Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

She twirled about and swept out of the room as if the devil chased her.

Frustrating woman! How the devil had he gotten stuck living in close quarters with a lady of her temperament? She’d drive him mad or to drink. If it wasn’t too early in the day, as judged by Leopold’s repeated warnings about imbibing before noon, Tobias would already have a glass in hand.

Life in Romsey was turning out to be a disappointing venture all round. Rules, rules, and more rules. He could not smoke in the house, maids were off-limits, as was gambling with Murphy, Leopold’s new assistant, and seducing proper women like Lady Venables. Not an ounce of adventure to be found inside Romsey Abbey. This acting the gentleman business was no easy lark.

He considered the shelves before him. Trust the duke to have been up to his neck in muck and scandal. He plucked a thin journal from the shelf, and then tucked it under his arm. Maybe he should peruse the duke’s papers and help find his missing siblings. It would give him something useful to do while he waited to find his heiress.

He strolled out the doorway and closed the duke’s sanctuary. By the time he turned around, Lady Venables had resumed her study of her journal, sitting stiffly in her previous place. Tobias hated being ignored. Their conversation had been the only bright point of his day. So, knowing full well that it wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do, Tobias stretched out on the opposite empty lounge, propped the book up on his chest and set one highly polished boot heel on the tip of the other to make himself comfortable to read.

Hopefully, something in the book would capture his interest before he did something rash. Seducing the countess to smile, or even engaging in something more scandalous, was terribly tempting.

Five

Good lord Tobias Randall had the habits of a cat. Blythe’s gaze was drawn to him repeatedly as he shifted restlessly on the lounge, flicking pages of the book he’d brought with him, and then rearranging his limbs until he was comfortable again. The man’s behavior was beyond belief. She was dreading the outing to Lady Dunwoody’s soiree.

She’d do her best to shield her friends from Tobias Randall’s blunt conversation if she could, but there was a great chance that he would embarrass them if he continued to talk so boldly. He hadn’t altered enough to be considered a gentleman. It was clear his brother’s lessons hadn’t taken.

Mr. Randall laid the book down on his chest. Their eyes met and warning bells rang through her mind before she wrenched her gaze away. Damn him. He always seemed to know just when she was looking at him. She kept her face free of expression, and then bowed her head to the frustrating page before her.

The problem was she couldn’t seem to focus on the journal easily today. Why couldn’t the former Duke of Romsey have been a straight-forward man? Must everything be a riddle to solve? He could have at least given clearer clues as to where Oliver and Rosemary Randall had been taken. But no, he had to act like he was a grand spymaster. Everything in code, everything jumbled.

Blythe closed the book and pinched the bridge of her nose. Confounded headache. She didn’t need one today.

He rose from his spot, and passed by her left shoulder on his way to the drawing room door. Thank heavens he was going to take himself away. With him gone, she might have a chance to relax the way she used to. She might even be able to put her feet up on the footstool until her headache passed.

“A letter has arrived for you, Lady Venables.”

Blythe jumped out of her skin, startled by Wilcox’s sudden presence at her side. She hadn’t realized he’d come into the room and she hurried to close the journal to prevent him reading the contents. She took the note and waited until he exited the room.

Once he was gone, she flipped the letter over. Venables seal. What could her stepson possibly want with her now?”

She broke open the note and scanned it. The cold hand of dread washed over her skin. Venables had heard she’d abandoned Walden Hall for the delights, as he put it, of Romsey Abbey. He insisted that she honor their agreement and return home, or he would consider their arrangement invalid. Blythe bit her lip. He was within his rights to expel her from Walden Hall because there was little provision made in her late husband’s will. Her stepson was not a gentleman in the true sense of the word. He gave her no choice but to leave Romsey Abbey.

She glanced at her sister. Mercy’s brow creased into a frown and she left Leopold to come to her side.

Rather than explain, Blythe handed her the note.

Her sister read it quickly. “Why that horrible man. How could he?”

Blythe folded the note and stuffed it into her pocket. “He has every right and you know it. We’ve been over this many times.”

“Still, I had hopes for him being a little more like his father.”

Blythe smiled tightly. “As I had.”

Mercy covered her hands and squeezed. “Remember your promise to remain here, sister. If needs be, I’ll speak to Venables and if he will not heed my suggestions I will make sure everyone in the district learns of his tight fisted ways and broken promises. His father was well known for his generosity. He’d turn in his grave over these events.”

“Don’t. I can stay a few days and then I must return to Walden Hall. I cannot remain with you forever and you know it.”

“I don’t see why not. Lady Dunwoody has a complete stranger residing with her at her country estate and no one thinks twice about Mrs. Raglan. They will hardly bat an eye if I house a family member under my roof. Don’t argue with me.”

As Mercy rejoined Leopold across the room, Blythe shook her head. She couldn’t remain with her sister indefinitely.

“A drink, B?” Tobias muttered softly. “You look like you could use one.”

Blythe glanced at the hand hovering beside her face, holding a glass of sherry. The cut on his calloused thumb had healed to a red line, but nothing

had softened his hands from the evidence of the hard life he’d endured before he returned to Romsey Abbey. She took the glass. Her hardships were nothing to what he must have suffered. She would survive this setback. “Thank you.”