Page 16 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

“ Y our first time, I suppose?” Gideon asked bitterly, his voice emerging from the darkness.

“My first time, what?” Leila replied flatly, devoid of the bright, calculated allure she typically used to disarm and distract.

“Being imprisoned,” he said.

She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re the one asking me this? The man who had held me tied to his bed?”

“You were never truly my prisoner.” He waved the thought away, his chains clinking. “Are you a prisoner here? Or are you serving an ulterior motive? Perhaps you want to gain something from me by pretending to be locked up with me?”

“I have never pretended with you, Gideon,” she answered honestly. “And I am not about to start now.”

“Well, I never truly trusted you, Leila . And I am not about to start now, either. Especially since you’re the reason for my capture.”

The way he said her name… It hurt her heart. He didn’t trust her, and he had every reason not to.

So she stayed silent.

“What? No denial?” His words dripped with bitterness.

“Is there any use? You’re determined to blame me for all sins anyway.”

“Would I be wrong?”

“I lied to you, yes. I withheld things from you, true. I was tasked to hurt you.” She paused and swallowed loudly. “But I couldn’t accomplish that task. No matter how hard I tried.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he replied tersely. “You’ve hurt me a plenty.”

* * *

Fifty-two hours earlier…

Ten days after her failed poisoning attempt on the Wolverstone, Leila attended the Lord and Lady Payne’s charity musicale.

Usually, Leila enjoyed the brief reprieves from being locked in her room all day. She loved the balls, the conversations, the music. But lately, she was reluctant to leave the house, knowing her actions would be observed, noted, and reported back to him .

Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but with so many failures, every movement would prompt another visit from the man she preferred to avoid.

She needed to finish the mission, and she needed to do it fast.

The more days she spent without contact from Emir, the more worried she became. This was supposed to be her final mission. After that, they would both be free… at least, that’s what he promised.

Not that she believed in his promises. There was a chance that being free in that man’s twisted mind meant being killed.

Which was a fair alternative compared to the life Leila lived now. But not Emir…

Leila positioned herself strategically near the wall, where she could observe the assembled guests. Her eyes immediately found Wolverstone across the room. He had not approached her yet, not that he should.

In his eyes, she was probably just a brief failed liaison after the way she’d rushed out of the ball following their short but fiery kiss.

Well, fiery for her. For him… it could have been just another night. Perhaps he’d already found a less fickle lady.

The idea shouldn’t have stung so, but it did.

Or perhaps he’d spent the entire night sick from her attempted poisoning and had figured out that she was trying to kill him, purposefully keeping her at arm’s length.

Either explanation didn’t bode well for her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

What if… if he truly was as dangerous as she’d been told, as skilled and vicious—and if he still harbored any feelings for her—perhaps she could talk to him, explain her situation, and persuade him to help her escape instead.

What if he could become her savior?

Her wolf.

Bozkurtim .

No.

She had to shake off the useless fantasy.

That was too much of a risk.

A risk that he’d say no. A risk that he’d say yes and then fail. A risk that they might succeed in freeing her but not Emir.

Too many risks.

She wasn’t willing to take any of them.

Her current plan was risky, too. But it was better to deal with the devil she knew… right?

She let out a breath, the uncertainty tearing her apart.

So, she did the only thing she could do: stay the course.

She watched Wolverstone intently as his gaze was occupied by someone else.

It wasn’t some widow ready for a tryst, oh no. It was Lord Northfolk. Or Northwalk. North… something. The portly lord who stood near the refreshments table.

His name didn’t matter as much as the fact that Leila had noticed Gideon watching him at Kensington’s ball as well. He reminded her of a toad.

North… Toad?

Perhaps that was a more fitting name for him.

Was he Gideon’s next victim?

She was determined to test her theory and use it as her final attempt to eliminate Gideon.

Her heart squeezed tightly, sweat beading on her forehead.

She had to do it. He was a threat.

More importantly, he was her last mission.

If she didn’t kill him, she would never see Emir again. If she did kill him, there was a slight chance that she would.

