Stolen by the Ruthless Duke (Stolen by the Duke #2)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“ Y our visitor has arrived, Your Grace,” a footman announced the following day, interrupting Ophelia’s embroidery.

“His Grace is still out in the village,” she said. “He is meeting with a tenant, but I believe this visitor is for him.”

Is this the Duke’s mistress finally showing her face?

Jealousy curled through her. Was this woman the reason why the Duke did not wish to see Ophelia unless it benefitted him?

The footman hovered. “The Viscount Rowe is here to see you both, Your Grace. He is quite insistent on meeting you first.”

Oh .

Ophelia smoothed down her dress and set down her embroidery, before standing up.

It is not the mistress, then .

“Then show him in.”

The footman bowed and stepped back. Not a moment later, a man with chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes walked in, a bright smile on his face.

“If it is not the Duchess of Stormcliff herself,” he said, looking thoroughly pleased. “I am very glad to have caught you before your foul-tempered husband returns.”

Ophelia mustered an uncertain smile as the footman left them alone. “Forgive me, have we met before?”

“Not at all. Which, I must say, is half the problem.” The Viscount tucked a hand behind his back and bowed deeply. “Frederick Bainbridge, the Viscount Rowe. Or Freddie, if you would prefer. My friends—which I am sure we shall become in no time at all—call me so.”

Ophelia was dazed as she looked at him, not because he was handsome but because of how easily he spoke to her. It had been some time since a man had treated her with such kindness.

“Please sit,” she offered, taking her seat again.

Frederick nodded at her in thanks and sat in the armchair that she had been told the Duke favored.

“I am Maxwell’s old school friend,” the Viscount explained.

Maxwell . This was the first person she’d heard refer to the Duke by his Christian name; she’d never imagine he’d allow someone to be so informal with him.

“It is very nice to meet you,” she said. “I shall send for tea.”

“Lovely. Maxwell has never allowed anybody to share his life, and now that he has, I cannot pass up an opportunity to get to know you better. I admit it is why I timed my visit for when he was still out meeting with a tenant.”

His friendliness was unexpected, and after spending so much time frustrated, worried, or upset, it was easing to be around him.

Ophelia stood up swiftly and requested tea from one of the maids in the room, who scurried away to prepare the refreshments.

“Tea shall be served very soon, Lord Rowe,” she said, smiling as she sat back down.

“Freddie,” he corrected. “Titles do become bothersome at times, do they not?”

She sighed. “Indeed.”

“The stubborn fool has been keeping you locked up here, hasn’t he? He shall have my head when he realizes my little plot.” Freddie laughed, as if the thought amused him.

“Not locked up,” she was quick to correct him. “But… Well…” She paused, wondering how much she should say. But who knew her husband better than his best friend? “I must admit, I am confused. Although His Grace has been generous with what he has provided me, and he has shown a great deal of power, as he paid for, ahem, my previous wedding and ours…”

“Ah, yes, the wedding.” Freddie chuckled.

“What about it?” She could sense there was something brewing, something on the tip of the Viscount’s tongue, as if he wished to stir some questions—or trouble.

She rather liked the sound of rebelling against the Duke. If he had given orders to keep her in the dark, she wanted to find out if the Viscount would disobey them.

“It is just that the circumstances are very peculiar. But Max is honorable to a fault.”

“What circumstances?” she pushed. “He will not speak to me. He can barely say two words to me before we are arguing with each other.”

Her confession spilled out, and she realized just how much she held back. Yet, Freddie made her feel far more comfortable than anyone had in a while, and she had the feeling she could speak more openly.

“His tenants have endless admiration for him, and you are clearly good friends if you have lasted so long in his company, yet he cannot stand the company of the very wife he chose.” She frowned, sighing. “It is all very frustrating, but he simply will not give me some answers.”

“Are you certain he chose you?”

Freddie’s question hung in the air, making Ophelia blink at him. “I am sorry?”

“You have admitted yourself that you do not know the circumstances under which Maxwell came to marry you. He knew who you were before you knew who he was, yes?”

“Yes, but there was something strangely familiar about him.”

The Viscount nodded, toying with the sleeves of his green jacket. It complimented his eyes, bringing out the brown in them.

“I can imagine there was. Know this, Duchess. Maxwell is a man who is admittedly silent when he needs to speak, and he can act without thinking at times. But his honor is a rod that straightens his spine, and he will follow that to the very end of his days.”

“He was honor-bound to marry me?” Ophelia asked. “By what? By who ?”

