A slow, tantalising smile curved Stefan’s lips. “I desire you to feel welcome at Meadowland.”

Leonida’s mouth went dry, reminding her that there was more than one danger in residing beneath the same roof as the Duke of Huntley.

Without warning he reached to brush a finger down her cheek. “I wonder if that blush is real. Are you as innocent as you appear to be?”

“Your Grace.”

Prowling forward, the Duke did not halt until he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her gown.

“My name is Stefan.” He reached to grasp the post just above her head, his brooding gaze trained on her lips. “Say it.”

“Stefan,” she breathed.

His head dipped down to stroke his lips over the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.

“Beautiful.” He gently nipped her skin, his hand skimming up the curve of her waist.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked huskily.

“Because I must know.”

“Know what?”

His mouth traced a path of kisses up the line of her throat. “If your skin is as smooth as I have fantasised it to be.” He nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. “If your hair smells of jasmine.” He explored the heated skin of her cheek before hovering just above her mouth. “If your lips taste as sweet as they appear.”

“You must not…”

Her words were halted as he covered her mouth in a fierce, shockingly brazen kiss…

Praise for Rosemary Rogers

“The queen of historical romance.”

—New York Times Book Review

“The grand, sweeping romance filled with passion and adventure rides again as one of love’s leading ladies, Rosemary Rogers, whisks us into a tale of daring passion.”

—RT BOOK reviews on A Daring Passion

“Returning to her roots with a story filled with family secrets, politics, adventure and simmering passion, Rosemary Rogers delivers what fans have been waiting for.”

—RT BOOK reviews on An Honourable Man

“Her novels are filled with adventure, excitement and…wildly tempestuous romance.”

—Fort Worth Star-Telegram

“This is exactly what her many fans crave, and Rogers serves it up with a polished flair.”

—Booklist on A Reckless Encounter

“Ms Rogers writes exciting, romantic stories…with strong-willed characters, explosive sexual situations, tenderness and love.”

—Dayton News

“Her name brings smiles to all who love love.”

—Ocala Star-Banner

Bound By Love

By

Rosemary Rogers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times bestselling author Rosemary Rogers has written over twenty historical and contemporary romances. Dubbed ‘the queen of historical romance,’ she is best known for her passionate and sensual characters, and her Steve-and-Ginny series is a classic with fans. Born in Ceylon, Rosemary now lives in Connecticut.

Available from Rosemary Rogers and Mills & Boon

A RECKLESS ENCOUNTER

AN HONOURABLE MAN

RETURN TO ME

JEWEL OF MY HEART

SAPPHIRE

A DARING PASSION

SCANDALOUS DECEPTION

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Praise

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

1821

St. Petersburg, Russia

COUNTESS NADIA KARKOFF’S house just off the Nevsky Prospect was not the largest mansion in the neighborhood, but it was by far the most luxurious.

In the finest tradition, the facade was designed along sleek, classical lines with a great number of windows and a wide, columned terrace. From the roof, Greek statues overlooked the upper balustrade with cold expressions of superiority. Or perhaps they were revealing their disapproval of the large gardens that surrounded the house. There was nothing classical about the brilliant profusion of flowers and ornamental shrubs and marble fountains that the Russian aristocracy adored.

The interior was equally elegant, with large rooms and soaring ceilings that were decorated in rich golds and crimsons and sapphires. Lush colors that created a sense of warmth during the long, dreary months of winter.

The furnishings were a mixture of satinwood and cherry, the style more French than Russian as suited the Countess’s current fancy and contrasted nicely with the dark, brooding paintings by Flemish masters. Only the jewel-encrusted ornaments and jade figurines scattered through the rooms were entirely native.

It was the view, however, that was the crowning glory of the house.

From the upper windows it was possible to admire the churches and lavish palaces, with their glittering spires and golden domes, that adorned St. Petersburg. The stunning panorama allowed one to appreciate the beauty of the city without sensing the brittle tensions that ran rampant through the busy streets.

Having lived her entire two and twenty years in the house, Miss Leonida Karkoff offered only a brief admiring glance out the window of her bedchamber, more pleased with the late-spring sunlight than the familiar landscape.

Moving to seat herself before the mirrored dresser, she allowed her maid, Sophy, to smooth her long, golden tresses into a complicated knot atop her head, leaving a few curls to brush her temple. The severe style complemented the perfect oval of her alabaster skin, emphasizing her delicate bone structure and the startling blue of her heavily lashed eyes.