Was she willing to take a man’s life for that chance?

Yes .

But was she willing to take Gideon’s life for that chance?

Her gaze drifted back to his tall stature, his silver mane, his light gray eyes…

Leila swallowed.

She would be saving this North Toad fellow.

Her gaze fell on the portly man who was practically salivating as he openly lusted after the young debutantes scattered throughout the room, his lecherous gaze lingering on their innocent faces and youthful figures.

Even more appalling was the fact that he made no attempt to hide his inappropriate behavior, even with his wife and daughters standing mere feet away.

Her nose twitched.

I have no choice.

Do I?

She did not have much time to contemplate her options. She needed to act fast.

She devised a plan in two parts.

Lure North Toad for a tryst—he would be the bait. Then wait for Gideon to follow him—he would be the fish.

And when he did, she would jump out from the shadows and attack him, taking him by surprise—she would be the hook.

She knew that the only way to overpower him in a fight was to have the element of surprise on her side. Thus, the plan.

With that in mind, Leila continued watching North Toad’s blatant inappropriate advances toward young women in front of his wife.

But it was young Miss Charlotte who seemed to capture his most focused attention.

He had called for her to join his family’s conversation, and now the young woman stood flanked by his daughters, struggling to focus on them rather than the lecherous old man.

Leila had learned from eavesdropping that she was a young opera singer—a talented one who had once resided in the women’s shelter patronized by both Caroline and Lady Payne.

Recognizing her extraordinary voice, they had arranged this performance as a chance for recognition and advancement.

Not part of the nobility, young and vulnerable, and with no protector in sight, North Toad had undoubtedly marked her as easy prey.

Leila observed Miss Jones’s increasingly desperate attempts to maintain polite conversation while North Toad moved closer, his hand “accidentally” brushing her arm and whispering words that made the young woman’s face flush with mortification.

The poor girl had no choice but to endure it; to protest would be seen as rudeness, effectively ending her fledgling career before it could begin.

Leila could not interfere, but she could use this situation to her advantage.

A plan began to take shape in her mind as she retreated to a secluded alcove and carefully penned a note in her most delicate handwriting.

My lord,

I find myself quite overwhelmed by your attentions this evening, but I confess they are not entirely unwelcome.

If you would care to meet me privately in thirty minutes in the gazebo by the rose garden, I would be most pleased.

Please take care to leave the drawing room first—I will follow after a suitable interval, as my reputation depends upon discretion.

Charlotte

She only hoped North Toad was too lust-driven and egocentric to doubt the authenticity of the note.

Lady Payne’s voice rang out across the drawing room, calling for attention as the evening’s entertainment was about to begin. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to take your seats, we shall commence with our musicale.”

The guests arranged themselves in neat rows of chairs.

The program would begin with the well-bred young ladies demonstrating their musical accomplishments—a series of tentative pianoforte pieces and nervous vocal performances that served more as marriage advertisements than artistic expressions.

Lady Payne herself would conclude the first act with a more sophisticated piece, after which professional musicians would take over for the second half, culminating in Miss Charlotte’s performance.

Leila deliberately chose a seat in the back row, positioned to observe the entire room while remaining inconspicuous. As the first strains of the violin began, she caught the eye of a passing footman and subtly waved him over.

“Would you be so kind as to deliver this note discreetly?” she murmured, pressing a coin into his palm along with the folded paper. “To Lord North…” She almost called him North Toad —“folk, when the opportunity arises.”

“Do you mean the Earl of Norfolk?” the footman inquired. Ah, that’s his name.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

The servant bowed and melted away into the shadows along the walls.

Leila forced herself to appear attentive to the musical performance while every nerve in her body remained focused on Norfolk’s reaction.

She didn’t have to wait long. During a particularly enthusiastic but wildly off-key performance of a Handel piece, she saw the footman approach Norfolk’s chair and quietly present the note.

The lord’s thick fingers unfolded the cream paper, and Leila watched as his pale eyes widened slightly while he read her carefully crafted words.