Page 39 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Kenneth’s heart raced, and he struggled to maintain his composure. “I appreciate your offer, but I wouldn’t want to delay your dinner.”
Beatrice’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Very well, Duke. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your… work.”
As she began to walk away, Kenneth couldn’t resist one last innuendo. “Enjoy your meal, Duchess. I hope it is as… fulfilling as mine will be.”
Beatrice glanced over her shoulder at him, her smile widening. “I’m sure it will be, Duke.”
Kenneth watched her go, the sway of her hips tantalizing him even more. The hunger he felt for her was consuming, an ache that had nothing to do with food. He clenched his fists, trying to rein in his desire, knowing that the night ahead would be a struggle to keep his thoughts focused on anything other than his wife.
He turned on his heel and made his way to his study, trying to push aside the image of Beatrice in that stunning dress. His desire for her was a constant, gnawing presence, one that he found increasingly difficult to ignore.
Reaching his study, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. The work he needed to do seemed far less pressing now, overshadowed by the memory of his wife’s beauty. He forced himself to focus, knowing that he couldn’t afford to be distracted by his desires.
Still, as he settled at his desk, the image of Beatrice in the low-cut gown lingered in his mind, a tantalizing reminder of the woman he had married. He could feel the heat rising within him, his frustration growing with each passing moment. She had teased him, tempted him with her words and her presence, and now, all he could think about was her.
A slow, determined smile curled his lips.
If she wanted to play this game, he would be more than happy to oblige. She needed to understand that tempting him came with consequences.
He would teach her a lesson about playing with fire.
Chapter Thirteen
“Kenneth, it’s been far too long since I last visited Dunford,” Lady Bernmere began, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“You wouldn’t believe the latest scandal in the ton. Lady Fitzwilliam’s pug ran off with Viscount Hartley’s spaniel. Quite the uproar at the last garden party, I assure you.”
Kenneth chuckled politely though he found little amusement in the frivolous gossip. “Indeed, Aunt Marjorie, that does sound rather eventful.”
“Oh, and did you hear about Lord Sinclair’s new valet? Quite the dashing young man, and it seems Lady Sinclair has taken an inappropriate interest in him. The poor valet is practically besieged by her advances,” Lady Bernmere continued, her laughter echoing through the room.
Kenneth managed a forced smile. “How… scandalous.”
Lady Bernmere leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And you wouldn’t believe what Lady Hemmingway wore to the last ball. A gown so gaudy, it looked like a peacock exploded on her. The poor dear thought it was the height of fashion.”
Kenneth tried to keep his irritation in check. His mind kept wandering to Beatrice. Where could she be? He was certain he had mentioned his aunt’s visit to her.
“Ah, but there is one piece of news you might find interesting, Kenneth,” Lady Bernmere added, her tone shifting slightly. “The Dowager Duchess has commissioned a new painting from Eric Westback. Quite the coup, wouldn’t you say?”
Kenneth’s interest was piqued though he kept his expression neutral. “Eric Westback, you say? That is indeed interesting.”
Lady Bernmere nodded, a knowing smile on her lips. “I thought you’d appreciate that bit of news. I know how much you value fine art.”
Kenneth nodded though his thoughts were still preoccupied with Beatrice. The conversation continued, filled with more gossip and anecdotes about the ton, but his mind was elsewhere.
The door to the parlor opened, and Mr. Jennings entered, standing at attention. Kenneth turned to him with a sharp nod. “Jennings, please have Mrs. Whitfield fetch the Duchess immediately.”
Mr. Jennings bowed and left the room, moving swiftly to find the housekeeper.
Kenneth forced a polite smile as he turned back to his aunt, who was settling herself comfortably on the settee.
What could possibly be keeping Beatrice from her duties as the lady of the castle?
It took several minutes before Beatrice finally appeared in the parlor, a flustered expression on her face. “My deepest apologies for my tardiness. I was engrossed in a most riveting book.”
Kenneth raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What book?”
Beatrice hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for inspiration. Her gaze landed on a history book on the shelf. “Uh…The Conquests of Alexander the Great,” she blurted out.
