Page 22 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)
And then another man had appeared at her side.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation had twisted his gut. He didn’t like it.
So, he had retreated and kept to the shadows, yes, but he followed her the moment she’d slipped from the ballroom.
She whirled to face him. “Lord, you scared me!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest. “What do you think you are doing?”
“I am following you.”
“Why? Do you not have somewhere else to search? No, wait, that’s not even the point.
Step back, let me see you.” Her gaze dragged over him, slow and deliberate, from top to bottom, a bold flash of appreciation sparking in her eyes before she said, “You still look much more dashing in Talbot livery.”
His ears caught fire, and Oliver abruptly turned to lock the door, sealing them in the chamber alone. “I didn’t plan on following you to search at all, but I changed my mind.”
“Oh? Why all of a sudden?”
“I found it impossible not to keep an eye on you,” he admitted.
The grin she sent him could have sweetened any bitter potion. “Really? That is your excuse?”
He shrugged, his gaze dropping to her mouth before meeting her eyes again. “I was also annoyed by your,” a cough, “our companion.”
“Ah, Reaper. No that, I do believe.”
Oliver cursed inside, striving to gather his deuced wits. “It would be much more enjoyable to leave without him.”
“He does have a way to dampen the mood, does he not?”
“Exceedingly.”
She gave him an arch look. “That and my sole company is much more preferable, is it not?”
His lips twitched. “Immeasurably.”
She chuckled, turning toward the desk, but he caught the way she bit her lower lip between her teeth. “If we find the book tonight, we can leave right after.”
“Of course.” The sooner they departed, the better for all. “So let us find that book.”
She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Wait, Reaper is keeping watch over our carriage, isn’t he?”
The corner of his lips lifted. “I sent him on an errand.” He quickly explained what happened.
She let out a delighted laugh, eyes brimming with devilry. “Serves the man right! Let us hope my instinct is correct and that the book is here.”
“It will be here,” Oliver said confidently. He believed in her.
She cocked her head at him, amused. “How can you be so sure about that?”
“Because you are here.”
She blinked and, for a moment, simply stared at him. “Are you telling me you’ve placed all your trust in me? I am honored beyond words.”
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I believe the word is faith.”
“Lawks,” she exhaled a laugh. “Well, no pressure to find the ledger then.”
The corner of his lips lifted. “None at all.”
She turned her attention back to the chamber, scanning the room. Her gaze bounced over the bed, the nightstand, the sofa, and the writing desk. “Now, if I were Lady Havendish, where would I hide a secret ledger?”
“Beneath the bed in a suitcase filled with old bonnets?” Oliver offered, the scene from the other night filling his head.
Louisa smiled. “Probably not.”
Her gaze returned to the writing desk nestled against the wall. “It shall be a place where I can retrieve it quite easily to add to the entries.”
“That seems plausible.”
She strode over to the writing desk, her skirts brushing against her legs as he followed close behind, close enough to once more catch the faint scent of sweetness. “Many of these desks have hidden compartments.” She felt around it. “There must be a latch.”
He stared at her face, obscured by a black mask quite similar to his. It fitted perfectly with her dress. “That was lord Westbridgeson earlier, correct?”
She spared him a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, yes.” Her lips curled in annoyance. “Can you believe he approached me without an introduction?”
Oliver arched a brow. “One could argue that I did as well.”
“You are different.” She suddenly chuckled. “Honestly, it feels as though I have known you all my life.”
Oliver’s raised brow lowered again and joined the other in a furrow, an indescribable feeling entering his chest. He brought the subject back to the earl. “If your stepmother intended to introduce you, then she must have wanted to do so for a reason.”
“You are quite right,” she said, still fiddling with the desk. “Apparently he is to be considered a good match for me.”
He was most decidedly not. “What do you think?” Oliver asked her.
“I think it’s poppycock,” she answered instantly, then scoffed. “Ours would be a good match for the duchess, but not for me.”
Oliver bit back a smile.
Clever angel.
He thought it was poppycock too. If the match was desired by the duchess, there must be something more to it, but even more importantly, the man did not suit Lady Louisa at all, even without the worry of criminal intent.
Just from watching them dance, he could tell it would be a match made in the chambers of hell.
They did not look good together.
In fact, to his eye, they looked quite mismatched.
“It’s best to avoid him in the future,” Oliver agreed.
“Yes, I intend to do exactly that.” A latch clicking into place made both of them jerk. She shot him a grin. “Well, well, well.”
“Let us hope there is a ledger.” He hoped to God there was.
She laughed, lifting a thin wooden panel from the inside of a drawer. Moments later, she pulled out a brown leather journal. “No hope needed!” She lifted the thing up to her face. “This looks like a ledger to me.”
Oliver took the book from her fingertips, flipping through the pages.
Sure enough . . .
The back of her head filled his sight as she leaned close to peer over his hand. Delight laced her words. “How lucky are we! But I’m rather surprised at how easy this was.”
Oliver would have to agree, but he was not the sort to question good fortune. “Not everyone chooses the best hiding spots. Shall we go?”
She straightened, nodding. “Yes, now would be the perfect time to slip away.”
Good. “What about your father? Should you leave a note?”
“No,” she said, scratching the tip of her nose. “I’ve yet to see my father, so I’ve decided to disappear as though I never came in the first place.”
Oliver didn’t comment. It wasn’t his place to interfere with her family, and he also wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. “Very well.”
They left the bedchamber without incident, and it wasn’t until they slipped into the garden that the sudden approach of voices alerted them to people turning the corner.
Oliver sprang into action. He grabbed Louisa by the waist and pushed her up against a nearby tree.
He leaned over her, bending his head to hers until their noses brushed over each other, their lips hovering an inch apart, as though this closeness would help them go unnoticed.
“Oh!” A voice suddenly exclaimed.
Damn it.
Two hands gripped the front of his jacket, and Oliver moved his body, pressing in as close as he could, so that he covered Lady Louisa completely, hiding her from any prying eyes.
“Morti—”
His lips pressed against hers.
Nothing else. They just rested against hers, cutting off any sound.
“Let us go,” a male voice said. “Give the couple some privacy.”
Their footsteps faded, and it wasn’t until Oliver was certain they had left completely that he lifted his head, slowly pushing away from Lady Louisa.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She blinked once. Twice. Then let out a slow breath. “Am I all right?” she echoed, her voice a touch higher than usual.
Oliver stretched into a slow grin. “You must have gotten quite a fright, being so speechless and all.”
Her brows furrowed. “Speechless?”
He laughed now. “Do you know where you are, Lady Louisa? Or have you been thoroughly swept away—”
She swung her fist, landing a solid punch in his gut. He coughed out another laugh. “That’s more like it.”
“How bold of you, Mortimer!”
“What else would you have me do?” Oliver asked. He’d acted out of instinct, but he still didn’t regret his actions. He’d do it again.
“I don’t know, but a kiss ?”
He straightened, fingers circling her wrist and pulling her towards the path that led to the stables. “It was but a peck, if it can even be called that.”
“A kiss by any other name is still a kiss!”
True. “A necessary evil.”
“Lawks, I cannot believe you just referred to a kiss as a necessary evil.”
Neither could he. The woman scrambled his brains.
Every single time.