Читать книгу Bound By Love - Rosemary Rogers - Страница 11

IT TOOK THREE DAYS FOR LEONIDA to acquire the nerve necessary to walk the mile from Hillside to Meadowland.

Stupid, really. She had discovered from Brianna the first day she arrived in Surrey that the Duke of Huntley made a habit of spending his afternoons assisting his tenants and inspecting his vast lands. There had truly been no reason to hesitate so long.

After all, the quicker she found the damnable letters, the quicker she could return to Russia.

She told herself that her reluctance was nothing more than revulsion. She was no prude (how could she be with Nadia as her mother?), but she did draw the line at behaving like a common thief.

Deep inside, however, she knew it was not just her moral outrage that kept her from the inevitable.

No, it had far more to do with her reaction to the Duke of Huntley.

Odd how her entire body had seemed to tingle with excitement the moment he had glanced in her direction. He was stunningly beautiful, of course. But so was his brother and she had felt nothing but gratitude toward Lord Summerville. Well, gratitude and a horrid guilt.

Certainly her heart did not race and her knees feel weak whenever he happened to be near. Nor did she have the unpleasant sensation that his penetrating gaze could see through her flimsy excuses to lay bare her true reason for being in Surrey.

At last she could delay her duty no longer.

Waiting until Brianna had excused herself to rest after luncheon, Leonida quietly slipped through a side door and meandered aimlessly through the gardens. Only when she was certain she could no longer be seen from the house did she slip through the nearest gate and head across the open meadows.

Away from the house she allowed her steps to slow, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight that had made an appearance after the damp morning. Her nurse had told her fascinating stories of England, speaking of her own childhood in a small village in Derbyshire and the lovely countryside. But it was even more charming than Leonida had expected.

It was all so very…green.

Avoiding the various cottages, Leonida entered the thick woods rather than crossing the open fields. Although she did not intend to sneak into Meadowland, she preferred not to have word of her arrival spread throughout the neighborhood. The last thing she needed was the Duke of Huntley rushing home early.

Careful to follow the path, it was not long before she stepped from the trees, her eyes widening as she caught her first sight of Meadowland.

It was not nearly so vast or grand as the palaces in Russia, and even from a distance there was a hint of scruffiness, like a well-worn slipper, but Leonida discovered herself drawn to the rambling mansion.

There was a comforting timelessness to the sturdy stone structure, she decided. With its massive bays, sash windows and carved stone balustrade, it appeared as if it had sprung naturally from the surrounding parklands rather than having been thrust there by man.

She allowed herself a brief moment of silent appreciation before forcing her reluctant feet back into motion. It would be far too easy to give in to the panic fluttering in the back of her mind and flee back to Hillside.

You will not be a coward, Leonida Karkoff.

Pretending a confidence she was far from feeling, she followed the winding, tree-lined path that led past the ivycovered tower gate and, at last, climbed the shallow steps. Not surprisingly one of the double oak doors was pulled open as she crossed the wide terrace. The Duke of Huntley struck her as a gentleman who would inspire complete loyalty among his staff.

Her courage briefly wavered beneath the formidable glare of the thin butler attired in a black-and-gold uniform. The elderly servant made no effort to disguise his dislike at her intrusion, but obviously having been warned by his employer that Leonida had been issued an invitation, he grudgingly led her through the marble foyer that offered a view of the impressive staircase and down a wainscotpaneled hallway to the library.

Opening the door with a bow, the butler disappeared into the bowels of the house, leaving Leonida alone to enter the vast room.

She breathed a sigh of pleasure at the towering shelves soaring two floors toward a ceiling painted with a stunning panorama of the local landscape. Along one wall was a bank of towering windows that overlooked a pretty deer park filled with trees and wildflowers. And at the end was a massive marble fireplace with two wing chairs and a narrow pier table situated before it.

Eventually, her gaze shifted to the heavy walnut desk and matching chair near the windows.

She briefly wavered. Did she dare try to sneak up and search for the Duchess’s private rooms, or did she begin here?

In the end cowardice won the day. The mere thought of trying to slip past an army of servants to intrude into a dead woman’s privacy made her stomach twist with dread.

Besides, it was entirely possible that the Duchess of Huntley used this beautiful room to write her correspondence.

Her decision made, she crossed to the desk and, bending down, she jerked open one of the upper drawers. She grimaced at the sight of the deep pile of papers, realizing this might take more time than she had first assumed.

