Page 42 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

“No doubt she was not important enough to marry,” the second voice said, her tone snide.

Jessamine whirled, but before she could say a thing, Andrew came to stand beside her, his hand grazing her back. This time, she leaned into his strength.

“Excuse me,” he said, perfectly pleasantly. “Forgive my intrusion, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conjecture on my adopted son’s origins. Let me put one thing straight.” His tone hardened like steel, and his eyes turned flat and hard. “He may not be my son by birth, but for all intents and purposes, he is mine, and I will protect him as I would protect any son of mine. His father and I grew up together, and it is my honor to be able to celebrate his life, ended too soon, by adopting his son. If you think that I could not do something like that, I believe it reflects rather more on you than on me. Would you not adopt a child of your relative’s? Would you not make them your own? Why should William grow up as second-best within the only household he has ever known?”

He stepped closer to the little gaggle of gossiping ladies, and if possible, it seemed as though he grew in size and menace.

“I understand these are unusual circumstances, ladies, but I will not let future comments slide. Do I make myself clear?”

The ladies cowered. The leader, a lady in her forties with a beaked nose, raised her chin to lock eyes with him—then glanced away. “Our apologies, Your Grace. We had not wished to offend.”

“My son is not a suitable recipient for your curiosity,” Andrew said. “Take your speculation elsewhere.”

“Yes, Your Grace. We are very sorry.”

Andrew turned away, and Jessamine took his arm, squeezing it in gratitude. He glanced down at her, and his hand covered hers briefly.

The first hurdle had been crossed, and with remarkable ease.

Jessamine had a suspicion the remainder of the day would go a lot more smoothly.

Andrew sipped at the wine in his hand. Jessamine stood a little further away, her sister by her side, and Lady Marwich beside them both. Jessamine laughed, her head thrown back. He wished he could have been by her side, that he could have been the one to make her laugh—and then shook away the thought.

This was precisely why he didn’t need any distractions.

Lady Temperance, one of Jessamine’s friends, sidled up to beside him. “Your Grace,” she said, holding up her glass in a toast. “I think we can safely consider today a success.”

“In some ways,” he said.

“In all ways!” She cast him a sideways glance. “You know, Rebecca would have loved it.”

At the sound of Rebecca’s name, his stomach dropped. Rebecca, William’s true mother. If she’d been here—if he hadn’t failed her—none of this would have been necessary.

Lady Temperance was still looking at him, expecting a response. She seemed like a kind girl, and she had most certainly said this in good faith, presumably thinking this would come as some sort of comfort, not as a condemnation.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

“We were never great friends, but she was exceedingly close with Jessamine.” Lady Temperance looked over to where Nicholas was now approaching Jessamine.

Instead of Andrew, it was Nicholas who made her laugh, her expression lighting up.

Something hot and fierce erupted in his chest, and he squashed it back down. He could not afford ferocity. For tonight, he must be the civilized, polished Duke. For William’s sake.

“Rebecca always knew that Jessamine would look after William,” Lady Temperance went on, and her words were knives in his chest.

Because he should have been the one Rebecca relied on to take care of William.

He was grateful she had Jessamine, of course, grateful that Jessamine would do so much for William’s sake.

Lady Temperance smiled, oblivious to the dark maelstrom in his chest. “I am so relieved you offered for Jessamine,” she confided. “Just think what might have happened to her if you hadn’t. I know she was determined to take William no matter what, but the world would have been so cruel to her if she had.”

“I would not have allowed it,” he said curtly, knowing he sounded cruel, but unable to summon the softness Lady Temperance clearly thought behooved him as a savior to her friend. “William would have been coming with me regardless. The marriage was the only solution I could think of that would allow Jessamine to remain at William’s side. And Jessamine was at first reluctant to receive my suit. Yet,” he added quickly, “as you can see, we deal very well together.”

Lady Temperance looked at him curiously, then looked back at Jessamine, who glanced over to them, her lips still wide in a smile that Andrew had not curated for her. At their perusal, she raised her brows and shrugged. Her smile didn’t falter.

“She does seem happy,” Lady Temperance said musingly. “Happier than I have seen her, to be sure.”

Andrew plucked two glasses of wine from the table and offered one to Lady Temperance. It was unbecoming of him, he knew, to be so eager for scraps of his wife’s past that she had not already shared with him, but he found himself curious about how others viewed her.