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Without waiting a polite moment for her reply he walked away, leaving Andrew to jog after him. “That was very cold of you.”

“I would have been much colder if I was forced to endure inane chit-chat over the weather or, god forbid, cures for colic,” Frederick said.

“Wait,” Andrew halted, one brow lifted over his brown eye. “A lady spoke to you aboutcolic?”

“Colic, cross stitching, the ingredients in turtle soup, the many variations of houndstooth, and why it is a cardinal sin to wear silk and satin together,” Frederick shuddered. “I understand your need to be a rake, Andrew, all the pleasure and none of the pain of listening to such nonsensical chatter.”

The dance broke and as the women and men left the floor to obtain refreshments, Andrew said, “Is that your way of saying you wish to be inducted into the hall of the brotherhood of rakes?”

“I will tell you when I am ready to jump out of windows on threat of discovery,” Fredrick replied as he seated himself at the table.

Just as he contemplated excusing himself with some made-up errand, his grandmother let out a small yawn, only half-concealed behind her gloved hand. He shot her a glare.

“I need to check something with the staff,” he announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his full, towering height. The conversation at the table barely faltered as he left, but his sudden departure did not go unnoticed by the guests. Eyes followed him with curiosity, particularly those belonging to the young women who had been so eager to catch the Duke’s attention.

As Frederick made his way out of the room he was quickly joined by Andrew, whose eyes sparkled with amusement as he fell into step with the Duke.

“Checking something with the staff, hmm?” Andrew’s voice was laced with barely concealed laughter. “Quite the excuse, my friend.”

Frederick cast him a sidelong glance, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like charming one of those women my grandmother lured here?”

Andrew chuckled. “Ah, but this is far more entertaining. Your face alone, Frederick, was worth the trip.” He gestured back toward the dining room with a flourish. “All those lovely ladies, and yet not one of them has managed to capture the great Duke’s attention.”

Frederick scowled, quickening his pace. “They are here because my grandmother forced them to come. This is not some game to me, Andrew.”

“Not a game?” Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “What do you call a room full of desperate ladies all vying for your favor? Sounds like a game to me.”

Frederick growled low in his throat. “These women are neither here for pleasure nor are they here because they want me. They have come here because they want the title. They want the Blackridge name and everything that comes along with it.”

Andrew shrugged, the casual movement making him look every bit the rake he was. “Well, you cannot deny that they are all quite beautiful. I am certain that more than one of them could be persuaded to…”

“Enough,” Frederick interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You know damn well I am not interested in your persuasion. This entire evening is a farce and I will not participate in it.”

Andrew sighed dramatically, shaking his head sadly and placing a heavy hand over his heart. “You are a difficult man to please, my friend. But if you insist on being unsociable, I suppose I cango back in there and distract the guests while you slink off to hide.”

“Thank you,” Frederick said dryly. “Do try not to embarrass me while you are at it.”

Andrew grinned. “With pleasure, my unsociable friend.” He gave a deep, exaggerated bow before turning back toward the dining room, leaving Frederick alone in the corridor.

Frederick allowed himself a long, annoyed exhale as he watched Andrew disappear through the door. He would finally have a moment of peace.

He made his way down the hall to the library, seeking the quiet solitude of the room that always managed to calm his frayed nerves.

The library had always been his sanctuary; a place where he could escape from the pressures of the world, and from people who wanted things from him—people like his grandmother and her endless parade of eligible women.

But the moment he pushed open the library door and stepped inside, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There, sitting in his favorite armchair by the fire, was a stranger—a young woman he had never seen before.

Her legs were curled beneath her and a book was opened on her lap as she read and basked in the soft glow of the fire’s fading embers. She looked utterly at peace, as though she belonged there.

The firelight also revealed the disheveled state of her clothes, the bruises on both of her knees and the smudges of dirt on her face.

Frederick’s eyes narrowed as his mind quickly shifted from surprise to suspicion. How had this woman come to be in his library? Who was she? And, more importantly, what was she doing here, alone, in his private sanctuary?

He quietly shut the door behind him and took a few measured steps toward her, his boots tapping softly on the hardwood floor.

The woman didn’t notice him at first, her attention entirely absorbed by the book in her hands.