Dividing her attention between the papers and the door leading to the hallway, she reached the last drawer when the unmistakable sound of footsteps had her slamming it shut and racing toward the nearest shelf, her heart in her throat.

She was blindly studying the leather-bound books when someone entered the room. With a pretense of indifference, she glanced to the side, fully expecting the grim butler to request she take her leave. Instead it was the Duke who stepped over the threshold, his expression hard as he studied her with an unnerving intensity.

Leonida froze. Good lord, he was beautiful. Disturbingly beautiful with his dark, perfectly chiseled features and his muscular body shown to advantage in his blue coat and buckskins.

At the moment his raven curls were tumbled from the wind and his cravat loosened to reveal the strong column of his throat, a testament to his hours in the fields, but his casual appearance only added to his potent attraction.

But it was the relentless intelligence in his dark blue eyes that sent a chill down her spine.

This man was no fool and she sensed he already had suspicions of her arrival in Surrey.

Dangerous.

The silence lasted for several painful heartbeats, then with a smile that did not meet his eyes, he was smoothly moving forward to take her hand and lift it to his lips.

“Miss Karkoff,” he murmured. “My butler informed me I would find you here.”

She tugged her hand from his grasp, unsettled by the tingles of pleasure that raced up her arm.

“I…” She halted to clear the husky fear from her voice. “I did not expect you.”

He arched a brow. “No?”

“Lady Summerville mentioned you spent most afternoons in your fields.”

Something flashed through his eyes. Curiosity? Suspicion? “As a rule, although I do occasionally spend time with my accounts.”

So much for trusting in luck. She would not make that mistake again.

“I hope you do not mind my intrusion, your Grace?”

“Of course not.” He casually leaned a shoulder against the sturdy shelf, his powerful presence filling the room as his gaze slid blatantly over her sprigged muslin gown with tiny satin roses sewn along the scooped bodice. At last he returned his attention to the blush staining her cheeks. “I did invite you to make use of the library. Have you not discovered anything of interest?”

She managed a meaningless smile. She had not spent years among the treacherous Russian society without developing some skill in dissembling.

“I was indulging in my love for browsing. Your collection is quite magnificent.”

“In all fairness I must confess that I inherited a large portion of the collection from my various ancestors, although I do occasionally add a few books.”

She glanced to the wrapped packages sitting on the scrolled satinwood table near the door. She would bet her favorite pearl necklace they held newly arrived books.

“How occasionally?”

“Perhaps occasionally is not quite the proper word,” he conceded, a heart-melting twinkle entering his eyes.

Her stomach quivered. She was too aware of his potent appeal.

“I did not mean to disturb you. I will return…

Without warning, he reached out to grasp her arm and steered her toward the wing chairs.

“Please have a seat, Miss Karkoff. I have requested that Mrs. Slater bring us tea. I believe you will find her seedcake to be the finest in England.”

She briefly debated the odds of making it to the door before he could catch her, only to swiftly dismiss the ludicrous thought.

She had been well and truly cornered, and there was nothing to do but brave it out.

She sank gracefully into one of the chairs and folded her hands in her lap, hoping the penetrating blue eyes did not notice they were shaking.

“Thank you.”

Taking his own seat, the Duke stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle and putting at risk the fine gloss on his Hessians.

“Tell me what you have seen of the house.”

She stiffened. Seen of the house? Mon Dieu. Did he suspect she had come to search Meadowland?

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought perhaps Goodson had given you a tour. He is inordinately proud of the rambling old place and inclined to haul unsuspecting guests from room to room regardless of their boredom.”

“No.” She breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Of course, I did have the opportunity to admire the front foyer and your very fine marble staircase. I can readily understand your butler’s pride.”

“Edmond claims that it shall soon be a shabby ruin if I do not devote myself to renovations.”

“It is hardly a ruin,” she protested, faintly smiling at the lift of his brows. “Although it might be a tiny bit frayed,” she conceded. “Still, it is perfectly understandable you would be reluctant to have the house altered in any way.”

“And why do you believe me to be reluctant?”

“As I recall, you lost your parents at a very young age. It is only to be expected you would cherish their memory, especially within your home.”

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.”

She turned back in time to catch the hint of genuine amusement that softened his features.

“So I do, but not, I must point out, for artistic purposes.”

“No, your work is far more important.”

His gaze lowered to linger on her lips. “Take care, Miss Karkoff, or you will quite turn my head.”

