Page 14 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)

Not that he wanted to tempt fate.

Talbot’s ire would be bad for him. And he didn’t have the time or the inclination to fight off Talbot.

He’d rather fight battles worth fighting.

Family feuds, however, weren’t so easily unraveled—grudges had a way of sinking deep.

Old dogs didn’t just hold onto their grudges, they guarded them, nurtured them, passed them down like heirlooms. It would be up to the younger generations to break the cycle—if they weren’t already trained to carry it onward.

And speaking of families that held grudges, Oliver hoped again that the Fury brothers wouldn’t make things too difficult for them in Brighton. He wanted to get those bickering Talbots home as soon as possible.

A small girl with a teary face overlapped the image of Lady Louisa in his mind.

How many years had it been since his father had stolen that little child away?

That single act had ignited the feud into an all out war at the time, sealing the bad blood between their families.

Talbot had put a hole in his father’s shoulder, but the old man had lived.

And yet, Lady Louisa showed no visible repulsion toward him as a Mortimer. No wariness. No lingering hatred. Fear. Almost as if she were unaware.

Had she blocked the events from her mind? Or had it never been revealed to her who had been behind the deeds ten years ago? That must be it—in all likelihood, her father had never informed her. Perhaps to spare her more distress.

She suddenly turned to him, and their gazes collided. Oliver’s muscles tensed, and his spine straightened as if bracing for impact. But the blow had already landed.

One smart brow rose, and she called out, “Are you just going to stand there the whole day, or are we setting off?”

Oliver strode over, nodding at his men. The angel was better off forgetting the anguish of the past. Forgetting about him. Since she didn’t remember him from back then, let it stay that way. “Are you always this lively in the morning?”

The young Talbot heir cast a miserable look his way. “Yes, she is.”

“Little brat, that is only because of your brattish comments.”

The boy pouted. “What’s so brattish about wanting steamed fish for breakfast?”

She poked his forehead. “You don’t even demand steamed fish for breakfast from our own cook! How can you demand it from the innkeeper?”

“Didn’t you once say a person should enjoy the things outside that you can’t enjoy at home?”

“Whenever did I say that to you?” She asked, eyes wide.

“You didn’t say it to me.” Leo lifted his shoulders in an innocent shrug. “I heard you and your friends speak of it before you slipped out of the house to go to an alehouse.”

“That . . .”

Alehouse? A particular one came to mind.

One owned by her stepmother. Oliver patted the boy’s head.

“You do make a valid argument, and so does your sister.” To Louisa, he said.

“A tavern called The Rose perhaps?” Her heiress friends had been there a time or two while Oliver had been doing surveillance of the establishment, but he had never spotted her there.

“No,” she said. “It was called something else, but I can’t recall.”

Oliver nodded, motioning to the carriage. “Shall we?” This time he didn’t wait for her, he snatched up the boy by his waist and entered the carriage in one swift motion, placing the “brat” beside him.

Lady Louisa entered with a dark look but didn’t comment on him forgoing his manners. “We should talk about what happens when we find the men who approached my brother. Brighton is a popular town. People will recognize us.”

Oliver rested his hands on his legs. “Which is why we shall board with a friend of mine on the outskirts of town.”

Her gaze flashed with surprise. “Who is your friend? He won’t mind if my brother and I join as well?”

“You won’t know him,” Oliver said. “I sent a man in advance to inform him of our imminent arrival.”

“I see. Well, I thank you.”

He picked at his sleeves, withholding a smile. “Since you came to pick me up, paid for the lodgings, and orchestrated our travels, I could do at least this much. How would you wish to proceed?”

She blinked, then cleared her throat. “Well, since they have a gentleman’s club book but seem rather ungentlemanly, I suppose we should start at a teahouse.”

Oliver arched a brow. “A teahouse? Why?”

“Gossip runs rampant at teahouses. The servers know about everything going on in town.”

“And how would you know this?”

“How else?” Leo piped up from beside him. “She enjoys gossiping with the servants.”

“You as well, little brat,” Lady Louisa shot back.

Oliver cocked his head in thought. Just what did a lady gossip about with the servants? He couldn’t imagine such a thing. Well... he thought about the scowl of his valet, also a man of— secret —affairs, riding his horse alongside this carriage.

Very well. He could form a picture in his mind.

But they didn’t gossip. It was only ever pure business. Mmm. They did speak of other people’s business. Could that be considered business gossip?

Were he and Owen gossips?

No.

“We shall arrive in a few hours,” Oliver murmured in an effort to prevent the two from falling into bickering again. “You and your brother are friends of my family traveling with me.”

A snort came from Lady Louisa’s bench across from him. “Friends of your family? You are surprisingly humorous.”

He caught the teasing note and smoothly asked. “Shall I introduce you as an enemy then?”

The lad waved a hand. “Friends are fine.”

Lady Louisa leaned over to pinch his cheek until he yelped. “Why do you think you are in charge here?”

The boy sat straighter. “I am the highest ranking here.”

She threatened to give him another pinch. “Until you reach the age of eighteen, age trumps rank, brat.”

Oliver stared at the young heir. Their resemblance was uncanny.

The boy reminded him too much of Lady Louisa as a little ten-year-old girl.

How old had he been back then? Barely a man himself.

Another memory clutched at his mind, sharp as a hook.

A small girl clinging to his neck, sobbing in fright.

A prickle ran along his hairline, and he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the sensation off.

He should never have entered her home nor the carriage when she’d appeared again.

The former he’d thought a necessity given the circumstances.

But the latter... How could he explain his feet taking on a life of their own?

It was as though a cord had wrapped around every one of his limbs and pulled him forward.

The same had happened when their gazes had locked earlier.

“My friend shall be asking around already. Let us see what he uncovers. If his information is unhelpful, then we shall go to your teahouse.”

Her gaze shifted from her brother to Oliver. “As you wish.”

“So amenable,” Oliver murmured. Again, that feeling of expecting the next blow to land at any moment moved along the edges of his nerves.

A childish snort came from Leo. “She’s amenable because she doesn’t have a better plan.”

“What is the definition of a better plan?” Louisa retorted. “The better plan is the one that succeeds, and you don’t know which one that is until it succeeds.”

Oliver leaned back in his seat, watching the two.

Bickering again.

It was almost nostalgic, this back-and-forth.

Soothing.