it not?”

Durching looked momentarily startled at being directly addressed by the Duke. “Indeed, Your Grace, but I’ve always appreciated fine literature.”

“Of course,” Leo replied smoothly. “And what do you make of the Morgan collection? I found their Byzantine examples illuminating regarding the evolution of religious iconography during the early medieval period.”

It was a deliberate challenge. Leo had studied such manuscripts during his travels in Europe, and he doubted Durching’s knowledge extended beyond whatever fashionable opinions were currently circulating in London’s literary salons.

The Viscount hesitated which confirmed Leo’s suspicions. “I haven’t had the chance to examine those specific examples though I am sure they are fascinating.”

“Quite fascinating,” Leo agreed, unable to resist pressing his advantage. “Using gold leaf techniques combined with western European stylistic influences creates a unique artistic dialogue that reflects the political complexities of the period.”

Marina’s gaze met his across the table, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her eyes. She recognized his strategy of intellectual one-upmanship.

“Her Grace and I were just talking about how art makes us feel, no matter where we see it,” Durching said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “From illuminated manuscripts to modern novels, the fundamental human desire for narrative remains consistent.”

“A rather simplistic observation,” Leo couldn’t help remarking. “Though I suppose there is something to be said for broad generalizations.”

A slight frown creased Marina’s brow at his dismissive tone. Before she could speak, however, Durching was drawn into conversation by the lady to his left, momentarily distracting him from Marina.

Leo seized the opportunity. Beneath the table, concealed by the long damask cloth, he stretched out his leg until his foot foundMarina’s. Slowly, deliberately, he ran the side of his boot along her slipper and up the silk of her stocking.

Marina’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze flying to his across the table. Leo maintained his expression as though he were merely considering the merits of the roast pheasant before him. Under the table, his foot continued its upward journey until it reached her knee.

A flush spread across Marina’s cheeks as she hastily reached for her water glass. Leo watched with satisfaction as she took a sip, her hand trembling slightly.

When her eyes met his again, they held shock, indignation, and unmistakable awareness.

Emboldened, Leo shifted in his chair, allowing his leg to press more firmly against hers. Marina’s breath caught visibly though she maintained her composure as she set down her glass.

The flash of heat in her eyes told him she was affected by his touch, despite her outward calm.

Taking advantage of the general conversation around them, Leo slid his foot higher, his eyes never leaving Marina’s face as he applied gentle pressure against her inner thigh.

The sharp intake of breath, the deepening color in her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips all confirmed the effect of his bold caress.

“Are you feeling warm, Duchess?” Alice asked. “You have gone quite pink.”

“Just the wine, I believe,” Marina replied, her voice admirably steady despite the circumstances. “It’s excellent this evening.”

“Indeed, it is,” Leo agreed, increasing the pressure of his touch. “A most stimulating vintage.”

Marina’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at his double entendre. He expected her to shift away, to deny him access, but to his surprise and delight, she instead adjusted her position to allow him better access. The silent acquiescence sent a surge of heat through his body.

Just as Leo moved his foot to the juncture of her thighs, preparing to apply more intimate pressure, Durching turned back to Marina.

“Your opinion on the matter, Duchess?” he asked, apparently continuing some earlier thread of conversation. “Is literature defined by scholarly recognition or popular appeal?”

Marina visibly struggled to focus as Leo maintained his hidden caress. “I believe true literature speaks to the human condition, regardless of critical reception,” she managed, her voice slightly breathless. “Some of the most enduring works were initially dismissed by scholars.”

Leo increased the pressure of his touch, silently demanding her full attention even as Durching continued to engage her in conversation. Her thighs tensed beneath his caress, but she didn’t pull away, the slight tremor in her hand as she reached for her wine the only outward sign of her distraction.

“A democratic view,” Durching replied, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Though I must say, I find those anonymous stories everyone’s reading hardly qualify as literature, despite their popularity. Mere titillation without substance.”

The dismissive comment broke through the haze of desire that had been building between them. Marina stiffened, her expression cooling as she withdrew from Leo’s touch beneath the table.

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