Grasping a candle in her hand, she entered the Duchess’s bedchamber, casting a quick glance around the vast room.
Unlike most of the estate, the Duchess had chosen to remove the aging wainscoting and replaced it with crimson damask wall panels. The ceiling was molded and trimmed with gilt, and in the center a cut glass chandelier reflected the candlelight with a shimmering beauty. Set near the white marble fireplace, the four-poster bed was draped in emerald-green velvet that matched the cushions on the gilt gesso chairs.
Despite the air of emptiness, the chamber was kept ruthlessly clean, reminding Leonida that a servant might enter at any moment. The quicker she finished her search, the better.
The question was…where to begin?
Beyond the fabulous gilt-framed pictures by Gainsborough and Reynolds that could all possibly cover a hidden safe, there was a pair of mahogany cabinets, a rosewood writing table and a French marquetry pedestal bureau.
And she had not yet entered the private parlor that was just beyond the connecting door.
With a sigh, she moved toward the writing table. Surely it was the most obvious place to begin her search?
Obvious, but fruitless, she soon discovered, finding nothing more than the usual items. Parchment, quills, ink, wax and the Duchess’s formal seal.
“Mon Dieu. Where can they be?” she muttered.
She was just moving to the pedestal bureau when the door to the room was pressed open and Sophy was waving a frantic hand.
“The Duke is coming up the stairs,” she hissed. “You must hurry.”
Muttering a curse, Leonida raced across the room, shutting the door behind her. Then, grasping Sophy’s arm, she hurried them both toward her chambers.
“Why does the aggravating man not leave me in peace?” she hissed, as aggravated by the joyful leap of her heart as by his untimely approach.
Sophy snorted, casting Leonida a knowing glance. “Aye, I wonder.”
Leonida blushed. “He is suspicious of my presence in Surrey.”
“Why would he be suspicious?”
“He seems to believe I am here to lure his brother into some plot devised by the Emperor.”
“Ah.” Sophy nodded. “Well, the rumors were that Lord Summerville did put himself at risk on a number of occasions for the Czar Alexander. Perhaps the Duke has cause to worry.”
Leonida’s lips twisted. “If Alexander Pavlovich desires Lord Summerville’s assistance I would be the last person he would send. He rarely even recalls that I exist.”
“Such a man has much on his mind,” Sophy murmured.
Of course he did. Alexander Pavlovich carried the weight of a vast empire upon his shoulders. But that did not lessen Leonida’s sense of abandonment when months, even years passed without a word from the Emperor.
Perhaps it would not have been so noticeable if her mother had been a more…affectionate parent.
Oh, Nadia loved Leonida, but she had no interest in raising a child. Not when she could be devoting her attention to ensuring her place as a leader among society or dabbling in the dangerous games of politics as she sought to protect Alexander Pavlovich’s throne by whatever means necessary.
As a result, Leonida had been raised by her English nurse and a series of governesses who rarely remained more than a few months.
Was it any wonder that she had never truly felt important to anyone?
“Yes, well, we all have a great deal on our minds,” she muttered, pulling Sophy into her parlor and closing the door.
Then, as if she could truly avoid the impending encounter, she continued on to her bedchamber, crossing the floor to stare out the window.
“Do you want me to inform the Duke you’re not receiving?” Sophy asked softly.
Leonida wrapped her arms around her waist. “You are welcome to make the attempt.”
She kept her gaze trained on the distant lake that reflected the fading sunset in muted hues of pink and violet. The beauty spread before her, however, went unnoted as the sound of Sophy’s raised voice echoed through the air, followed by Stefan’s low, composed response.
A grim smile touched her lips as Sophy continued to squabble. The maid was a ferocious protector of Leonida, but she was no match for the Duke of Huntley. He might hide his ruthlessness behind a quiet charm, but it made him no less perilous.
Indeed, he was by far the most dangerous gentleman she had ever encountered.
At last, Sophy fell silent, her anger turned aside by Stefan’s calm, unyielding determination. There was the sound of shuffling feet, then a door closing. Leonida remained poised at the window, a tingle of excitement inching down her spine as Stefan’s spicy male scent filled the room.
“I thought we had put an end to your little games, my dove,” he drawled, his footsteps coming ever closer.
“Games?”
His slender fingers closed around her upper arms, forcing her around to meet his smoldering gaze. “You cannot avoid me.”
“Obviously not,” she snapped, refusing to acknowledge the thrill of pleasure that darted through her body. “What have you done with Sophy?”
His gaze seared over her stubborn expression. “I requested that she join the other servants so she could enjoy her dinner. It hardly seems fair that she should suffer because her mistress is a coward.”
“I am not a coward, I am simply tired. And since you are so concerned for my maid’s welfare I assure you that I requested that two trays be sent up, so there was no fear she would be sent to bed hungry.”
His lips curled into a humorless smile. “Ah yes, the trays.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not now. I informed Cook that she need not bother since you would be joining Lady Summerville and myself in the dining room.”
“Are you so high-handed with all your guests?”
His fingers skimmed over her lips, which had thinned in annoyance. “Only those who insist on being unreasonable.”
She struggled to breathe. His dark, compelling beauty was overwhelming. Irresistible.
“It is hardly unreasonable to desire a quiet evening.”
“It is when I want your companionship,” he countered, his fingers stroking the line of her jaw.
“And because you are a duke you always get what you want?”
His smile widened with genuine humor. “I always get what I want because I refuse to accept anything less.”
She licked her dry lips, then swiftly wished she hadn’t when his eyes flared with a raw desire that made her heart leap.
“You cannot force me to come down to dinner.”
“Actually I could,” he mocked. “But if you insist on eating in your bedchamber then I will simply join you.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot join me.”
“Why not?”
“It would cause a scandal.”
“A scandal for you, perhaps, but as you so recently pointed out, I am a duke and there is precious little that can tarnish my very old and very respected title.” He paused as she shivered, glancing down at her amber silk gown over a silver gauze underskirt.