Page 74 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Kenneth furrowed his brow slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “London? Alone?”
She squared her shoulders, holding his gaze. “I can handle it, Kenneth. I’ve done it before.”
He rose from his chair and rounded the desk to stand before her. His hand reached out, gently cupping her cheek. “I know youcan, Beatrice, but I have some business to attend to in London anyway. I’ll accompany you.”
Beatrice leaned into his touch, a warmth spreading through her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to disrupt your plans.”
Kenneth’s thumb brushed across her cheekbone, his eyes darkening with desire. “You could never disrupt anything, Beatrice. We’ll go together.”
She smiled, turning her head to press a soft kiss to his palm. “All right then.”
Kenneth tilted her chin up, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss. As they parted, he rested his forehead against hers. “You’re mine, Beatrice. Don’t forget that,” he whispered, his breath warm against her lips.
She grinned, her pulse quickening. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Though perhaps I need a bit more convincing?”
Kenneth’s eyes darkened with desire. “Is that so? Well, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer. “How about we start the ‘convincing’ right here on this desk?”
Beatrice gasped. “Kenneth! What would Jennings say if he walked in?”
“He’d say ‘Pardon me, Your Graces’ and quietly back out of the room.” Kenneth chuckled, his lips trailing along her jawline. “Besides, I’m the Duke. I can do as I please in my own study.”
Beatrice’s fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching into his. “Mmm, is that so? And what exactly does the Duke want to do right now?”
Kenneth’s voice lowered to a growl. “Oh, I have a few ideas. All of them involving you, my dear, in various states of undress.”
“My, my,” Beatrice breathed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And here I thought we were discussing a trip to London. How easily distracted you are, husband.”
He smirked, his hands roaming teasingly over her curves. “Can you blame me? With a wife as enticing as you are, it’s a wonder I get any work done at all.”
Beatrice laughed, the sound rich with promise. “Well then, perhaps we should make this trip to London a quick one. After all, we wouldn’t want to neglect your duties here at Dunford.”
“Indeed not,” Kenneth agreed, stealing another kiss. “Though I must warn you, my dear. Even in London, you won’t be safe from my attentions. I plan to thoroughly ‘remind’ you of your place as my Duchess at every opportunity.”
She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both,” he growled, pulling her flush against him. “Definitely both.”
Beatrice’s breath hitched at the contact. “Well then, Duke, I look forward to our trip.”
Kenneth grinned, his eyes alight with desire and amusement. “As do I, my dear. As do I.”
The next day, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of their London townhouse, the bustling city streets a stark contrast to the serene grounds of Dunford Castle. Beatrice stepped out, her mind already racing with the tasks ahead. The two-week deadline loomed over her, a constant reminder of the pressure she was under.
Kenneth, sensing her unease, placed a gentle hand on the small of her back as they entered the house. “You’ll have everything you need here, Beatrice. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything.”
Beatrice managed a tight smile, her fingers clutching her sketchbook. “Thank you, Kenneth. I just hope I can do this commission justice.”
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “You will. I have no doubt.”
Despite his reassurance, Beatrice’s anxiety continued to grow. She knew that maintaining the same quality in her work was crucial, and this commission could either solidify her reputation or shatter it completely.
The next morning, she sought out Anna, her trusted lady’s maid. “Anna, I need your help. We must visit the art shops today to gather supplies.”
Anna, ever loyal, nodded without hesitation. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll ready myself immediately.”
As they navigated the crowded London streets, Beatrice’s mind buzzed with calculations and color schemes. She carefully selected the finest brushes, the most vibrant pigments, and the sturdiest canvases. Each decision carried the weight of her secret identity, the fear of discovery always lurking in the shadows.
Upon their return, Beatrice wasted no time in setting up her workspace. She chose the study with the best natural light, the large windows offering a clear view of the garden below. Anna helped her arrange her supplies, the maid’s quiet efficiency a welcome balm to Beatrice’s frayed nerves.
