Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Tobias spied a crystal decanter across the room and poured himself and Leopold a drink, but his mind returned to the woman locked up next door. Her image flashed before his mind. Prim figure, tightly bound dark hair, pale green eyes wide with fright. “What will happen to Lady Venables now?”

Leopold perched on the edge of the large bed. “I don’t know. You scared Blythe quite badly but, according to Mercy, she hasn’t been herself for a long time. Losing her husband and son at almost the same time took a toll. Let us hope the damage isn’t permanent and that she will recover.”

Tobias swirled his whiskey around in the glass. He knew what they did when a ship—a grand lady of the sea—was destroyed beyond repair by battle, no matter how lovely her lines. They were scuttled and left to rot in some out of the way port where no one cared. A mad countess would fare little better. “If she doesn’t recover?”

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Tobias crossed to the window and flung them wide. Night had fallen over Romsey Abbey and the grounds were bathed in moonlight. He swung the windows wide, feeling the bite of cool night air whip across his chest. He had a pretty vantage point from his chamber. He could see for miles.

In the distance, he spotted the rooftops of his old family home, Harrowdale, just visible through the woods. A pang of longing shot through him. The old house was boarded up, kept exactly as his parents had left it before their deaths, and likely belonged to Leopold now. He’d stayed there since his return, and if Leopold allowed, he thought he’d like to live there. “You never went home.”

“No. I couldn’t face the empty house.”

“It wasn’t empty. I was haunting the place.”

Leopold slapped his hand on his back. “How did you learn to climb so well?”

Tobias glanced at the grounds below. He was exactly the height from the mizzen mast to the deck of the Enid Wren, the American slaver he’d been traded to by the Williamstown’s despicable captain. Back then, he’d scaled the heights willingly to escape the stench of those being transported. Leopold didn’t need to know he’d served aboard a slaver. “Just a skill I picked up during my time at sea.”

Leopold bumped against him. “I’d like to hear more.”

A sound drifted to him on the wind and he looked left and right, but couldn’t discover the source. He thought he heard a woman sobbing. “Perhaps later. There is no rush is there?”

“None at all. We have the rest of our lives to catch up on what we’ve missed.”

When Leopold moved away, Tobias leaned further out the window, peering at the windows closest to his bedchamber. Light flickered in the one containing Lady Venables, and the window was open a touch. Was she conscious at long last?

Leopold laughed. “Get cleaned up and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tobias spun about. “Until then.”

The door closed with a solid thump and then a key turned in the lock. Tobias stared at the door in shock. Damn Leopold. He thought to make Tobias a prisoner, too.

Two

A woman was defined by her reputation. A lady, by the degree of respect others afforded her. She gained approval or censure by the way she conducted herself when in the public eye, by her charity to good works, by the strength of her family connections and the character of her circle of friends. Blythe Walden, Lady Venables of Walden Hall, struggled to muffle her sobs so no one could hear her crying.

She was far beyond humiliation.

Her heart had been shattered by the events of today.

She wiped at her eyes furiously, attempting to pull herself together. The footman and the maid who had lingered at her door were only two of the many that whispered, loudly, that she was evil incarnate. She could never slaughter small animals and leave them on her sister’s bed. But that was exactly what everyone, including her sister the Duchess of Romsey, assumed she’d done. She didn’t know how they could imagine her so cold and ruthless. Blythe couldn’t even look at more than a drop of blood without feeling faint.

She had once thought she was wise in the ways of the world. She had thought she could navigate society’s dangerous waters and remain untouched by scandal. Today she had been proven a fool. Everything she had believed to be an incontrovertible truth was flawed.

She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, squared her shoulders and turned around. There had to be a way to prove her innocence and restore her reputation. But right now she couldn’t decide how.

She lifted her gaze and cried out in alarm. Tobias Randall, the pirate who had terrorized Romsey Abbey for the past weeks, lounging on her bed.

“Quiet, luv,” he said softly. “No need to bring the whole household running to gawk at you.”

He may have attempted to improve his appearance with a bath, but his hair was still wet and he had several days’ growth of beard on his chin. He wore only a loose unbuttoned shirt and breeches. If anyone discovered Tobias Randall in her bedchamber in this state her remaining reputation would vanish. “Get out of my bed this instant you pirate,” Blythe whispered urgently.

A slow smile twisted his lips. “Merely keeping it warm for you. You could always come back to bed and join me.”

Blythe gasped. “Don’t be absurd.”

He laughed softly and stood beside the bed. It was like watching a great cat stalking prey; one ready to pounce if provoked. “Perhaps another time,” he said.