She would never possess her mother’s dark, smoldering beauty, but she had always been considered quite pretty, and perhaps more importantly, her golden hair and clear blue eyes so closely resembled her father that there could be no mistaking her parentage.

Rather an odd circumstance considering that for all practical purposes she was a bastard.

Oh, Count Karkoff willingly claimed her as his child. And he was indeed married to her mother when she was born, which made Leonida entirely legitimate in the eyes of society. But there were few in all of Russia, and perhaps beyond, who did not know that her mother had been involved in a torrid affair with Alexander Pavlovich, the Emperor, when she had been hurriedly wed to the Count. Or that the Count had suddenly come into enough rubles to restore his crumbling estate outside of Moscow, an estate he rarely left, while the Countess was gifted with this lovely house and a large enough allowance to keep her in elegant style.

It was one of those secrets that was known by all, but spoken by no one, and while Alexander Pavlovich did occasionally send an invitation to Leonida to visit him when he was in St. Petersburg, he was more a vague, benevolent figure that drifted in and out of her life than a parental figure.

Not that she desired any additional parental figures, she ruefully acknowledged as her mother swept into the room, her lush form swathed in cherry gauze over a slip of silver satin with matching silver ribbons in her dark, glossy curls.

Her beauty was as dramatic as her entrance, although it was rather ruined by her grimace as her dark eyes glanced about the blue and ivory damask that Leonida had insisted be used for her private chambers.

Nadia Karkoff would never comprehend Leonida’s preference for simplicity.

“Mother.” Leonida turned on her seat to regard the Countess in wary surprise. There was never a doubt that the two loved one another deeply, but Nadia possessed a ruthless will and a habit of squashing anything that might stand in her path. Including Leonida. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“Sophy, I will speak with my daughter alone,” Nadia announced.

The plump maid, who was the daughter of Leonida’s English nurse, bobbed a curtsy, sending Leonida a covert wink. She was all too accustomed to Nadia’s love of melodrama to take offense.

“Of course.”

Waiting until the maid had left the room and closed the door behind her, Leonida rose from her chair and squared her shoulders.

It was always better to face the Countess on her feet.

Not that she was any less likely to be bowled over.

“Has something occurred?” she demanded bluntly.

Now that she had her daughter alone, Nadia appeared oddly reluctant to come to the point. Instead she drifted toward the wide bed canopied with ivory silk.

“Can I not simply desire a private conversation with my daughter?”

“You rarely do,” Leonida murmured. “And never at this hour of the morning.”

Nadia chuckled. “Tell me, ma petite, am I being chided for my indolent habits or for being a less than devoted mother?”

“Neither. I am merely seeking an explanation for this unexpected visit.”

“Mon Dieu.” Nadia plucked the delicate fawn-colored muslin gown from the bed, studying the double row of garnets stitched along the demure neckline. “I wish you would allow my modiste to make your gowns. One could easily be forgiven for mistaking you for a member of the tedious bourgeois rather than a young and beautiful member of Russian nobility. You must think of your position, Leonida.”

It was a familiar argument, and hardly one to lure her mother from her bed at such an early hour.

“As if I am ever allowed to forget,” Leonida muttered.

Nadia turned her dark gaze in Leonida’s direction. “What did you say?”

“I prefer my dressmaker, Mother,” Leonida said, her voice firm. On this subject she would not budge. “She comprehends that my tastes are more modest than other females’.”

“Modest.” Nadia heaved an impatient sigh, her gaze flicking over Leonida’s slender form, which would never possess the seductive softness that most men preferred. “How many occasions must I remind you that a woman in society has no power unless she is wise enough to use what few weapons God has given her?”

“My gown is a weapon?”

“When designed to tantalize a man’s hunger.”

“I prefer warmth to tantalizing,” Leonida retorted with unapologetic honesty. Despite the spring weather that had grudgingly arrived, there was a blazing fire in the white, gold-veined fireplace. She was always cold.

Nadia tossed the dress aside with a shake of her head. “Foolish child. I have done everything possible to ensure your future. You could have your pick of the most influential gentlemen in the empire. You could become a princess if only you would follow my lead.”

“I have told you I have no desire to become a princess. That is your ambition, not mine.”

Without warning, Nadia crossed to stand directly before Leonida, her expression hard.

