Page 56 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

“Information, primarily,” Leo replied, keeping his tone calm. “I’m searching for a gentleman—about five-and-twenty, fair hair, aristocratic bearing. He may have passed through here within the past fortnight.”

The innkeeper’s expression remained neutral, but a subtle shift in his posture suggested recognition, or at least thoughtfulness.

“Can’t say as I recall such a gentleman,” he rumbled, returning to the tankard he had been polishing. “Not many fine folk pass through these parts.”

Leo took several coins out of his pocket and placed them deliberately on the counter. The gleam of gold against the dim wood caught the innkeeper’s eye immediately.

“Perhaps this might refresh your memory,” he said lightly, though his gaze never wavered from the innkeeper’s face.

The innkeeper’s eyes flickered between the coins and Leo, and he paused, calculating, before giving a curt nod. “Now that you mention it, there was such a gentleman. Kept to himself, he did. Paid in advance, asked no questions, and was left to his own devices.”

“And where might I find him now?” Leo asked, deliberately adopting a relaxed posture.

He noticed Beatrice’s confused look, so he shot her a reassuring gaze back. They knew where they were going, but checking what the locals had seen wouldn’t harm.

The innkeeper hesitated, his eyes briefly flicking to the eastern window, which Leo swiftly noted.

Beatrice stepped forward, her presence calm and measured. “We mean him no harm,” she said. “He’s family, and we’ve been terribly worried. His mother is quite ill, and we’ve been trying to reach him.”

Leo watched the innkeeper’s expression soften as he regarded her. Her gentle authority worked, while gold had only secured attention.

“There’s a cottage,” the innkeeper finally admitted, lowering his voice. “About two miles east, just past the old willow grove. Been let to a gentleman matching that description. Keeps to himself but pays promptly and causes no trouble.”

Beatrice thanked him, her smile genuine, and Leo cast a brief glance at her. He noted the way her features softened when she spoke, how her presence seemed to put even the wariest villagers at ease.

“Best to approach from the northern path,” the innkeeper added. “Less visible from the main road. If you want discretion, that is.”

Leo nodded, and Beatrice quickly thanked him.

They departed with renewed purpose. Leo secured a simple trap and horse for the rutted lanes, keeping his focus split between the road ahead and the quiet presence of Beatrice beside him.

He found his eyes straying to her more often than necessary, watching her profile outlined against the lush Surrey hills, awareof the calm and steadiness she brought to every moment, even this mundane pursuit.

The cottage revealed itself gradually as they approached. It was a modest structure of weathered stone, with a thatched roof and small, curtained windows. Smoke rose from the chimney in a thin ribbon to the afternoon sky, confirming someone lived there.

Leo assisted Beatrice down from the trap, his hands lingering briefly on her waist in a gesture that evoked the intimacies of the previous night. Her breath caught audibly at the contact, though her expression remained carefully neutral as she smoothed her traveling cloak.

Together they approached the cottage door, the gravel path crunching beneath their boots with seeming loudness in the rural quiet.

Leo raised his hand and knocked firmly, the sound echoing with surprising resonance in the still countryside air.

Nothing.

Leo knocked again.

A moment passed. And another. Then, almost imperceptibly, one curtain twitched, suggesting observation from within.

Finally, the latch moved, and the door opened the merest fraction.

“Come in, quickly,” a voice whispered from the shadowed interior.

Chapter Eighteen

“Philip!” Beatrice gasped, rushing forward as the door closed behind them.

Leo watched as his wife embraced his cousin, a peculiar tightness gripping his chest at the sight.

Philip looked thinner than he remembered, his usually immaculate appearance now marked by several days’ growth of beard and disheveled clothing. Yet the relief in his eyes as he returned Beatrice’s embrace was unmistakable.