Page 65 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

My fingers tremble as I gather books to me, taking them off of their shelves and placing them on the floor. I’m not even sure what it is I’m doing, but somehow, arranging them into these small piles feels better. It looks right, feels right. Just seeing them in this new order brings comfort to my soul.

CHAPTER 31

Joseph

I sit there in the small tavern, frowning down at the papers in front of me. Something just still isn’t adding up. After last night, I was sure I’d find something either condemning her or exonerating her. But right now, there’s neither.

The young beta shuffles on his feet as he looks around at the other patrons, no doubt nervous about being exposed. Handing him some coin, I wave him away. However, just as he reaches the door, I stand and walk after him.

“And this is everything? You’re not leaving anything out?”

“No, Your Grace.”

Reaching into my pocket, I grab some pounds and hold them out for him. “I have another request.” Just as he goes to grab the money, I yank it away, keeping it just out of reach. “You’ll receive a sum now and double after. I want you to follow Lord Middlehey. I want a comprehensive report on where he goes and whom he sees. Leave no detail out.”

Nodding, the young spy grabs the money and runs, leaving me there to shuffle through the papers. At least one thing is clear, there were never any debts that I can see at the modiste or any other shop a lady might frequent. It could be that Middlehey covered everything, leaving him as the one in arrears, but that can’t be proven just yet.

My stomach clenches as I watch the beta disappear into the London crowd. I hope I’m wrong about all of this. I hope that somehow there’s been a misunderstanding. And yet, my gut tells me there’s something even more nefarious than even I’m aware of.

Turning, I go to get another drink. However, one of my servants races over, his face flushed. Concern grips me as I take in his stench of uneasiness. “What is the matter?”

“It’s the duchess.”

“My mother?”

“No, Your Grace. Your wife.” Without waiting for him to explain, I storm over to where my horse is stabled and jump on.

I leave my servant in the dust as I race home, my heart in my throat. We just came to the point where we could start mending things. What on earth could have happened? Based on the urgency of the beta, it’s not something as mundane as my wife kicking up a fuss. This feels more like she’s in trouble.

I barely hop off my horse before I race up the steps. Flinging the door open before the butler can move to do it, all I need is one look at his worried expression. It cuts me to the quick, and once more apprehension claws at my insides.

“Where is she?”

“The library.” Turning, I cut him off as I make my way to the room in question. “But, Your Grace-” Lifting my hand to shut him up, I race across the glossy floors, not caring one bit about the mud I drag through my home.

My mother flits down the stairs, her lips set in a thin line. Blocking my way, she pulls me off to the side, glancing at the servants. Why is no one telling me anything?

“Is she hurt?” I bark out. “That’s all I need to know.”

“Not in the slightest. They’re just overreacting.”

“Yes, but something is clearly the matter.”

“She’s going into heat, and I’m afraid her manner of nesting is worrying the staff. I, for one, find it adorable, even if it's a bit eccentric. I suggest you go in with caution. Perhaps ladened with something soft for you to lie in? I’ll manage the household and keep onlookers from sneaking in.”

Relief floods my body fast and hard, to the point that my knees almost buckle. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I certainly didn’t expect that. Nesting in the library? What type of omega does that?

And then it hits me. My little bluestocking is just the type that would want to surround herself with the comfort of books. My lips twitch in a smile as I turn from where she’s holed up and head to my bedroom to gather up some linens. I knew she was close, but I had no idea she was that close.

Again, a flare of anger shoots through me at the thought of her alone in the London streets at night. Madame Douler certainly has my gratitude for keeping my omega safe. She could have thrust her back out into the cold, and yet, she brought her safely inside for me to deal with.

Linens bundled in my arms, I bound down the stairs two at a time, hurrying toward the door. Already my cock pulses behind my breeches as my body primes itself for me to take my mate. My valet and butler flank the entrance, their stance rigid. No doubt they smell her.

Hell, now that I know she’s okay, there’s no mistaking the scent of her heat as it wafts through the door. Though they are betas, they are far from immune. The possessive need to sink my teeth into Teresa, claiming her for my own beats at my skull, making my gums ache.

Once she’s bound to me, her scent won’t be nearly as alluring to others, and I won’t have to worry about her being snatched up by someone that can’t control themselves. At my nod, they open the door, allowing the potent scent to slam into me.

The desire to take her down, to rut her until her belly is swollen with my seed, eats at me, sending lust-fueled need down my spine and into my balls. However, all of that stops short when I look at the chaotic scene in front of me. No longer are my books lined up on the shelves in an orderly fashion.