Later that night, Evelyn lay beneath the soft weight of the coverlet, eyes wide open, fixed on the moonlit canopy above her bed.
Her body was still. Her mind was anything but.
The images from the Duke's book flickered across her thoughts, vivid and unapologetic. She turned on her side with a quiet sigh, the sheets whispering around her bare skin. There was a heat nestled low in her belly, not entirely unfamiliar but rarely this persistent.
Why does he keep such a book…?
Nathaniel, who barely spoke more than what was necessary. Nathaniel, who regarded her with those unreadable eyes. And yet, on their wedding night, his touch had burned with such raw intent it had left her breathless.
She pressed her thighs together, as though she could smother the memories and the questions.
Had he studied those pages? Had he imagined her in those poses? Or others? Did he fantasize at all, or was that passion she had glimpsed in him nothing more than instinct?
Her cheeks warmed again.
I'm his wife now. I should not be blushing like a girl in a boudoir novel.
She closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to quiet, but even then, she could feel the weight of his hands in memory. The tension in his jaw as he restrained himself. The brief crack in his control.
And suddenly, she longed to crack it wider. To see what he'd hidden from her in every silence.
A soft thud echoed from outside her chamber.
Evelyn sat upright.
Another faint shuffle followed, then a muffled curse.
She slid out of bed and pulled on a thin black robe, cinching it tight before stepping out into the corridor. The candelabra mounted on the wall offered just enough light to reveal a feminine figure crouched near a fallen vase.
"Juliana?" Evelyn called, surprised.
The girl startled, spinning to face her with wide, guilty eyes.
"Oh!" Juliana gasped. "I didn't see you there."
Evelyn raised a brow, taking in her appearance. A riding cloak thrown over a pale blue nightdress, her cheeks flushed, lips still a little too pink. Her hair was a mess of hurried pins and windblown curls, and the shawl draped around her shoulders looked as if it had been thrown on in haste.
"And what," Evelyn asked calmly, "are you doing out of bed at this hour dressed like that?"
Juliana hesitated, just a heartbeat too long.
"I... I went out to the garden," she stammered, clutching the shawl closer. "I couldn't sleep. The air in this manor is suffocating sometimes. I just needed a walk. Some fresh air."
Evelyn crossed her arms, skeptical. "At midnight?"
Juliana gave a nervous laugh. "Well, you've seen my habits. I'm not exactly a conventional lady."
Evelyn tilted her head, searching the younger woman's expression. "You're not cold?"
"A little," Juliana said quickly, taking a step back. "But it helped clear my head. I think I'll sleep better now."
There was a pause, long enough to let the silence ask the questions Evelyn didn't.
Juliana cleared her throat. "Don't tell Rosalind?"
Evelyn's lips twitched. "As long as you don't trample over any more vases on the way."
Juliana chuckled, though her eyes still held tension. "Deal."
Evelyn watched her retreat down the corridor, her steps quick and quiet. When the girl slipped into her room and shut the door, Evelyn was left alone once more in the hall.
She turned slowly and walked back to her own room, but her thoughts no longer lingered on the Duke or the book in the study.
Now, she wondered what or who Juliana had really gone out to see.
The morning sun sliced through the tall windows of the Wycliffe townhouse in London, Nathaniel Wycliffe stood, gloved hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the street below. His valet waited silently nearby, a trunk already packed and strapped to the waiting carriage outside.
His coat was already on, black velvet, embroidered discreetly at the cuffs and his traveling boots were polished to a militant shine. The Duke of Wycliffe was nothing if not composed, even while departing the nest of vipers that was court.
Behind him, Gideon moved with unhurried ease, swirling brandy into a crystal glass before setting it aside. "You truly won't stay another day? You'll miss the Duchess of Featherstone's ball."
"I've had my fill of masks," Nathaniel said, his voice cool.
Gideon grinned and walked over to a small locked chest resting atop the sideboard. "So eager to return to the country. You almost sound homesick, Nathaniel."
The Duke didn't respond.
Gideon chuckled. "Cold as ever. But even you can't return home to a new wife empty-handed. She's young. Impressionable. What will she tell the servants when they ask what her lord brought from London? Dust and the scent of politics?"
Nathaniel glanced at him but didn't speak.
With a grin, Gideon reached into the inside pocket of his coat and drew out a small velvet box, offering it between two fingers. "Indulge me. A gift, well, a suggestion. For her grace."
Nathaniel hesitated, then took the box.
Inside, nestled in deep blue silk, lay a stunning pendant: a deep green emerald, cut in a teardrop shape, suspended from an intricate web of silver filigree and surrounded by tiny, pale sapphires that shimmered like dew. The green stone was rich and glowing, almost alive in the morning light.
"A Colombian emerald," Gideon said, standing now. "Rare. And more importantly, tasteful. It belonged to a Bavarian countess," he added. "She wore it the night she was assassinated by her own lover. Poetic, no?"
Nathaniel studied it without a word. He stepped closer, fingers brushing the edge of the chain. He fingers closed the box with a soft click
"It suits her," he murmured, the briefest warmth slipping into his otherwise impassive tone.
Gideon smirked. "So you do think of her."
The Duke's gaze cut sharp. "Only when necessary."
He didn't look at Gideon as he continued, "I don't make purchases based on sentiment."
Gideon smirked. "That's why I'm giving it to you. Consider it my investment in your household harmony. Or my charity, if that flatters your pride better."
Nathaniel slipped the box into his coat pocket. "You think a stone can cultivate loyalty."
"Not loyalty," Gideon said, walking to the window, "but a carefully chosen token can make a young bride think her husband sees her. That he thinks of her. That's enough to start something."
There was a pause as Nathaniel adjusted the cuffs of his coat.
"You speak too often of things you've never tried."
"Marriage?" Gideon raised a brow. "I know enough to avoid it."
Nathaniel gave him a single nod and turned toward the door.
"I'll be seeing you again soon," Gideon added. "Unless your bride chains you to the hearth."
Nathaniel gave him a glance like frost. "She's not the one who binds."
And with that, he turned, leaving the study with long, unhurried strides. As he reached it, Gideon called after him, more serious now. "You'll be missed at court."
"I doubt that," the Duke replied without turning.
Outside, the horses whinnied softly as the carriage door was opened. As he stepped in, his hand brushed the box in his pocket once more.
He said nothing.
But he kept it.