Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

He sucked in a sharp breath, as if startled by her words. Strange. From all her discreet inquiries regarding the Duke of Huntley it seemed perfectly obvious to her that he still mourned his parents. Did he believe he kept his pain hidden?

Whatever he might say, however, was halted as the door was opened and a young maid entered carrying a large tray.

“Ah, tea,” he murmured, waving the maid to place the tray on the table set beside Leonida’s chair.

Completing her task, the pretty maid with a mass of brown curls and big brown eyes dipped a curtsy.

“Is there anything else you need, your Grace?”

The Duke’s gaze never wavered from Leonida. “That will be all, Maggie. Thank you.”

The maid left and closed the door behind her.

“If you will pour, Miss Karkoff?” he requested as the maid scurried from the room.

“Certainly.” She reached to arrange the fine Wedgewood china. “Sugar?”

“Just milk.”

Happy to have something to distract herself from his unwavering gaze, Leonida poured the tea and filled two plates with the tiny sandwiches and seedcake.

Unfortunately, he merely set aside the refreshments, continuing to study her as if she were a weed that had dared to stray into his well-tended field.

Sipping her tea, Leonida attempted to appear impervious to his rude stare, allowing her own gaze to travel over the nearby fireplace to the large portrait hung over the mantle.

“Is that a portrait of your parents?”

“Yes, it was done shortly after their marriage.”

She studied the couple, not surprised that the previous Duke was a tall gentleman with dark hair and an air of power visible in the strokes of his handsome face, while the Duchess was a small, slender beauty with the brilliant blue eyes she had blessed on her two sons.

“The Duchess is just as lovely as my mother said she was,” she murmured. “They were dearest friends, you know.”

“So I have heard.”

She sipped her tea, quashing her fierce desire to flee and instead stiffened her backbone. For goodness’ sakes. This was the perfect opportunity to discover the information she needed. Why was she hesitating?

“I am not certain that my mother ever forgave the Duke for stealing away her beloved Mira,” she said, forcing herself to meet that shrewd blue gaze. “Indeed, she confessed her only comfort was writing endless correspondence to the Duchess.”

“She was not alone. As I recall my mother devoted several hours each morning to answering the letters she received.”

“Well, this is a beautiful room for such a task.”

His eyes narrowed. “Actually my mother preferred the private parlor that connected to her bedchamber. It is situated to catch the morning sunlight and she had a perfect view of the lake, which she always loved.”

She silently tucked the information away. She at least now knew she needed to discover a means of searching the Duchess’s private parlor and that it was on the east side of the house.

Enough for now.

“I cannot imagine a room that does not have a lovely view,” she said lightly. “Your parkland is quite magnificent.”

“Somewhat less formal than your Russian gardens, although my mother did insist her rose garden be designed with the memory of the Summer Palace in mind. There are a great number of statues and marble fountains.”

She glanced toward the windows with their view of the deer park. “While you prefer a less tamed landscape?”

He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Nature is a fine enough artist for me.”

“And yet you spend hours taming your fields.”