“That is because you have never known what it is to be without wealth or an established position among society, Leonida. You may sneer at my ambition, but I assure you that your precious pride will swiftly be forgotten if you are impetuous enough to believe you can survive on love. There is nothing charming in being cold during the winter or darning your gowns to hide frayed hems.” Her eyes darkened with remembered pain. “Or being excluded from society.”

“Forgive me, Mother,” she said softly. “It is not that I do not appreciate the sacrifices you have made for me, but…”

“Do you?”

Leonida blinked in confusion at the abrupt interruption. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you appreciate all I have done?”

“Of course.”

Nadia reached to take her hands in a tight grip. “Then you will agree to do what I must ask of you.”

Leonida hastily tugged her hands free. “I love you, Mother, but my appreciation is not without boundaries. I have told you that I will not accept Prince Orvoleski’s proposal. Not only is he old enough to be my father, but he reeks of onions.”

“This has nothing to do with the Prince.”

Leonida’s wariness deepened to outright anxiety. There was something in her mother’s expression that warned her that this was more than just another of the theatrical scenes Nadia adored.

“Something has happened.”

Nadia twisted her hands together, jeweled rings glinting in the morning light.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Instead of answering, Nadia drifted toward the window, the scent of expensive perfume drifting behind her.

“You know a small part of my childhood.”

Confused, Leonida turned to study her mother’s stiff back. Countess Karkoff never discussed her humble beginnings.

Never.

“You have told me that you were raised in Yaroslavl’ before coming to St. Petersburg,” she answered, her words tentative.

“My father possessed distant ties to the Romanovs, but after he argued with Emperor Paul he was too filled with stubborn pride to apologize and he was forever banished from court.” Nadia’s scornful laugh echoed through the room. “Stupid man. We lived in a frozen monstrosity of a house, miles from the nearest village, with only a handful of peasants to keep it from utter ruin. I was buried in the midst of savages with only my nurse to bear me company.”

Leonida’s heart softened with sympathy. This vivacious, extroverted, highly fashionable woman stuck alone in a gloomy old house? It must have seemed like hell to her.

“I cannot imagine you in such a setting,” she breathed.

Nadia shuddered, one hand lifting to stroke the diamond necklace around her neck, as if to reassure herself that her grim memories had not stolen it away.

“It was a misery, but it did teach me that I would do anything to escape,” she rasped harshly. “When my aunt decided it was her duty to invite me to her home, I ignored my father’s threat to disown me. What did he have to offer me beyond years of lonely isolation? Instead I sold my few pieces of jewelry and made my way to St. Petersburg alone.”

Leonida chuckled in admiration. Of course she had. Nothing would be allowed to stand between Nadia and her dreams.

“You are truly amazing, Mother,” she said. “There are few women who would have possessed such courage.”

Nadia slowly turned, a rueful smile touching her lips. “It was more desperation than courage and, had I known I was expected to be more a servant than a guest beneath my aunt’s roof, I am not entirely certain I would have been so eager to endure the grueling journey.”

“I am certain. You have never allowed anything to stand in the path of what you desire.”

Her mother shrugged. “True, but not even my considerable determination would have given me the opportunity to enter society without the assistance of Mira Toryski.”

It took a moment for Leonida to place the name. “The Duchess of Huntley?”

“Her family were neighbors of my aunt,” Nadia explained. “She was already a favorite among society, of course. How could she not be? She was beautiful, wealthy and yet astonishingly kind. I shall never understand why she took pity on me and convinced my aunt to allow me to attend a few of the smaller gatherings, but I shall forever be grateful.”

The Countess’s deep affection for her girlhood friend could not be mistaken. Strange, considering Nadia preferred to surround herself with handsome young officers rather than the ladies of society.

“That is when you met Alexander Pavlovich?”

“Yes.” The dark eyes softened as they always did at the mention of the Emperor. “He was so handsome and charming. I had only to glance at him to know he was a man destined for greatness.”

Leonida resisted the urge to prod for more details of her mother’s relationship with Alexander Pavlovich. There were some questions better not asked.

“This is all very fascinating, Mother, but I do not entirely comprehend what is troubling you.”

Nadia’s hands shook as she smoothed them over the gauze skirt. “I need you to understand my deep affection for Mira.”

“Why?”

“Not long after I came to St. Petersburg Mira was introduced to the Duke of Huntley. She, along with most of the women in society, lost her heart to the handsome Englishman and returned with him to London to be wed.” Nadia grimaced. “I was devastated by the loss of my dearest friend. She was…well, let us just say that my only comfort was exchanging letters so we could continue to be involved in one another’s lives.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Leonida said gently.

