Page 3 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

“You are very kind. Though it takes great effort to appear so. I must think before I speak, consider my next step before I move, check if anyone else is drinking before I take a sip, wondering if I am breaking some unknown rule and offending the hosts. It’s rather like learning a new dance and making sure not to step on any toes. ”

“I don’t see anyone minding,” he said honestly.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Perhaps we will have to wait and see.”

“Hm…” he grunted. “Are you planning to deliberately step on someone’s toes?”

“Never!” She bit her lip, a grin on her face. She was so animated that it was as if the very air around her came to life, drawing him closer.

Gideon was the opposite. He was like an iceberg—calm, contained… cold. And if he were like ice, she was like fire. And like fire, she was bound to melt him into nothing.

Perhaps he should have stayed away.

He couldn’t help but step closer.

“Only if it helps my cause,” she added after a brief pause.

“What is your cause?”

She stood a little straighter and licked her lips, as if preparing to recite a poem in front of an entire class. No doubt, she had memorized this part for the role she had to play as a diplomat’s wife.

She’s somebody else’s wife, he reminded himself.

“I’m here on a mission, actually. To raise support for an orphanage near my home.

You see, children are often taken from different countries and brought to Smyrna.

Being a port city, many lost souls end up there, but these poor children don’t speak our language and have no way to find their families again.

I am certain London faces a similar problem.

Yet, as the center of the trade network, Smyrna bears the brunt of it. ”

Usually, when people spoke of charities, Gideon’s ears perked up.

There were individuals—people he was seeking—nay, people he hunted—who used various charities to swindle money from well-meaning donors for their own nefarious purposes.

Norfolk was one of those men, perhaps the most important of them all.

Because of this, Gideon trusted only a handful of charities in England. The rest he regarded with skepticism.

But there was such passion in Lady Leila’s voice that he couldn’t help but be drawn to her story.

Somehow, it made her extraordinarily beautiful.

“A noble mission. I can see why it moves you.”

She lowered her eyes, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. For just a moment, her composure seemed to slip, revealing something deeper in her gaze—a vulnerability, perhaps even pain.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Something felt off.

Again.

Still?

Gideon raised his head, only to catch Norfolk staring at him. What did the man want?

Was Norfolk watching Gideon? Did he know he was on Gideon’s list?

Gideon stared back, and Norfolk quickly averted his gaze.

He had never shown direct apprehension toward him before.

Or was he watching Lady Leila?

She was young, beautiful, and different—a novelty. No wonder everyone’s eyes were drawn to her.

But there was something else in Norfolk’s eyes that Gideon couldn’t quite comprehend, and it unsettled him. If he were indeed watching the lady from Smyrna, it didn’t bode well.

Was she in danger?

Was she the danger?

She looked up at him then, her mask back in place—calm, poised, with a coquettish light lingering in her eyes. The brief vulnerability and uncertainty had vanished as if they had never existed.

She was a mystery.

A mystery he wished he could uncover. Why he was drawn to her, though, was a mystery in itself.

He felt ensnared by her gaze, as if some invisible thread connected them.

The noise of the party seemed to fade away, leaving only her voice, her scent, and the way the candlelight danced across her features.

He had the strangest sensation that he was under some kind of enchantment—but rather than frighten him, it filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

“I believe we all have a duty to help those who cannot help themselves,” she said lightly.

“My privilege and ability to travel help me spread the word to far corners of the world, but they also fill me with… knowledge, I suppose. I learn from different cultures, and I enjoy that immensely. Do you travel?”

Gideon’s nose twitched. “I used to. But not for the most noble of causes, unfortunately. I scoured many places as part of the military.”

“A soldier?” she asked, tilting her head. “I suppose a war can be noble if one is protecting one’s home.”

He swallowed, regretting bringing up the topic. He hadn’t told anyone about this. He was surprised at himself for allowing her to pry this much out of him without even trying.

“It wasn’t one of those,” he finally said.

He wasn’t going to explain further, and as if sensing his unease, she changed the subject.

“Well, I am certain you support a myriad of noble causes now, as a lord in Parliament.”

“I do.” He nodded, relieved to be on safer ground once more.

She glanced at his glass of wine and licked her lips. “I am quite parched. Where can I get something to drink?”

“Apologies for my poor manners.” Gideon gestured to a passing footman, took a glass from the tray, and handed it to her.

She gratefully accepted it and immediately took a sip.

Gideon found himself watching the elegant curve of her throat as she swallowed. Everything about her seemed designed to entrance him—the way she moved, spoke, and even breathed cast a spell over him.

