Page 21 of The Duke who Chose her

Within George's study, an amber glow illuminated the book-lined room. George strode over to the corner sideboard, where a silver tray held several crystal decanters filled with aged spirits. He unstoppered the cut-glass bottle, pouring two generous portions into heavy crystal glasses. He handed one to his old friend before taking his own seat in the wingback leather armchair beside the hearth, leaning back with a slow exhale.

Caspian sat in the opposite chair, cradling his glass while watching George carefully. He swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, letting the silence settle over the room before a knowing smile touched his lips. "That is not what I meant."

"If you are referring to the slight adjustments in my daily routine, Caspian, I assure you it is merely the natural consequence of housing a young child," George responded calmly, gesturing with one broad hand as he dismissed his friend's observation. "The nursery requires constant oversight, the estate bailiffs demand clear instructions regarding the tenant stipends, and the household must function with efficiency. I am simply fulfilling the obligations that fall upon the head of this house."

Caspian shook his head slowly, his expression shifting from light teasing to perception as he leaned forward, resting his elbows upon his knees. "You are taking responsibility for him."

George replied firmly as he took on a defensive edge. "Someone must. I cannot leave my nephew in the care of paid hands alone."

Caspian looked at his friend with genuine affection and concern. "You do not need to carry everything alone, George. You are married now. You should share responsibilities."

Share responsibilities? George thought bitterly, staring down into the glowing red depths of his glass. The duchess already carries the emotional weight of this household upon her slender shoulders, yet every time she attempts to step closer to me, I pull back. I am terrified that if I let her share my burdens, she will see the ruin I carry inside.

"The Duchess manages the domestic staff and her social duties with remarkable competence," George stated stiffly as he sought to restore distance to the conversation. "She requires no interference from me in those matters, nor do I intend to burden her with the weight of the estate's complex financial obligations or Parliamentary affairs."

Caspian leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Speaking of Helena... there are still lingering whispers among the ton, George. You know as well as I do how the gossips in Mayfair drawing rooms operate. They are perpetually fascinated by how a young woman of fallen fortune suddenly came to assume the title of Duchess."

George's hand tightened until his knuckles turned stark white, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "She deserves respect."

Caspian raised his free hand in a placating gesture, his tone remaining remarkably smooth and unbothered by George's sudden flash of temper. "I never suggested otherwise."

George leaned forward in his chair, his voice shifting into a dangerous, protective register. "You were about to."

Caspian let out a dry laugh, shaking his head gently as he swirled his drink slowly. "On the contrary. I was about to mention that when she enters the room, you look at her as a man in the desert looks at water. And when she leaves, you gaze at her like you would never see her again."

He sees right through my posturing, George realized. He does not believe a single word I have spoken.

George felt a sudden wave of intense heat rise to his neck, though he fought to remain as impassive and impenetrable as carved marble.

"You are indulging in wild, romantic imaginations, Caspian," George declared, his voice rigid with denial. "My conduct toward the Duchess is governed entirely by social propriety and formal respect. I have no improper intentions toward her, nor shall I ever stray from the strict boundaries we established before our nuptials. I intend to adhere to my rules."

Caspian looked directly into George's eyes, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course."

Rattled by Caspian's skepticism and feeling the agonizing weight of his own conflicting emotions pressing, he ran a hand over his face, letting out a ragged breath.

"And to think I kissed her in a moment of clouded judgment."

Caspian froze instantly. His glass stopped halfway to his mouth, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at George. The teasing atmosphere evaporated quickly, replaced by bewilderment.

"You... you did what?" Caspian gasped, his voice rising in incredulity before he quickly lowered it, casting a quick glance toward the door. His mouth quivered, but he managed to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst forth. "George! You kissed her? You, the man who drafted a ten-page legal agreement outlining every particle of detachment you expected from your marriage?"

George instantly regretted the outburst, his jaw clenching tight as he stood up abruptly and walked over to the dark window. "It was a mistake, Caspian. An unfortunate and temporary lapse in discipline brought on by the hour, the solitude, and a fleeting surge of sentiment. It meant nothing, and I have already taken the necessary steps to ensure that such a lapse never occurs again."

Caspian stood up from his chair as well, setting his glass down with a heavy thud as he stared at his oldest friend in wonder. "It meant nothing? George, you look at that woman as though she holds the very sun in her hands! You watch her every breath, you kiss her because of ‘a fleeting surge of sentiment', and then you stand there telling me you have restored your precious rules? What in Heaven's name do you actually want?"

George turned his back to the window, his chest heaving slightly as he met Caspian's intense gaze, his voice filled with agonizing vulnerability he rarely exposed to another living soul. "I want to keep her safe, Caspian! I want to protect Oliver's legacy, preserve this estate, and ensure that my own cursed disposition does not ruin her life as my father ruined my mother's! Caring for her, or worse, allowing her to fall in love with a man like me, is a risk I cannot afford to take."

Caspian shook his head gently. His long, exasperated sigh belied the slow smile on his face. "You may have cut a swath through the salons of Paris, George... but when it comes to your own heart, you are an absolute fool."

Before George could retort, the study door clicked open and Mr. Gibbs stepped into the room. "Your Graces, Duchess Arabella and Her Grace have returned from their stroll in the gardens and are currently resting in the drawing room."

George straightened immediately, replacing the vulnerability that covered his face with the stoic mask that Helena was used to. "Thank you, Gibbs. We shall join them presently."

As the heavy doors opened, Helena raised her gaze, her expressive green eyes meeting George's across the expanse of the room.

She looks entirely transformed, George thought, his pulse hammering violently against his ribs as he maintained her gaze across the drawing room. What transpired between her and Arabella in that garden?

Chapter Fourteen