Page 96 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

The words were automatic, a social facade concealing the underlying chaos. Unable to bear its weight, he carefully placed the watch on the mantelpiece.

Marina took a tentative step towards him. “Leo, if I’ve upset you?—”

“Not at all.” He managed a smile that felt more like a grimace. “It was… thoughtful.”

The hurt in her eyes deepened, joined now by confusion. She wasn’t fooled by his performance but seemed unwilling to challenge it directly. “Dinner will be served soon. Should I ask Henderson to delay it?”

“No need.” Leo moved to his desk, putting physical distance between them. “I’ll join you shortly.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Marina nodded and withdrew, closing the door softly behind her. It was only then that Leo slumped in his chair, his mind racing with troubling comparisons.

Felicity had given him his first Breguet after their third dinner together—an outrageously expensive gift that had both flattered and discomfited him. Later, she had presented him with another when he confronted her about a flirtation with Lord Pendleton. A third had appeared when he’d grown suspicious of her increasing interest in William.

Each timepiece had been exquisite. Each had been strategically timed to disarm his doubts or secure his forgiveness. Each demonstrated her unsettling knack for recognizing and using his vulnerabilities.

And now, Marina echoed this pattern.

Leo’s hand shook as he reached for the brandy decanter on his desk. The logical part of his mind argued that this was mere coincidence, but the wounded part of him, the part that had spent a decade hunting the brother and lover who had betrayed him, whispered darker possibilities.

What if Henderson had been more forthcoming than Marina admitted? What if she had deliberately chosen a gift designed to remind him of Felicity? What if this was the opening move in some new deception?

He downed the brandy in a single swallow, struggling to quiet these thoughts. Marina wasn’t Felicity. Their circumstances were entirely different. She had married him for protection, not social advancement. She had no reason to manipulate him.

Except…

Except that her position had improved dramatically since their marriage. Her writing was flourishing under Pritchard’s honest management. The ton had embraced her as the Duchess of Blackmere, forgetting their previous condemnation of the scandalous widow. She was no longer dependent on him as she had been when Giles threatened her.

What if she had decided she no longer needed his protection? What if, like Felicity, she had found someone else who better suited her desires?

The dinner bell rang, forcing Leo to compose himself. He could not miss the meal without raising questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. Straightening his cravat, he took a deep breath and moved toward the door, leaving the watch on the mantel rather than in his pocket.

Dinner passed in a fog of strained politeness. Leo ate without tasting the food and responded to Marina’s attempts at conversation without fully registering her words. He was aware of her growing concern, reflected in the furrow between her brows and the way she toyed with her food rather than eating it, but he couldn’t breach the sudden chasm that had opened between them.

It was safer this way, he told himself. Distance was protection against the pain of eventual betrayal. He had dropped his guard too quickly, allowed himself to develop feelings that went beyond their practical arrangement. This watch—this echo of Felicity—was a timely reminder of the risks of emotional entanglement.

When Marina suggested retiring to the library after dinner, as had become their custom, Leo found himself making excuses.

“I have correspondence that requires my attention,” he said, avoiding her direct gaze. “Business matters I’ve neglected.”

“Of course.” Marina’s voice was carefully neutral, but her hands twisted in her lap, betraying her distress. “Perhaps tomorrow night, then.”

“Perhaps.” Leo stood, grateful for the formality that allowed him to bow and withdraw without further explanation.

In the days that followed, Leo maintained the same careful distance. He fulfilled his duties as host and husband in public, escorting Marina to social functions with impeccable courtesy. But the easy intimacy they had developed—the shared laughter, the quiet conversations by the fire, the passionate nights in his bed—all were replaced by a polite facade that grew more brittle with each passing day.

He told himself it was necessary. That by withdrawing now, he was sparing them both the greater pain that would come when history inevitably repeated itself. Yet each night, alone in his bed, he ached for her presence, remembering the softness of her skin, the trust in her eyes when she yielded to his touch, the way she spoke his name in moments of passion.

A week after the watch incident, Leo paced his study like a caged animal. Noah had commented on his black mood that afternoon at their club, and even Dorian had sent a note inquiring about his health. Apparently, his attempt to mask his inner turmoil was failing.

The knock that came at his study door was tentative but determined. He knew before it opened that Marina had finally decided to confront him.

“May I speak with you?” she asked, entering when he called permission. The simple gown she wore reminded him of the widow he had first encountered rather than the confident duchess of recent weeks. The regression sent a pang through his chest.

“Of course.” Leo gestured to a chair, but Marina remained standing, her spine straight and her chin lifted in a familiar show of courage.

“Something has changed between us,” she said without preamble. “Since the watch, you’ve been distant. If I’ve offended you somehow, I’d rather know directly than continue this charade of politeness.”

Her bluntness caught him off guard. He’d braced himself for accusations, maybe tears, but not this directness. “I’ve been preoccupied with business matters,” he offered, the excuse sounding hollow even to his own ears.

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