Engaging the Enemy (The Wild Randalls 1)

The duchess smiled wearily at Leopold and urged him away from the main staircase. “Perhaps we’ll take the servants’ stairs just this once.” She turned and opened a discreet panel halfway along the hall and disappeared. The familiar, dark staircase brought back unpleasant memories for Leopold, but he instinctively caught the duchess’ elbow for the long climb up the stairs. Since she moved in something of a hurry, she didn’t appear to notice his assistance. But as they reached the upper corridor she murmured her thanks before leading him to the old duke’s chambers.

The door swung wide and stale dusty air washed over him. He coughed then hurried across the room to throw open the drapes and a window to fill the chamber with fresher air.

The duchess covered her mouth. “I never dreamed the room would be so bad.”

Leopold’s disgust rose at the state of the apartment. Dust covered every surface in a thick blanket and swirled on the current of air that they had disturbed. “The housekeeper should have attended to the cleaning of this room without being instructed to do so.”

She grimaced but didn’t comment.

Leopold considered the room, wondering where the old duke might have kept his secrets. He wouldn’t want just anybody to stumble upon them. Would the scoundrel want the hiding place in clear sight of his bed or hidden from view?

Leopold checked behind every painting and mirror on the walls, looking for hidden compartments opposite the bed while the duchess checked the drawer contents. Since there could be room to hide paper behind each drawer, Leopold moved to the duchess’ side and worked with her, removing the heavy drawers completely and peering behind them.

“Just think my father-in-law would be spinning in his grave about now. I had my suspicions about his nature, but never knew he was so evil. What did you do to be banished from England?”

His heart had beat too strongly for the old duke’s comfort, or he’d never wanted Leopold to learn he’d fathered the current duke. Both were probably good reasons for the old duke’s actions, but he couldn’t very well confess the latter to the duchess. Leopold shook his head. “It’s an uncomfortable story.”

The duchess sat back on her heels and regarded him. From the light in his eyes, he gathered she was preparing arguments to pry the secret from him. But, until he learned the fate of his siblings, he couldn’t risk telling her the truth about his life. She’d send him away for certain if she found out.

The duchess knocked the dust from her fingers. “Another time, perhaps. When you’ve come to trust me. I should like to right the wrongs done to your family. You are our family as well, now.”

Leopold swallowed hard, feeling the worst sort of cad. Neither of them trusted the other completely yet, and she certainly shouldn’t trust him. Something she said, though, made him uneasy. The duchess and her son were indeed part of his family; family he didn’t want to have and one relationship he could never acknowledge openly. Leopold shrugged off his discomfort and turned back to the task at hand. Despite the kiss, and their possible past, Leopold had best remember that she was still the enemy.

When they had exhausted all obvious possibilities, he moved to the bed. The solid mahogany behemoth, another symbol of the duke’s power, took up most of the space. Determined not to be intimidated, Leopold tossed the mattress, and then crawled into the space beneath to check for hidden compartments. He couldn’t imagine the duke on his hands and knees hiding anything, but it was best to discount all possibilities. He rapped his knuckles against the paneling, searching for oddities in the construction of the piece.

The duchess poked her head under just as he was finishing. “Did you find anything?”

Their eyes met in the shadowed half-light and his heart lurched at her soft smile. “No. Not one blasted thing.”

She reached out her hand to help him up and at the light touch, her skin pinked. “Come, up off the floor with you. You’re covered with dust.”

Although his first instinct was to stand unaided, he allowed her to tug him to his feet. A cobweb of dust hung from her dark hair and he lifted his hand to remove it. The duchess shifted her weight from foot to foot and the urge to draw her close again overpowered him. He dropped his hand away from the temptation.

But the duchess was a dangerously persistent woman. Her hands rose to his coat and she swiped ineffectually at the dust on his shoulders. “It’s getting late,” she whispered, inching closer.

Leopold glanced at the window. Night was closing in. Since the new moon had just passed, he needed to leave now while he could easily see his way back to the Vulture and return early tomorrow, if she was sincere in her wish to allow him to continue. God alone knew if he would get a wink of sleep tonight after kissing her today.

The duchess’ hands settled on his arms. “Will you dine with me?”

Her question surprised him. He’d not expected to be here all day. He’d been waiting for her to give up and declare it hopeless after the first hour. An invitation to dine was not a good idea when she tempted him so badly.

The duchess bit her lip, an enticing sight that stirred him to new levels of pain. Damn it. He should not have come to the abbey even though his need was great. He should have been wise and sent runners to act on his behalf. But he hadn’t imagined then what he suspected now. Despite the loveliness of the duchess and the appearance of her son, there was nothing for him here, no future, nothing but lies and heartbreak.

Thankfully, he had a valid excuse to refuse her invitation. “Unfortunately, I have other plans for dinner this evening that I should not neglect. I may be unforgivably late, as it is. I should not like to disappoint my, he searched for the appropriate word to describe the man he needed to interrogate tonight, friend.”

Eamon Murphy was not exactly his friend, but the term would do for now. When they were young, Eamon had been closer to Oliver, as impossible as that might seem. He had always had a knack of knocking sense into Oliver when he was being insufferably clever with his brilliance.

The duchess drew back, a bright blush on her cheeks. “I’m sure your friend will understand your delay. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Randall. You may return as early as seven. The duke is an early riser, so you need not fear calling at that hours.”

Leopold knew a dismissal when he heard one. He bowed, turned on his heel, and hurried out before the duchess changed her mind about helping him tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

Mercy kicked the pillow clear across the room. How stupid and desperate she must seem to a worldly man like Mr. Randall. Regardless of what he’d said previously, he probably had a string of willing women waiting for his return wherever he stayed at night.

The dove grey pillow halted her furious pacing. She reached down, picked it up, and threw it at the wall. Numbskull! God, she hoped he would not return tomorrow. She couldn’t stand to see Mr. Randall’s satisfied bearing the morning after he’d met with his light-skirt to have his pleasures satisfied for a fee.

Mercy started at a tap on the door. She looked at the pillow, gave it one last kick, and then composed herself to receive her servant. “Come in.”