Page 90 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

Finally, Leo lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You are a remarkable woman, Marina Rencourt,” he said, using her married name in a way that felt suddenly significant. “Thank you for listening without judgment.”

“Thank you for trusting me with your past,” she replied, rising to her feet but keeping her hand in his. “It can’t have been easy to talk about it after so long.”

“Strangely, it was easier than I expected,” Leo admitted, standing as well. “Though perhaps that says more about the listener than the story.”

The warmth in his gaze made Marina’s heart flutter. This honest exchange had shifted something between them, creating a deeper connection than physical intimacy alone could forge.

“Would you walk with me in the garden?” Leo asked, still holding her hand. “I find I’m not ready to face the rest of the household yet.”

“Of course,” Marina agreed, squeezing his fingers gently. “For as long as you wish.”

As they strolled through the spring garden, Leo continued his story, filling in details of his years of searching, the near-misses and false leads, the growing obsession that had dominated his life. Marina listened, offering neither judgment nor advice, simply allowing him the space to unburden himself.

By the time they returned to the house, something had changed between them. A trust had been built that went beyond physical desire. As they climbed the steps together, Marina realized that for the first time since their marriage, she was seeing Leo without his careful defenses, without the masks he wore for the world.

CHAPTER 32

“The captain knew, as he watched her walk away across the windswept shore, that some treasures were not meant to be possessed but cherished from afar, like stars that guide a sailor home without ever being touched,” Leo read aloud, his voice softening on the final words. He looked up from the manuscript to find Marina watching him anxiously from her position by the window. “This is extraordinary.”

“You really think so?” Marina moved closer, her fingers twisting together in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. “It’s different from my earlier work.”

Leo set the last page on top of the neat stack on his desk and took a moment to collect his thoughts. The sea captain’s tale had grown into something far more complex than the adventures he’d first read. It was now a story of longing, sacrifice, and the quiet courage required to love without demanding possession.

“It’s brilliant,” he said, rising to meet her. “You’ve given the captain a depth that transforms him from merely heroic to genuinely human. His conflict between duty and desire feels real. You’ve brought him to life in the pages of your story.”

A smile spread across Marina’s face, lighting her eyes in a way that made Leo’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar sensation. “I worried it might be too emotional for readers who expect more action.”

Leo caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. “The passion is still there, but it is expressed differently.” He hesitated then added, “You’ve written his journey with remarkable insight.”

“Perhaps I’ve gained some perspective lately,” Marina replied, her gaze holding his in a way that hinted she saw more than he intended to reveal.

Since their conversation about William and Felicity three days ago, something had changed between them. Marina had offered no judgment, no platitudes about forgiveness or moving forward—just quiet understanding that somehow eased the burden he’d carried for so long.

“I was planning to visit my club this afternoon,” Leo said, still holding her hand. “But I could deliver this to Pritchard on my way if you’d like.”

Marina’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m curious to hear his reaction.” Leo gathered the manuscript pages, straightening them carefully. “Your new direction deserves recognition.”

As he placed the pages into a leather portfolio, Leo wondered at his own eagerness to support Marina’s writing. Before, he had viewed her stories as a threat to his reputation. Now he took genuine pride in her talent, in the growth of her confidence as she grew in her writing.

Marina moved to help him secure the manuscript and her fingers brushed his as they worked. The casual contact sent a now-familiar warmth through him—desire, yes, but also something more complex that Leo wasn’t ready to name.

“Thank you,” she said when they finished. “For reading it. For understanding.”

Leo cupped her cheek, drawn to the vulnerability in her expression. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

He kissed her then, a gentle meeting of lips that quickly deepened as Marina pressed closer. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, her body melting against his with an eagerness that still surprised and delighted him.

When they finally separated, both breathless, Leo reluctantly stepped back. “If I don’t leave now, Pritchard will close for the day, and we’ll have thoroughly scandalized the servants.”

Marina laughed. “We can’t have that. The poor footmen would never recover.”

Leo forced himself to retrieve his hat and gloves, but his body protested the separation. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“I’ll be waiting,” she promised, following him to the door. The intimate knowledge in her smile nearly broke his resolve, but Leo took his leave with his dignity intact, if only barely.

The streets of London bustled with afternoon activity as Leo’s carriage made its way to Pritchard’s establishment near Paternoster Row. The respectable printer had proven an excellent connection for Marina. The man was honest in his business dealings and genuinely appreciative of her talent.

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