Freddie opened his mouth to say more—to explain, she hoped.

“Frederick.”

She hadn’t even heard the Duke’s footsteps as he entered the parlor.

His hair was wild and unbound, as if he had ridden hard and fast.

Ophelia glared at him accusingly, but he only stared at his friend.

“Maxwell.” The Viscount tipped his head back and grinned at the Duke. “I was getting acquainted with your wife. Did I not tell you that there are rumors about her beauty? I have seen it for myself, and she is a pretty thing—” He broke off when Maxwell grabbed his elbow.

“Outside,” Maxwell all but growled.

Ophelia could only watch in confusion as he forced Frederick to his feet, anger radiating from him.

He pushed Freddie towards the hallway.

“Your Grace—” she began, rising to her feet.

“Stay out of this,” the Duke snapped, before following Frederick outside and slamming the door shut behind them, leaving her alone.

Were his secrets really so terrible that he felt so threatened by the Viscount’s presence? Who did he not trust? Her or Frederick?

She could hear their voices but not enough to make out their words without creeping too close to the door and risking being caught.

With how fast the Duke could snap, she did not wish to be caught unawares.

Instead, she paced the room, wondering how many secrets her husband had and why she could not know the answer to anything.

“What do you think you are doing?” Maxwell demanded as soon as he led Frederick into the hallway.

He took his friend into his study, further down the hall. He did not trust the Duchess not to listen in on their conversation.

“Oh, do not be such an angry grouch with me,” Frederick muttered. “Save that for the boxing ring. Speaking of which, congratulations on the win the other ni?—”

“ Frederick. ” Maxwell’s voice was a growl as he closed the study door. “What are you doing?”

“I am visiting you and your wife.”

“No, you have purposefully arrived earlier than the scheduled time so you could catch the Duchess alone.”

“Not for nefarious purposes.” Frederick grinned. “Although I know that does not threaten you. But what does, in fact, concern me is that you do not wish Her Grace to know the truth. Why? Would it truly be so bad? The woman is not a fool, Maxwell. She understands very well that there is something amiss here.”

“I know,” Maxwell hissed. “I have told her it is for her own good that she does not know the full story.”

“Why? What is so wrong about her knowing? This is her life, too. Heavens, it was her father who was involved in the first place.”

Maxwell stepped back, sighing. “I know you intend to push me until I snap and tell her, but I do not want that to happen.”

“You are a stubborn bastard, Maxwell.” His friend’s words did not come with a bite but rather exasperation. “You have done this since we were schoolboys. You know what she will think when she learns the truth! Why do you not want that?”

Maxwell glowered at his friend, feeling utterly exposed. “I do not want anyone to view me as the hero,” he bit out.

“So, instead, you are content for your wife to resent you, to live her life in confusion?”

“Telling her the truth will change everything.”

“You have spent too long in this state of constant anger, Max. Is it not time for a change?”

“Change…” Maxwell laughed. “What would I do with a changed life?”

“I do not know, but maybe, for once, you would stop beating yourself up and allow yourself some semblance of happiness with your wife. Otherwise, all you are doing is damning that woman rather than saving her.”

“If I damn her, then at least she will view me correctly,” Maxwell said quietly, angrily.

“And what of your promise? You cared for the man who saved your life. At least honor him. Honor his daughter if you will not view her as a wife.”

“Watch your words, friend .”

“You are causing both of you too much unnecessary misery with your silence and reluctance to acknowledge her. Show her some kindness, Maxwell. Do not be a fool.” Frederick stretched his neck and smoothed the creases in his jacket from Maxwell’s grip. “Now, I believe your wife sent for tea. If you will not join the Duchess and me while I get to know her better, then you may excuse yourself.”

Maxwell gave his friend a withering glare. As a rule, he appreciated that Freddie was the only one who spoke to him freely. The Viscount had known him long before either of them inherited their titles, and he never let him forget it. But this intrusion was too much for a temper already on the brink of flaring.

“I will join you,” Maxwell said through gritted teeth. “If only to see you walk out the door just as quickly as you entered through it.”

Frederick clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcoming, as ever. Now, let us return to your lovely wife.”

Maxwell bit back a growl and walked back into the parlor, finding Ophelia there, her eyes fixed on him. Her curiosity and puzzlement had gone, replaced by a defiant annoyance that spoke to how she felt about his secretiveness.

I shall tell you everything one day, but not yet . Until then, I will be content being the villain in your story, Duchess .