Page 22 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

G ideon carefully undid her restraints, and she immediately rubbed her wrists.

“I give you only one warning,” he said, already second-guessing his decision to trust her. “If you try to run or betray me in any way, I won’t be this generous next time.”

“This was you being generous?” She showed him her pinkened wrists, and he stifled a grimace. He hadn’t tied the curtain cords too tightly—just enough to prevent her escape. But her pink wrists were the result of her struggle against the restraints; not that he could blame her.

He refused to show that her pain affected him, though. So he said, “Absolutely.”

“Very well.” She stood up. “But before we go anywhere, I need to change out of this gown. I can’t ride in it, and I can barely walk in it without tripping.”

He nodded. “What do you need?”

She frowned in thought, looking down at her clothes and then at his. “Something similar to what you’re wearing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to wear breeches?”

“Is that what it’s called? In my country, both women and men wear salvar. They look far more comfortable than your…” She paused. “Breeches. At least they’re not the millions of skirts that your women wear.”

“Fine,” Gideon agreed. “I will get you breeches, although they won’t fit perfectly. Anything else?”

She contemplated his clothing for a moment. “Anything else I’d need to be comfortable in… breeches.”

A few minutes later, after Gideon had fetched her a stable boy’s washed and pressed clothing—breeches, a shirt, a cloak, and a hat—they mounted a single horse, as Gideon would not let her gallop away unattended, and rode toward the outskirts of town.

He sat behind her, his thighs flanking hers, one arm wrapped around her middle while the other held the reins.

Her back pressed against his chest and belly, and though her hair was braided, a few strands still whipped him in the face.

Was he mad to trust her?

Something in him did trust her, against all logic and experience. Perhaps he was wrong to believe her, to let his feelings for her jeopardize his revenge for his wife’s and daughters’ murders.

The thought sent a stab of guilt through his chest. Sarah and their little girls’ faces flashed before his eyes, as they did every night in his dreams, but they were fainter now. He barely remembered what they looked like.

He had sworn on their graves that he would find every member of the Brotherhood and make them pay. And yet here he was, allowing Leila to potentially deceive him and lead him into a trap.

He could see she was desperate; that much was true. He believed she cared for her brother. The distress in her eyes was real when she spoke of him.

But beyond that, he couldn’t identify where the truth ended and the lies began. He needed to be careful.

But what else did he have? He had exhausted his list of Brotherhood members.

He had killed everyone he’d identified and had asked all of them for the names of other members or the name of their leader.

Some relented, but no one led him to the Cardinal.

Now he had one single chance to finally reach him.

He wasn’t going to pass on that opportunity.

Time was running out.

The thief-taker had been right. If Leila was sent to kill him, even though she denied it, that meant the Cardinal was onto him.

Norfolk had suspected his identity as well. He had left the drawing room at the musicale only when Gideon was preoccupied, dancing with Leila. His mistake was assuming Gideon was too engrossed with her to notice his disappearance.

If that was the case, it meant more people knew his identity as the Erebus. And that meant only one thing: he would soon be hunted.

This woman—this petite, fiery woman with a dark mane of hair and intelligent eyes—was the only one who could help him gain the upper hand. If she was telling the truth.

If she was lying, however… well, at least it would all be over soon.

He was tired. Bone-deep, soul-weary tired. He wouldn’t be able to keep hunting the Brotherhood for decades. The constant vigilance, the careful planning, the weight of carrying his grief and rage—it was consuming him from the inside out.

He was already forty-two, and he knew he couldn’t keep up with the vigilant, violent lifestyle for much longer.

It was time to end it all.

Perhaps if he gained her trust by saving her brother, she would uphold her end of the bargain and reveal the full truth about herself.

He was fairly certain that, even if what she said about swindling money from charities was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. She had tried to kill him more than once.

But she had failed, and he liked to believe it was because she had developed feelings for him as well. The kiss had been real; he was sure of it. The way she had melted into his body and the soft sound she made when he pulled her closer—those couldn’t be fabricated.

“Are you certain about the location?” he asked, leaning close to her ear.

She turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing against his jaw, sending a warm sensation through him. “No, not really. But that’s the only option I know of.”

At least that answer sounded truthful.

As they reached the outskirts of town, the buildings became sparser, and the streets less maintained. Until finally, they were surrounded by nothing but vegetation, trees, and empty dirt roads.

“Stop here,” Leila said, her voice cutting through the steady rhythm of hoofbeats. Gideon pulled on the reins, and the horse responded immediately to his command, snorting softly, its breath visible in the cool morning air.

Leila dismounted in one fluid motion, her movements reflecting years spent riding astride rather than the delicate sidesaddle expected of ladies.

There was nothing delicate about Leila when necessity called—another indication that she was far more than she appeared to be, Gideon thought as he swung down from his own saddle.

He tied the horse’s reins to a sturdy oak branch, leaving the animal to graze on the sparse grass that grew in patches between the trees. The forest around them was eerily quiet, as if even the birds sensed the tension crackling between him and his companion.

They walked in complete silence for several minutes, Gideon’s instincts cataloging every shadow, every rustle of leaves, and every potential threat.

Leila stopped abruptly and pointed ahead through the dense canopy of branches. “Do you see that gray building hiding among the trees? That’s it.”

Gideon squinted, following her gesture until he spotted the structure she indicated. The building appeared dilapidated, its gray stone walls stained with age and weather. Several windows on the upper floors were boarded up. It looked abandoned, forgotten.

“I thought you said your brother lives under the Cardinal’s roof,” Gideon said. The building before them looked barely capable of sheltering stray cats, let alone serving as a prison for someone the Cardinal valued as leverage.

Leila nodded, but he noticed the slight tension in her shoulders.

“Usually, yes. But when I am on assignment, they hide him so I don’t run off and try to find him.

” That didn’t make much sense. Unless the Cardinal’s place was less guarded than this den—and unless she knew exactly where the Cardinal lived.

She paused, and when she continued, her voice carried a note of uncertainty that suggested either genuine fear or exceptional acting.

“This is just one building I noticed them stop at on the way to London. I don’t know if he’s in there, like I told you.

But this is my best guess. And if he’s not in there, perhaps some other men are who can help us identify where he is kept. ”

Gideon nodded. He continued watching the building with deep skepticism, searching for signs of habitation, for the telltale indicators that would suggest this was more than an elaborate ruse.

It could be a lair of some kind—he’d seen similar setups during his years of covert operations.

He doubted they would find Leila’s brother there, but perhaps she was right.

Maybe they would find something else valuable: intelligence, documents, or prisoners who could provide information about the Cardinal’s network.

Even as he thought it, he didn’t believe it.

The place seemed genuinely deserted. A couple of guards were positioned outside—he could see them through the trees, laughing, conversing, and drinking from their flasks with the nonchalance of men who expected no real trouble.

There were no signs of the infrastructure needed to maintain prisoners, no evidence of the kind of security the Cardinal would surely employ for something truly valuable.

However, Gideon knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving.

This place might have a secret entrance leading to an entire world underground.

He had once watched a similar, unassuming tower, where an innocent-looking exterior concealed a very comfortable house inside.

It wasn’t too far from here—a safe house that was now deserted, formerly the residence of the man Gideon had framed for his own murders.

That man had since escaped the gallows with his princess wife.

“If they were keeping your brother there, wouldn’t it be more heavily guarded?” he asked, voicing only part of his suspicions.

“Perhaps not,” Leila replied, though he could hear the uncertainty threading through her voice. “Not for one adolescent boy. They wouldn’t expect anyone to come for him.”

Or it’s a trap, he thought grimly. Instead, he waited, watching Leila carefully. If this entire expedition was orchestrated by her to lead him into an ambush, she would likely suggest the approach, guiding him toward whatever killing ground had been prepared.

But she remained silent, staring at the building with what seemed to be genuine anxiety.

Interesting.

“Let’s circle the building and see if there’s an easy entry point,” Gideon finally said, deciding to test her further.