“Perhaps, but I was still foolishly young and when Alexander Pavlovich began to make his interest in me known, I was eager to share every detail with Mira.”

If anything, Leonida was only more confused. “From all I have heard, your affair with Czar Alexander was not precisely a closely guarded secret.”

“No.” Nadia shrugged, as always unrepentant at her intimate connection to the Emperor. “Our…relationship was a source of endless gossip, but our private conversations were never intended to be shared. Not even with a dear friend whose loyalty to the Romanovs could never be questioned.”

Leonida stiffened. “You revealed Alexander Pavlovich’s private conversations to the Duchess of Huntley?”

Nadia’s expression became defensive. “I knew she could be trusted and it was not as if I could share my most intimate thoughts with anyone else. There was not a woman in society who was not consumed with jealousy by my relationship with Czar Alexander.”

“As they still are.” Leonida hastily soothed the older woman. She would get nothing out of Nadia if she were pouting. And Leonida had a terrible foreboding she needed to know precisely what was happening. “But you are rarely so indiscreet.”

Nadia was far from appeased. “How could I possibly suspect that anyone beyond the Duchess would ever see them?”

Leonida’s heart stuttered. “Someone else has seen them?”

“I do not need you to point out that I was a reckless idiot. I am painfully aware of my mistakes.”

“Very well.” Leonida sucked in a calming breath. “I presume that these letters hold information that might prove uncomfortable for the Czar?”

“It is much worse than that. In the hands of his enemies they might very well destroy him.”

“Destroy him?” Leonida blinked in shock. “Surely you must be exaggerating?”

“I only wish I were.”

“Mother?”

With a graceful motion, Nadia sat on the brocade window seat, the morning sunlight revealing the shadows beneath her eyes and lines that bracketed her full lips.

It was the first occasion that Leonida could recall her mother actually appearing her age.

That was more frightening than all the melodramatic insinuations of imminent danger.

“Being the leader of the Russian empire is never a simple task,” she said in low tones. “Unrest is always brewing among the citizens, while treachery is a mandatory game for the nobility, but matters have become even more perilous over the past few years. Alexander spends too much time away from his throne as he travels about the world. It gives his enemies encouragement to plot against him.”

“They hardly need encouragement.”

“Perhaps not, but they grow more bold with every passing day.”

Leonida licked her dry lips. “And there is something in the letters that would offer Alexander Pavlovich’s enemies the means to harm him?”

“Yes.”

“What…”

Her mother held up an imperious hand. “Do not ask me, Leonida.”

Leonida’s first instinct was to demand an answer. If she were to be involved in whatever mess her mother had created, she deserved the truth.

Then she wisely swallowed the words hovering on her lips.

She held a great love and respect for Alexander Pavlovich, but she of all people understood he was just a man, with all the failings and frailties of any other. And, in truth, there had always been a melancholy air that shrouded the Emperor, as if he carried with him a deep and painful secret.

Did she truly wish to know what caused him such sorrow?

“Then you must write to the Emperor and warn him of the dangers,” she said briskly. “He will surely wish to return to St. Petersburg.”

“No,” her mother denied sharply.

“You cannot hide the truth, Mother.”

“That is exactly what I must do.”

Leonida frowned, unable to believe her mother could be so selfish.

“You will put Alexander Pavlovich at risk because you do not wish to confess your indiscretion?”

The dark eyes flashed with annoyance. “Mon Dieu. Have you not been paying attention over the past months?”

“You mean the uprising?”

“Alexander is devastated.” Nadia paced across the polished wood floor, her expression tight with unmistakable concern. “He considered the Semyonoffski Regiment the most faithful of all his soldiers and their betrayal has been like a knife in his heart. I fear for him, Leonida. He is so fragile. I am not certain he could bear what he is certain to believe is yet another betrayal.”

“We are all concerned for his welfare, but he is the Emperor,” Leonida pointed out softly. “He must know of any threat to his throne.”

Coming to a halt, Nadia turned to meet Leonida’s gaze with a tilt of her chin.

“I intend to ensure that any threat is brought to an end before Alexander returns.”

“How? If someone has managed to get their hands on the letters you wrote…”

“I am not convinced that anyone has actually seen the letters.”

Leonida lifted her hands to rub her throbbing temples. “You are giving me a headache, Mother. Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Nadia pressed her hands to her stomach as she sought to gain command of her composure.

