Page 10 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)

Oliver traced the shelves of the library, his mind only partially occupied with hunting for the book they sought. The other part was occupied by her . No movement escaped him. No sigh. No grunt. No vexed stomp of her foot.

A touch of amusement struck him once more.

Oliver had never been a petty man, but standing in the duke’s library brought a sense of roguishness to his bones. The sense that he, Oliver Cavanagh, had a secret. A secret the Duke of Talbot didn’t know. Would never know. Would probably have several fainting spells over if he did know.

His sense of devilishness quickly disappeared. For it wasn’t the only secret he possessed. He also had a dark one. And it was far from amusing.

Best he focused on the book.

His intention .

However, it was becoming all the more apparent that they would not be finding the book here. He outwardly dragged a hand through his hair while inwardly tugging at it. Hard. He wanted—no, needed —to find that book fast.

His shoulder blades were still scarred from the sharp looks Mr. Hall, the butler, had sent his way. As for the rest of the servants, in his brief time within the residence, those he had passed either ducked their heads to avoid attention or smiled too brightly.

He was doomed.

This disguise, doomed.

He turned to check on Lady Louisa’s progress, and his gaze followed her finger, trailing over every spine of the books she passed.

She had lovely hands.

There was no diabolical bone in this woman’s body. He couldn’t help but believe her claim that she had only misplaced the book, not hidden it from him or given it to someone else. She truly appeared distressed and frustrated that she could not find the book.

The betting book wasn’t here. He knew it in his gut. The book wasn’t anywhere in this house. It was gone.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. But how? The duchess? One of her servants? If the duchess’s people found the book, would they know the significance of it? If the book wasn’t anywhere to be found, then its absence itself might hold the answer.

“Unbelievable,” Lady Louisa muttered. She had stopped her progress around the room at the tall windows overlooking the garden.

“I beg your pardon?”

“They are at it again.”

“Who?” Oliver strode over and stopped beside her, following her gaze to where a couple could partly be seen frolicking.

They were behind a tree, and while most of their bodies were hidden, you could still glimpse enough from this view to understand what they were doing.

“Your family certainly employs passionate servants.”

“How laughable! Here we are searching diligently for a book and they are equally diligently romping about!”

He caught himself before he smiled. “When the master’s away, the servants get up to all sorts of mischief.”

“I ought to applaud their bravery, then.”

“Or leave them be. They are up to mischief. We are up to mischief. You could pretend not to see them.”

She threw him a sidelong glance. “You surprise me, Duke. But who can pretend not to see people kissing? Lord, I can’t not look.” Her gaze whipped back to the garden. “They are inviting my gaze.”

“Perhaps you are so intrigued because you have never been kissed,” Oliver said, the words rolling off his tongue before he could stop them. Confound it. He’d never been one to speak so boldly to a lady. With her, however, he was constantly challenged. In every shape and form a challenge could take.

Her gaze flew back to him. “I beg your pardon? What sort of remark is that?”

Don’t ask him, he didn’t know either. He rubbed the back of his neck. Ah, you fool. You already started, might as well finish. “A simple one,” Oliver said. “You seem awfully curious about kissing.”

A fierce scowl knitted her brows.

“That’s because I am curious.” She paused. “I was once told I look rather intimidating to men. Perhaps that is why no man has ever dared to steal a kiss and I have been unable to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Whoever told you that is a fool.”

“Tell Leo that when next you see him.”

Of course. He almost laughed. He could imagine the scene. “I daresay once you have experienced the marvel of a kiss, you shall be able to look past lovers stealing them in a garden.”

Her whole face turned incredulous. “The marvel of kissing?”

He froze, cursed himself. “I misspoke. There is nothing to marvel about with regard to kissing.”

“ Really? Are you sure? I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d have such a romantic view on the subject. You seem more the sort who would kiss for calculating reasons such as distracting a woman or using the kiss to get something in return.”

Oliver hated how he couldn’t exactly refute that. “You have keen observational skills.”

She grinned. “So I’m not wrong.”

“You are not.”

A chuckle. “Have you ever heard of denying ?”

“Should I have?” Oliver asked. “Why should I deny the truth when it has already been caught?”

“The truth can be caught?” She tucked a curl behind her ear, smiling. “What a clever way to put it. In any event, it certainly will not put you in a favorable light amongst the ladies.”

Oliver nodded at that, somewhat amused. “I suppose it won’t.

” His gaze dropped to her lips, and before he knew it, he was leaning very close—drawn by an impossible pull, as if some invisible force was guiding him closer.

