Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

“Ah.” Leopold had muttered something about them yesterday, but Tobias had been distracted by a wayward pin in his knee and hadn’t remembered to ask for further particulars. “In what way are the journals difficult?”

“To start, they are not written in the King’s English, they jump from place to place, as if they were pieced together long after the event.” She rubbed her brow. “Quite honestly, I fear this may all be a waste of time and lead to nothing useful.”

“May I see what you are looking at?”

She placed a small scrap of parchment between the pages and held out the book. The heavy, leather bound tome’s cover gave nothing away as to the contents.

“Do you have any inkling as to what the journal might be about?” he asked.

“At a guess, it’s about a member of the Randall family or someone else entirely. Just when I think I have the answer there is something that does not ring true.” She sat back in her chair, but she still had a rod of steel holding her to a stiff posture. Did she never unbend?

“About us? What on earth would he be writing about our family for?”

“A good question. The duke kept a detailed journal of your brother’s affairs. When he traveled, what goods, silks and such, he sent to the abbey as part of their bargain.”

“Bargain?”

Her brow creased again. “Did your brother not mention the duke’s blackmail? I suppose it may not be a subject he cares to dwell on. You would need to ask him for the exact particulars.” She sighed and tapped the book on his knee. “The persons referenced in the other journals are not easily identified. Have you done anything particularly noteworthy in your life Mr. Randall that may assist me in determining if one exists about your life?”

“Sailed the world, drank too much, and climbed into women’s bedchamber windows. The usual thing a young man likes to do as often as he can arrange it,” he said without thinking his response through properly.

Lady Venables sucked in a sharp breath, and when he didn’t say anything else, she let it out slowly again. Was that all it took to put the wind up her sails?

She faced him. “I had been led to believe that your brother had suggested you moderate your comments when in the presence of ladies. I see his instructions didn’t take.”

Tobias sat back, crossed one leg over the other and sat the book against his upraised knee. “Oh, I listened. I will, however, choose exactly when I need to be a gentleman,” he met her gaze, “and when gentlemanly behavior would prevent me from acquiring my heart’s desire.”

It was tempting to try to loosen her up. She was much too pretty for the sour expression gracing her features now.

She turned away, back stretching further, as straight as an arrow. Rigid to the core. “I doubt your heart will be involved, pirate,” she said.

Tobias chuckled softly so Leopold wouldn’t notice. “No disrespect intended. I was not referring to a wish to revisit your bedchamber, but I was actually referring to honest conversation rather than the banal fripperies Leopold insists are proper for when conversing with unmarried ladies. How the devil can conversations about flowers be in any way a manly topic?”

She sniffed. “A man should learn to converse on subjects the ladies of his acquaintance hold an interest in. Our society would suffer without adherence to the proper forms of etiquette.”

The pompous statement forced a groan from his lips. “Do you honestly care what I think of that flower arrangement over there?”

A small smile crossed her lips and disappeared just as quickly. “Well, maybe not that particular vase of flowers. I didn’t do the arranging so I have nothing to gain from any flattery on the subject.”

Wretched wench. She’d been playing with flowers earlier. He scanned the chamber for another vase. “Is that one yours, then?”

Her head nodded a fraction.

Tobias pursed his lips as he assessed them. “They’ll outlive the other ones by a day at least, maybe two.”

Her brow rose. “You know a little of flowers? How extraordinary.”

Tobias smiled. “My mother loved flowers. I’ve been sent to pick many a bunch in my youth. Your flair for arranging is as good as hers.”

Lady Venables pressed her lips together until the edges paled. After a pause, she relaxed again. “Was that your very first attempt at a compliment?”

“Second.”

She nodded. “You might want to practice a bit more before the ball tomorrow night. Comparing a woman favorably to your mother, while kindly said, may lead to a premature expectation of romantic interest. Mercy is determined to introduce you to her acquaintances and quite a number are unwed.”

“Please don’t remind me. It is all she has spoken of in days.”

Lady Venables spine sagged slightly before she sat up straight again and laid her hands flat on her knees. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure you will survive the event. Just try not to embarrass her by saying the first thing that crosses your mind. Are you even going to look at the journal? If not, I should like to return to reading.”