“Last week a masked man calling himself the Voice of Truth approached me at Count Bernaski’s masquerade. The ridiculous man claimed that he possessed the letters I had written to Mira and that he would make them public unless I agreed to pay him one hundred thousand rubles.”

“One hundred thousand,” Leonida whispered in shock. It was worse, much worse, than she had dreamed possible. “Good lord. We could not possibly pay such a sum.”

“I have no intention of paying so much as a ruble,” Nadia snapped. “Not until I am convinced the bastard truly possesses the letters, which I assure you I am not.”

“Why not?”

“Because as soon as the man turned to leave I motioned for Herrick Gerhardt to have him followed.”

Leonida grimaced. Herrick Gerhardt was Alexander Pavlovich’s closest advisor and the most alarming man she had ever encountered. Nothing escaped his dark, penetrating gaze. And his fierce devotion to the Emperor meant he would willingly destroy any threat without a hint of remorse.

It was impossible to be in his company without fearing you might be hauled to the nearest dungeon.

“Of course,” she muttered.

Nadia shrugged, not nearly so frightened of Gerhardt as she should be.

“This is not the first threat I have endured. My position often attracts those who would hope to use me to influence Alexander Pavlovich.”

Well, her mother was not alone. Leonida was shocked at the many occasions the members of society would approach her in hopes she could sway the Emperor.

As if she had any power. It was ludicrous.

“I assume Herrick managed to follow the man?”

“Yes. His name is Nikolas Babevich. His father is a Russian officer and his mother is—” Nadia gave a delicate shudder “—French. Disgusting people. They are never to be trusted.”

Leonida ignored her mother’s prejudice. Nadia possessed a vivid memory of Napoleon’s invasion and the costly war. “Was he captured?”

“Herrick decided it would be better not to allow the fiend to realize we had discovered his identity.”

Leonida shook her head. Had her mother taken leave of her senses?

“I will be the first to admit that I know very little of government affairs, but if you know who and where this villain is to be discovered then why on earth would you not have him arrested?” Leonida demanded in confusion.

“Because we cannot be certain he is acting alone.”

“Did Herrick at least retrieve your letters?”

“He searched the man’s house, but could find no letters.”

Leonida made a sound of frustration. “They could be anywhere.”

“He is being constantly watched so if he does have them hidden he will eventually lead the guards to the location.”

Leonida realized there was no use in pressing to have the horrid blackmailer arrested. If Herrick had decided to allow the man to remain free, then nothing she said would alter the situation.

Instead she concentrated on her more pressing questions. “Why do you suspect he is lying about having the letters?”

Nadia returned to her pacing, her fingers toying with the large drop diamonds of her necklace. A sure sign she was not nearly so composed as she would have Leonida believe.

“When he first approached me, I demanded that he show them to me. He claimed that he did not have them on his person, so I requested that he reveal precisely what they said. Again he refused, saying that he would offer no proof until I had paid his outrageous sum.”

“That does seem odd. Surely he must realize that anyone with the least amount of sense would demand evidence before paying?”

“Most gentlemen underestimate women. No doubt he assumed I would be so panicked that I would give in to his demands without thinking.” Nadia’s voice revealed her contempt for such stupidity. “And there is something else.”

“What?”

“Mira and I quite often traded secrets, so we devised our own code when we wrote to one another in the event our letters fell into the wrong hands. It was silly and no doubt childishly easy to decipher, but the man said nothing of having managed to translate the words.”

Leonida had to agree that it did sound suspicious. Even assuming the man thought a woman could be so easily culled out of such a large sum of money, he surely would have felt compelled to brag at his cleverness of deciphering the code.

In her experience, gentlemen never lost the opportunity to reveal their utter superiority to women.

“So, if he does not have the letters, how did he discover they exist? And how did he know they might be damaging to Alexander Pavlovich?”

“That is why Herrick allowed him to remain unaware we know his identity,” Nadia explained. “He believes that Nikolas Babevich is merely a pawn being used by others.”

Leonida shuddered, knowing it was more from apprehension rather than the chill of standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing more than her shift and corset.

The thought that there were more enemies seeking to harm her mother was not precisely reassuring.

“Then it seems there is nothing to do but wait until the man leads you to his associates.”

There was a tense silence before her mother halted to stab her with a narrowed gaze.

“Actually, there is a very important task that must be done.”

Leonida took an instinctive step backward. She knew that tone of voice. And it never boded well.

At least not for her.

“I am not certain I wish to know.”

