Page 28 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“Good evening, Lady Asquith.”

The door closed softly behind him, leaving Marina alone in the moonlit library, her lips still tingling from his kiss and her mind in turmoil.

“You seem distracted this morning,” Caroline observed as they strolled through the park the following day. “I haven’t seen you this pensive since your husband’s funeral.”

Marina sighed, adjusting her parasol to shield her eyes from the bright morning sun. She hadn’t slept well, her dreams haunted by hazel eyes and demanding lips. “I’m fine, just tired. The ball ended rather late.”

Caroline cast her a skeptical glance. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your mysterious disappearance halfway through the evening? Harold was concerned when he couldn’t find you for the quadrille.”

“I needed some air,” Marina replied automatically. “The ballroom was stifling.”

“Hmm.” Caroline’s expression made it clear she wasn’t convinced. “And did you find this ‘air’ in the company of a certain duke, perhaps?”

Heat crawled up Marina’s neck. “Caroline!”

“Oh, come now. I saw the way you looked at each other during that waltz.” Her friend’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Like you were the only two people in the room.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Marina looked away, unable to meet her friend’s knowing gaze. “He was merely… warning me again about the stories.”

“With his eyes? How innovative of him.” Caroline laughed, linking her arm through Marina’s. “You can deny it all you wish, but something has changed between you two.”

Marina couldn’t argue with that. Something had indeed changed. The kiss they’d shared had transformed the antagonism between them into something far more dangerous. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the heat of his mouth against hers, the firm pressure of his body pinning her to the bookshelf.

“Even if it has,” she said quietly, “it doesn’t matter. I can’t stop writing the stories, Caroline. They’re my only source of income.”

“Are they?” Caroline’s voice softened. “Or have they become something more? A way to experience the passion you write about, perhaps?”

Marina faltered in her step. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Caroline squeezed her arm gently. “You’ve never spoken much about your marriage to Henry, but I gathered it was… less than fulfilling.”

Marina’s throat tightened. Less than fulfilling hardly began to describe the cold emptiness of her marriage bed. Henry had visited her chambers infrequently, and when he did, it was with clinical efficiency and little regard for her pleasure. She’d come to believe that the passionate encounters she read about in novels were mere fantasy—until Leo’s kiss had proven otherwise.

“The Duke is arrogant, demanding, and entirely too used to getting his way,” Marina said, trying to convince herself as much as Caroline. “Besides, he sees me as nothing more than an obstacle to be overcome.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s true,” Caroline mused. “The way he looked at you last night… that was not the gaze of a man viewing an obstacle.”

Before Marina could respond, a familiar carriage pulled alongside them. The Blackmere crest gleamed on the door, causing Marina’s heart to stumble in her chest.

“Lady Clarkshire.” Leo greeted Caroline with a polite nod as he stepped down from the carriage. “Lady Asquith.” His eyes lingered on Marina, his expression unreadable. “May I join you for a moment? I wish to discuss a matter with Lady Asquith.”

Caroline’s eyes danced between them. “Of course, Your Grace. I just remembered an errand I must run. Marina, shall I meet you back here in half an hour?”

Before Marina could protest, Caroline was already walking away, throwing a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

“Traitor,” Marina muttered under her breath.

“Your friend seems eager to leave us alone.” Leo offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Marina hesitated then placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. They walked in silence for several minutes, the morning bustle of the park a stark contrast to the tension between them.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere more private,” he suggested, nodding toward a stone bench partially hidden by flowering shrubs. “The ton is always eager for gossip, and a duke and widow in earnest conversation would feed their tongues.”

Marina followed him to the sheltered spot, appreciating his consideration for her reputation despite the tension still lingering between them.

“I have been thinking about our conversation last night,” Leo finally said. “About your stories.”

Marina stiffened. “If you have come to demand once again that I stop writing?—”

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