“I have to admit I am not very knowledgeable in political matters. I mostly interact with women, and I’ve found English ladies to be very generous in spirit.” She tilted her head slightly, then added, “Do you have a wife, Your Grace?”

And just like that, the world that had practically melted and swam around Lady Leila snapped back into focus.

Whatever sorcery she had performed seemed to have lost its hold on him.

Do you have a wife?

I used to.

His tone cooled. “No.”

“Oh. Forgive me if my question was rude. I did not mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” he lied, suddenly feeling the urge to flee. Yet he remained still.

It would be rude to leave. It would be unwise to stay.

She took another sip of wine and then coughed lightly, as if choking on it. “Pardon me, were we supposed to toast? I keep forgetting.”

“No, it’s not necessary.”

“But I learned it is a tradition—to toast to new… ac-quain-tance-ship,” she said slowly, laughing at herself. “Pardon, some words are difficult.”

“No need to apologize, and no need for a toast—”

“But I insist!” She clinked her glass to his, tilting hers deliberately. A bit of her wine spilled into his.

His skin prickled at the back of his neck again. A warning.

Danger.

Were his senses warning him about the woman before him… or something else?

He glanced toward the spot where Norfolk had stood, but he was gone. Gideon’s gaze shifted, and he spotted a couple returning to the ballroom, giggling as they did so—Mr. Townsend and Miss Burke.

Near the back, Vivienne whispered within the circle of her friends, their gazes caressing Gideon like a physical touch.

He had lingered too long. It was past time for him to leave.

“It’s customary,” Lady Leila said, drawing his attention back to her, “to clink glasses before drinking. This tradition was meant to discourage poisoning, you see. The idea was that if either cup contained poison, both parties would share the same fate.”

“Really?” Gideon asked dispassionately, setting his glass on a nearby table without drinking. “I heard it was to dispel ghosts.”

She pointedly glanced at his untouched glass. “And you’re fond of ghosts, I presume?”

He shrugged. “I’ve lived with them for fifteen years.”

Her brows lifted slightly.

“If you seek support for your charitable endeavors,” he replied, his tone clipped now, “you should speak with the Duchess of Kensington. I’m sure she will point you in the right direction.” He inclined his head. “Excuse me.”

“Your Grace—” she attempted to stop him, but he turned and walked away.

The prickling sensation intensified, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. What was that?

Perhaps it was just his own unease, the anxiety of lingering too long. Or was it the persistent thought that everyone in the ballroom had a reason to mean him harm?

Or did it have something to do with the mysterious woman who had enthralled him so?

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what caused his unease. It was past time for him to leave.

Gideon reached the entrance hall and waved the butler over to help him into his coat. But before the man could finish tugging it over Gideon’s shoulders, he paused mid-motion, startled by a distant, blood-curdling scream that shattered the air from somewhere upstairs.

Gideon stepped away from the stunned butler and shrugged into the coat himself.

He buttoned it and took his hat from the butler’s slack fingers just as the sound of footsteps echoed toward the hall.

“Good evening,” Gideon said evenly, tipping his hat, then slipped out the door as the curious crowd flooded the stairs.

He stepped into the London night and took a deep breath of cool spring air, forcing thoughts of Lady Leila from his mind. He whistled for his driver, and his carriage rolled toward him.

He wasn’t attending the balls to flirt with ladies or find tryst partners.

His carriage stopped before him, and he climbed inside after instructing the driver to hurry home.

Lady Leila had her own mission, and he had his.

As the wheels turned and the carriage lurched into motion, Gideon pulled a small leather-bound notebook from his inner coat pocket and flipped it open beneath the dim glow of the carriage lamp.

His fingers moved quickly, thumbing through pages filled with neat entries—each dated and packed with lines of daily tasks, appointments, and obligations.

He turned to the last inscribed page, where today’s date was scrawled at the top.

Gideon retrieved a pencil from his coat pocket and pressed it between his teeth as he ran his finger down the list of crossed-out items:

Solicitor meeting regarding the sale of unentailed estates

Tailor

Luncheon with Lord Ainsley re: the criminal reform draft

Make revisions to the education petition

Schedule a reading of the Protestant tolerance brief in the Lords next week

Hardgrove Ball

Every item on the day’s list had been neatly crossed out.

Except for one.

Gideon stared at it for a moment.

Then, he plucked the pencil from his mouth and drew a single line through it.

Lord Wrexham

Then he shut the book with an audible snap.