“Someone must travel to England and search the Duke of Huntley’s estate for the letters,” Nadia said, ignoring Leonida’s words of reluctance. Typical. “If they are still there then we can be certain Nikolas Babevich is nothing more than a fraud.”

The shimmering unease in the pit of her stomach became outright panic.

Good lord. She had not seen this coming. Stupid, really. Nadia thought nothing of making the most outrageous demands of her only child.

“But…” She struggled to capture her elusive breath. “If the letters are still hidden in England, how could anyone know of them?”

Nadia shrugged. “Perhaps the current Duke or his brother, Lord Summerville, mentioned seeing them to someone. Edmond was here in St. Petersburg, after all, only a few months ago.”

Leonida seized on the words as if they were her salvation. “Then why not simply write to them and demand the letters back? The Duchess has been dead for years—they could have no interest in your correspondence.”

Nadia gave an impatient wave of her hand. “Because they are first and foremost Englishmen with loyalty to the Prince Regent… Oh, I suppose the hideous man has now become King.” She grimaced. “In any event, it is well known that the portly monarch was not at all pleased by Alexander Pavlovich’s last visit to celebrate the end of the war. If the King knew that those letters contained information that could harm the Emperor, I do not doubt he would demand they be given to him.”

Leonida wanted to argue, but she had heard the rumors of King George’s lingering resentment toward Alexander Pavlovich’s distant manner during his brief visit. Hardly surprising. The two rulers could not be more different.

The Emperor detested gaudy displays and false bravado.

She swiftly sought another excuse to avoid the appalling mission to England.

“One can hardly search the Huntley estate without permission. An English duke must possess an entire battalion of servants. I would not get past the door without being caught.”

Nadia smiled. “You could if you were a welcomed guest.”

“Mother…”

“The arrangements for your journey are being made as we speak,” Nadia interrupted, her tone resolute. “You will leave by the end of the week.”

It was Leonida’s turn to pace the floor, the rising panic making it difficult to think clearly.

“Even if I were willing to agree to this absurd scheme, which I assure you I am not, I could not possibly intrude upon the Duke of Huntley. Not only would it be extremely rude, but he is a bachelor.”

“I have already written to Lord Summerville and his new bride to inform them that Alexander Pavlovich has decided you are in need of a proper introduction to English society. They could not possibly turn you away.”

Dear heavens, this just became worse and worse.

“Does Lord Summerville live with his brother?”

“No, but the King has given the couple Lady Summerville’s previous home, which is less than a mile from Meadowland. No doubt you will often be calling on the Duke.”

Leonida shook her head in disbelief. “So you simply foisted a complete stranger on the newlyweds without regard to how awkward it will be for all of us?”

Nadia’s expression hardened. She had made her decision and nothing Leonida might say would sway her.

“Leonida, not only would I be ruined if those letters are indeed in the hands of my enemies, but Alexander would never be able to withstand the scandal,” she said, her voice harsh with warning. “Not again.”

Not again?

What the devil did that mean?

Leonida’s temper stirred. This was hardly the first occasion her mother had devised some outlandish scheme, but this…

“So you wish me to travel to England, intrude on a newlywed couple who have never met me, sneak into a duke’s well-guarded home and retrieve letters that might or might not be hidden there?”

Her mother did not so much as blink. “Yes.”

Leonida snorted. “Then, supposing I am to accomplish this unlikely feat, what am I to do? Burn the evidence?”

Nadia widened her eyes in shock at the mere notion. “No. I want you to return the letters to me.”

“For God’s sake, Mother. Have they not already caused enough trouble? They have to be destroyed.”

With a flurry of gauze and silk, Nadia crossed to stand directly in front of Leonida.

“Do not be a fool, Leonida. I need them.”

Caught off guard by her mother’s sharp insistence, Leonida frowned. “Why?”

Nadia paused, clearly choosing her words with care. “Alexander Pavlovich has always adored me, and over the years he has been quite…generous to us. But we both know that the Emperor’s brothers have never approved of me or Alexander’s continued support of our small household. If something were to happen, God forbid, I fear we might find ourselves cut out of any inheritance that rightfully should be ours.”

“I do not…” Leonida gasped in shock as realization hit. “Oh, no. You mean to use the letters to extort money from the next czar? Have you gone completely mad?”

Nadia’s lips thinned in annoyance. “One of us must think of the future, Leonida.”

