Page 74 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

When she broke away, he almost followed her down, chasing the taste of her lips. He stared at her, attempting to parse her expression. Then he glanced up at the duchess, who watched them with an indulgent expression.

“It must have been so hard,” Jessamine whispered, “coming back here after everything. Your father, your brother… We haven’t spoken about them, but I see you.”

I see you.

That phrase again.

“Losing my father is the natural way of things and not as much of a blow as you think,” he said, acutely aware of the duke just feet away. “And my brother was a blow, but we were not close. Don’t pity me, Jessamine.”

“I am not pitying you. I am seeing you.” She slipped a hand through his arm and squeezed. “I just never thought about it before. When you first approached me about William, I never considered what you had returned from. All I’m saying is… I’m thinking about it now.”

He patted her hand. “Later,” he told her, and glanced at the duke. “I think I heard the bell. Shall we go in for dinner?”

Dinner was, to Andrew’s relief, a lighthearted and easy affair. The duke and duchess did not stand on ceremony, instead addressing Jessamine like a sister, even now, and treating him like a long-lost brother.

“When I was at Oxford,” the duke said, “I used to climb up the window to my rooms after a long night out.”

The duchess folded her hands on the table. “I beg you would not tell me what you were doing during those drunken nights, Henry.”

“Nothing you would disapprove of, my dear.” He grinned at her, affection clear in every gesture. “I would never have dared.”

“You didn’t know me then.”

“And yet, my instincts led me true.”

Andrew grinned down at the table. Jessamine nudged him. “What about you?” she demanded. “Where were your instincts when you were dancing with other ladies during your training?”

“Dancing is not what I was afraid of,” the duchess said with emphasis.

Jessamine’s brows both rose, and Andrew let his head sink into his hands. “Thank you, Setton,” he groaned. “For drawing attention to my past behaviors and encouraging my wife to pry into my affairs.”

“Once you marry,” the duke said, “all your affairs become your wife’s business.”

“Even the less palatable ones,” his wife added with an indulgent smile. She rested both hands on her stomach, and although no one had made any explicit reference to her state, Andrew was beginning to suspect he knew the situation. “That is one of the joys of marriage.”

“Joys?” Jessamine queried, raising a brow.

“Learning everything there is to know about your spouse is a particular sort of privilege,” the duchess said with a small smile. “And I would call that a joy. Even if what you learn is not always palatable.”

“Irene,” the duke protested, though he was fighting a smile. “Stop casting such aspersions on my character in front of our guests. The last thing I’d want is for our new brother-in-law to think I’m a reprehensible character with a murky past.”

“I could never think that,” Andrew said. There was an oddly warm feeling in his chest at the sight of this easy conversation and lighthearted bickering. No wonder Jessamine loved her family this much—if she had been exposed to this sort of casual affection on a daily basis, then that would inform the way she thought.

It was as though he had opened a door into her mind. This was part of her lived experience, and it had shaped him. Just as his lived experience had shaped him, now they came at the same problem—William—with different solutions.

“See?” the duchess demanded, pointing at Andrew. “He said he could never think that. Also, Andrew, you must call me Irene. We stand on no ceremony here, you know, and we are family.”

“And in family, there are very few rules.” The duke—Henry, Andrew supposed he ought to call him—winked. “And plenty of insults to go around.”

Jessamine was watching him, a shade of anxiety in her eyes, and he realized that she was scared he might insult her family. Not in the way they had intended, but by insisting on a layer of formality.

The first time they’d met, he had been new to this mantle of authority and responsibility, reeling from Rebecca’s death, and determined to do right by her son, something he felt as though these people were obstructing.

But in reality, they were just trying to do right by Jessamine. And having met her—having met them all—could he blame them for that? This was a tight-knit family the likes of which he had never been a part of. They shared a love and bond that he could never imagine belonging to, and yet which he now desperately wanted to be a part of.

“I have been unfortunate enough to have lost my own family,” Andrew said with a slight cough, nudging Jessamine’s leg with his foot under the table. He needed her to stop gawking at him. “And it would be a privilege to be part of this one. Although I am less familiar with insulting those one loves.”

“Oh, it becomes as natural as breathing,” Irene assured him. “We are a little rambunctious at times, but it’s all in good fun.”