Her heart missed a beat and she hastily set aside her cup and shoved a piece of seedcake into her mouth. Anything to distract herself from the heat that suddenly swirled through her body.

“Somehow I doubt that anything or anyone easily turns your head, your Grace,” she at last muttered. “You are very…”

“What?”

“Shrewd.”

“Thus far I am substantive and shrewd.” He smiled, but Leonida detected a faint hint of pique in his voice. “More traits that one desires in a man of business than a gentleman. Perhaps I will not have my head turned after all.”

She lifted her brows in surprise. “You would prefer I think of you as shallow and stupid?”

He caught and held her gaze. “I would prefer handsome and charming.”

For a startling moment, Leonida found herself lost in his stunning eyes, momentarily forgetting her mother’s pleas, the damnable letters and even the suspicion that this man was toying with her much like a cat with a cornered mouse.

Her only thought was that this gentleman stirred sensations in her body that were as shocking as they were delicious. And if they had encountered one another in a Russian drawing room, she would have done everything in her power to try and captivate him.

Abruptly realizing that his expression had become speculative as she gawked at him in silence, Leonida set aside her plate.

“You were correct, your Grace.”

“I was?”

“These are the tastiest seedcakes I have ever eaten.”

“Ah.” His lips twitched. “Tell me, Miss Karkoff, how do matters stand in Russia?”

She blinked at the unexpected question. “I am not certain what you mean.”

“When my brother left St. Petersburg he had just assisted in halting a near rebellion.”

Her lips thinned at the unwelcome reminder of the uprising among the Emperor’s guards. As her mother had so recently pointed out, the politics in Russia were always a murky affair, with a dozen secret societies and foreign powers plotting to overthrow the Czar at any given time, but the betrayal by his own army had been designed to strike Alexander Pavlovich directly in his heart.

“Yes, it was an unfortunate incident.”

“Rather more than unfortunate,” he drawled.

Her chin tilted with offended loyalty. “England is not without a few revolts by the people.”

His smile widened at her sharp tone. “True. I was merely curious about the mood in St. Petersburg.”

“Much as it always is, I suppose.”

“Has the Czar returned from his travels?”

She considered her words, wondering if his interest was merely passing curiosity or something more.

“He had not when I left, although I believe he was expected shortly. The Emperor does not keep me informed of his movements.”

“According to my brother, the Emperor rarely keeps anyone informed of his movements.”

Well, that was true enough. Unfortunately.

“Do you have a specific interest in Czar Alexander?”

The handsome features hardened with an unmistakable warning. “I am very fond of Alexander Pavlovich, but he does possess a habit of putting my brother at risk when it suits his purpose.”

She blinked in confusion. “I understood that Lord Summerville had resigned his position with the Emperor?”

“Yes, he has.”

Was that his suspicion? That she had come to Surrey to lure Lord Summerville back to Russia?

Hastily she was on her feet, hoping to disguise the flood of relief that raced through her.

“I should return to Hillside before Lady Summerville begins to worry.”

“But you have not yet chosen a book,” he protested, rising from the chair to stand at her side.

“Perhaps another day. A woman in Lady Summerville’s condition must not be made anxious.”

“Condition?” His brows lifted. “Did Brianna tell you she is increasing?”

“Not precisely, but it was not difficult to surmise considering.…” She broke off her words, suddenly realizing it was not her place to reveal that poor Brianna spent most mornings battling her nausea.

“So, I am not the only who is shrewd.”

“Hardly shrewd,” she denied. If she had a bit of sense she would never have agreed to her mother’s insane plot. “Goodbye, your Grace.”

With a hasty curtsy, she was heading for the door, not at all surprised that before she could yank the thing open, the Duke’s voice was halting her escape.

Nothing was easy when this man was near.

“I shall see you at dinner, of course.”

Reluctantly she turned, rather disconcerted to discover that he had moved to stand behind his desk.

“Dinner?”

“My brother has very kindly invited me to dine at Hillside.”

Her heart jerked at his words, but she knew it was not from fear. “I see. Then until later, your Grace.”

“A moment, Miss Karkoff,” he murmured, once again halting her escape, bending down to pluck something from the floor.

“Yes?”

Straightening, he held out his hand. “Your hairpin, I believe.”

This time it was fear that made her heart leap and her blood run cold. Damn. How could she have been so careless?

Frozen in place, she frantically searched her mind as he smoothly crossed the room.

“I…it must have fallen out while I was admiring the view,” she managed to croak, her throat dry as she met his brooding gaze.