“I am thinking of the future, Mother.” Whirling on her heel, Leonida marched to stare blindly out the window. “I just hope you enjoy the damp prison cell that is no doubt awaiting us.”

CHAPTER TWO

Surrey, England

AT A GLANCE, THE TWIN gentlemen who were currently strolling through the traditional English garden appeared startlingly similar.

Both possessed raven-dark hair that fell onto their wide foreheads in charming disarray. Both possessed the angular, Slavic features of their Russian-born mother. Both were blessed with dark blue eyes that had been sending women into a swoon since they left the cradle. And both had the sort of leanly muscled bodies that were shown to perfection beneath their tailored jackets and buckskins.

A closer study, however, would reveal that the elder twin, Stefan, the current Duke of Huntley, had skin a few shades darker than his brother, Edmond, Lord Summerville. And his shoulders were just a tad broader. A result of the hours spent overseeing his vast farms. Stefan’s features were also a trace more delicate than Edmond’s. Elegant rather than powerful.

The physical differences, however, were nothing in comparison to the differences in personalities.

Edmond had always been a restless soul, or at least he had been until he had wed Brianna Quinn several weeks before, while Stefan was deeply devoted to his estate and the vast number of people who depended upon him. Edmond was charming, swift to anger and frighteningly courageous. He had willingly risked his neck on several occasions during his time as advisor to Alexander Pavlovich.

Stefan, on the other hand, was far more reticent, preferring to remain in the background rather than calling attention to himself. He was also prone to speak the truth rather than offer flattery, which perhaps explained why he was more comfortable in the company of his tenants rather than the aristocrats scattered about the neighborhood.

They both, however, shared a shrewd intelligence and fierce loyalty to each other, as well as those who depended upon them.

It was that loyalty that had brought Edmond to Hillside on this late spring morning.

Strolling through the gardens of Hillside that were being ruthlessly manicured after fifteen years of neglect, he slid a covert glance toward his brother, who was walking silently at his side.

“So, your guest has arrived?” he murmured.

Edmond’s lips twitched; no doubt he easily sensed Stefan’s looming lecture.

“She has.”

Stefan tossed aside any notion of subtlety. It had never been his talent.

“I cannot comprehend why you allow yourself to be taken advantage of by Alexander Pavlovich,” he growled, stepping around a pile of branches that had been cut from the now tidy hedge. “You are not one of his advisors.”

“I have never been an advisor to King George either, but that does not halt him from taking advantage,” Edmond pointed out. “Of either of us.”

Stefan ignored the reminder of King George’s incessant demands. Instead he concentrated on the two women currently entering the garden from the rambling Palladianstyle home.

Brianna was easily recognizable by her vibrant red hair and her swift, rather unladylike stride. In many ways she was as impulsive and reckless as Edmond.

A familiar, fond warmth filled his heart before Stefan was turning his attention to the tiny woman struggling to keep pace with Lady Summerville.

“Is that her?” he demanded.

“Yes. Miss Leonida Karkoff.”

In that moment the woman turned her head and Stefan stumbled to a startled halt.

It was not the female’s beauty.

Well, at least not entirely.

She was lovely. Hair as golden as a morning sunrise, alabaster skin, and a slender form that was currently shown to advantage by her moss-green walking dress that was modestly scooped at the bodice with tiny puff sleeves.

No, it was the unmistakable line of her profile and the potently sweet curve of her lips.

He would bet his last quid her eyes were the color of a summer sky.

“Good God.”

Edmond chuckled. “Lovely, is she not?”

“Lovely, and remarkably familiar.”

“Yes. There is no mistaking her father,” Edmond agreed. “A pity he was already wed to Elizabeth before meeting Leonida’s mother. Nadia would have made a formidable czarina who might have given Alexander Pavlovich the courage he needed to defy the nobles and insist upon the reforms he desired when he was still young.”

“His grandmother would never have allowed him to wed a provincial chit with nothing but beauty and sheer cunning to recommend her.”

Edmond flashed him a wry glance. “Never underestimate a determined woman.”

“Which is why I prefer a more timid female,” Stefan smoothly countered. “Life is much more peaceful.”

Edmond grimaced. “Tedious.”

Stefan returned his attention to the approaching women. “How long does Miss Karkoff intend to linger?”

“She has not revealed her plans.”

No, he did not imagine she had. Or was likely to.

“It hardly makes sense for the Emperor to send her to this remote part of Surrey if he desired her to mix among English society.”