Yet she didn’t flinch, didn’t avert her gaze.

She simply stared at him, unblinking and unmoving.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“I don’t know,” Oliver offered truthfully.

“Do you intend to steal a kiss?”

Did he? Someone else seemed to have taken over both his body and mind. “It wouldn’t be stealing anymore if I did, now would it?”

“Since I caught the truth of your intention?”

“Correct.” He straightened, suppressing the urge to succumb to a temptation he had no desire to entertain. If he did steal a kiss—or simply kiss her—it would not be out of noble sentiment. Rather, it would be to vent his frustration that the book had once again eluded him. “The book isn’t here.”

She let out a sigh he couldn’t interpret, leaning back against the windowsill. “Don’t say that. We haven’t searched the whole library yet. There is still that section,” she pointed to a row of shelves. “And that section.”

“We won’t find the book in either of those sections.” He was sure of it.

“How do you know if we don’t look?”

“My gut.”

“And that is something you can trust more than your eyes?”

Indeed it was. “If it’s going to bother you endlessly, look if you must, but I’m telling you, the book isn’t there.”

“Where else would the book be? It mus t be in the library.”

Where else, indeed. He watched her proceed over to the books, the defiant set in her shoulders almost making him smile. Lady Louisa was determined to prove him wrong. He welcomed her to try.

The question, however, should be raised—could the duchess already have the book in her possession? That would not be good for him. Should he tell Lady Louisa about her stepmother? She appeared unaware of the duchess’s involvement, or was she actually all too aware, he wondered.

Devil take it. He hated this doubt. This uncertainty.

But he also trusted his instincts, and they told him the book wasn’t here, and that Lady Louisa didn’t know about its connection to her stepmother.

But that brought on even more questions.

Would she help him if he told her? Would she be surprised?

Outraged? Would she worry about her brother?

Would she question her father’s involvement?

Would any good come of knowing the truth?

His gaze caught on a small head peeking into the doorway. Oliver cocked his head to the side, studying the boy, who stared at his sister before turning to him, visibly starting when their eyes met.

Ah.

A key element fell into place.

This was why they couldn’t find the book.

Little Leo Talbot.

Not only was Oliver now certain that the boy knew about the book, his whole face told Oliver that this young master was enjoying watching them search for the very object he’d had a hand in hiding.

“Lady Louisa.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you find something?”

“No, but I do have a question. Did you give the book to anyone else to page through?”

Her brows scrunched. “Why ever would I do that?”

“A feeling.” Oliver arched a brow at the boy, motioning him to come over. The boy hesitated, then his head disappeared again.

“A nonsensical feeling. Why not just help me search the shelves?”

“I have a better idea,” Oliver countered. “Let us ask your brother about the book’s whereabouts.”

She turned to him. “Leo? Why?”

“He’s outside the library door, eavesdropping.”

“What?” Her whole body swiveled to the door. “Leo! Are you there? If you are, you better show your face right this instant!”

A few seconds ticked by, then a small body filled the doorway. The boy directed a disdainful glare at Oliver. “What is he doing here?”

“ He is my servant.”

The boy pulled a face. “Was he not a gardener a few hours ago?”

Oliver arched a brow again. For a child, Leo Talbot was not that easily fooled. He could sense Oliver was no ordinary servant. His perceptiveness was most impressive. In some ways, he reminded Oliver a bit of himself at that age.

“And now he is my personal servant,” Lady Louisa announced.

“Why do you have a personal servant?”

Lady Louisa’s hands settled on her hips as she retorted, “That is not a matter to concern yourself with, Leo.”

Her brother looked over to Oliver again. “If you have a personal servant, then I want a personal servant, too.”

Oliver pursed his lips. The boy had spunk. Just like his sister.

“You do not get to have a personal servant.”

“Why not?”

“You are still a child. Once you reach my age you can have as many personal servants as you want.” She suddenly paused. “Actually, I suppose you do get a personal servant.”

His eyes brightened. “I do?”

“Yes, and you already have one: your governess.”

Oliver almost barked out a laugh.

“Now tell me,” Lady Louisa went on. “What are you doing here, spying on us when you should be in your schoolroom going over your studies?”

The boy looked away.

“Leo Talbot! Tell me you didn’t hide the book I am looking for!”

“What book? I do not know what you are talking about.”

“You are the worst liar. What did you do with it? Hand it over right now!”

Oliver rubbed his chin as he studied the two siblings. His instincts prickled again, warning him this was no simple matter.

And he was about to be proven right.