“No doubt.”

Praying her hand did not tremble, she reached to pluck the diamond hairpin from his outstretched palm.

“Thank you.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

She jumped at the abrupt question. “What?”

“The view. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, I…very much.” Oh lord, she had to get away from that all too knowing gaze. She felt as if he could see into her very soul. “Goodbye, your Grace.”

With that unnerving swiftness he had grasped her hand, lifting it to his lips to caress her knuckles with a slow, intimate kiss.

“À bientôt, my angel.”

LEANING AGAINST THE DOORJAM, Stefan listened to the swish of muslin as Miss Karkoff rushed down the hallway. Just for a moment, he allowed himself to savor the lingering scent of jasmine and the memory of her warm flesh beneath his lips.

Christ. He had never been so aware of a woman. The delicate line of her profile. The lush curve of her mouth. The gentle mounds of her breasts that begged for a man’s touch.

His body didn’t give a damn why she was in Surrey. Only how swiftly he could get her into his bed.

Thrusting aside the dangerous thoughts, Stefan waited for the inevitable arrival of his butler. Goodson had not been pleased by Stefan’s invitation to allow Miss Karkoff to make use of the library. The servant had devoted his life to ensuring that Stefan was protected from even the least disruption.

While he appreciated Goodson’s dedication, Stefan intended to ensure the poor servant put aside his protective nature. At least until he discovered what the blazes Miss Karkoff was plotting.

When Stefan had casually suggested to Miss Karkoff that she visit his library, it had been with a vague hope of earning her gratitude, and perhaps luring her into revealing some hint of her true purpose in Surrey. He had not truly expected her to accept the offer. Not if she were here to sway Edmond into some foolish scheme for the Emperor.

Now he had to wonder if he was mistaken.

Oh, he was still suspicious of the beautiful woman. She was hiding something. He was as certain of that as he was certain that she had been searching his desk before he had so unexpectedly returned home.

But what?

He was brooding on the puzzle when the thin, silver-haired butler silently slid down the hall to stand before him.

“Ah, Goodson.”

The servant offered a bow. “Your Grace?”

“When did Miss Karkoff arrive?”

A sour expression settled on the dignified face. “Precisely at a quarter past one.”

Stefan gave a slow nod. He had arrived back at the house at exactly two o’clock.

“So, she was here some time before I returned.”

“You did say that you had invited her to make use of the library. I hope I did not do wrong to allow her to stay?”

“Not at all.” Stefan absently toyed with the gold signet ring that every Duke of Huntley had worn since the time of Henry the Eighth. “I must say I extended the invitation in the hopes of learning more about the chit, but I did not truly expect her to make an appearance. Now I must reconsider my entire theory.”

Goodson frowned. “I beg pardon, sir?”

“I assumed she had come to Surrey with some ploy to lure my brother into Alexander Pavlovich’s schemes. Now I must wonder…” Stefan shook his head in aggravation. He was not accustomed to anyone being capable of playing him for a fool.

Miss Leonida Karkoff would pay.

And he could think of the sweetest of punishments.

“I shall make certain she is not allowed to cross the threshold again,” Goodson swore, thankfully unaware of Stefan’s erotic thoughts.

“No, Goodson. I wish you to make her feel a welcomed guest whenever she arrives.”

The butler scowled. “Are you certain, your Grace?”

“Quite certain.”

“If you do not trust her, then surely she should not be given the opportunity to cause mischief?”

Stefan’s lips twisted. “I have no genuine reason not to trust her, to be honest. She is most likely precisely what she seems to be. A young Russian noblewoman who is anxious to become acquainted with English society.”

“But?”

“But, in the event she is not, then I desire to know precisely what she is doing here. And the only means to do that is to keep a close eye upon her.”

Goodson clicked his tongue. “So I am to allow her to freely roam about your house?”

“Allow her to roam, but I want a close eye kept upon her,” Stefan corrected. “Just ensure she is not aware that she is being watched.”

“As you wish.”

The servant heaved a heavy sigh, but Stefan was confident that the efficient butler would fulfill the command with his usual efficiency.

Of course, efficiency was not all that the delicate situation demanded.

“Goodson.”

“Yes, your Grace?”

He straightened from the doorjamb, his expression one of warning.

“Be sure that Miss Karkoff has no reason to suspect she is anything but an appreciated guest.”

Goodson dipped his head in ready understanding. “Very well.”