“The London season is at an end.” Edmond’s expression was suddenly sly. “Besides, why toss the lovely Leonida among a crowd of other lovely ladies when she could be the only eligible female within miles of an unwed duke?”

“You think…” Stefan shook his head, not about to fall for such an obvious ploy. “No. Not even Alexander Pavlovich is so lacking in finesse as to blatantly dangle his daughter beneath my nose.”

“Perhaps not, but her mother would.”

“No.”

Edmond arched a raven brow. “Why are you so certain?”

“I am not so isolated that I haven’t heard the usual gossip that trickles from London. From all accounts, the Countess Karkoff has her heart set on nothing less than a prince for her daughter.”

Edmond shrugged. “A wealthy English duke would surely trump a destitute prince from a principality that is little more than a spot on the map.”

“Not if that principality possessed soldiers that Alexander Pavlovich could count loyal to his throne,” Stefan retorted. “I have many things, but no army to lend aid.”

“No, but you do have the ear of the English king. A most powerful ally.”

“A king that has peevishly proclaimed his disapproval toward the Czar.”

Edmond chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. He, better than anyone, understood Stefan’s abhorrence at the thought of being wed for his title.

“Maybe this is Alexander Pavlovich’s attempt to make peace.”

“Then the wench should be in London,” Stefan growled. “I do not doubt she could easily wrap the King about her finger.”

Edmond narrowed his gaze. “Why are you so suspicious of the poor chit?”

“I have not forgotten the last occasion you became involved in Russian affairs.” Stefan frowned. “Both you and Brianna were nearly killed.”

“Hardly Alexander Pavlovich’s fault.”

Stefan could not argue. It had been yet another plot to overthrow the Czar, but of course, it had been Edmond who was tossed directly in the middle of danger.

“Perhaps not, but he is never hesitant to put you at risk for his own cause. I do not wish to see you once again entangled.”

Edmond tossed an arm around his shoulders. “Do not worry, Stefan. Much to my surprise, Leonida is not only charming, but utterly lacking her mother’s ambition and her father’s Machiavellian plotting.”

“Hmm.” Stefan was not so easily convinced, but it was obvious Edmond was not prepared to heed his warnings. It would have to be Stefan’s duty to keep a careful watch on the unwelcomed guest. “Does she at least realize that she is intruding into the privacy of newly weds?”

A wicked humor twinkled in Edmond’s eyes. “You are surely familiar enough with me, Stefan, to know that when I desire to spend time alone with my exquisite wife I allow nothing and no one to stand in my way.”

“True enough,” Stefan was forced to concede. “I cannot recall how many dinners I have attended at Hillside only to find myself shown to the door before I could even finish my port.”

“Someday, my dear brother, you will understand.”

“I believe one Huntley blinded by the agonizing throes of love is quite enough.” His tone was flippant, disguising the dull ache of loneliness that had plagued him over the past year. That was a secret he intended to keep to himself. “Think of our reputation.”

“Should I think of my reputation as a frivolous rake or your reputation as a dull farmer who pays more heed to his cows than to society?” Edmond teased.

“Surely not dull?” Stefan protested. “I have always thought I possessed a small measure of wit.”

“A very large measure of wit. Unfortunately it is rarely on display outside Meadowland. I fear you may become as moldy as your books.”

Stefan pulled away from his brother’s arm, discomfited by the turn of the conversation. He would stab a dagger in his heart before he would allow Edmond to realize just how jealous he was of the happiness he had discovered.

No one deserved it more than Edmond.

“My books are not moldy, and neither am I.”

Edmond’s gaze was searching, perhaps sensing his brother’s unease. “It would not hurt you to practice your social skills.”

“Ah, I begin to understand your devious plot.” Stefan deliberately turned the conversation from himself. “You wish me to keep Miss Karkoff distracted so you can spend more time alone with your bride.”

“My only thought is for you, dearest Stefan.”

Laughing at his brother’s pious tone, Stefan abruptly realized they were no longer alone. A curious tingle inched down his spine as he turned to smile into Brianna’s astonishing green eyes, only grudgingly turning his attention to the woman at her side.

Without warning his breath was wrenched from his lungs as he encountered the clear blue gaze that shimmered with a guileless innocence.

Christ. It was no wonder Alexander Pavlovich had sent this female to do his bidding. Leonida Karkoff was every man’s fantasy. Sweet, untouched purity combined with a golden beauty that stirred a primitive need to sweep her off her feet. Who would not be dazzled by such a vision?

Even Stefan.

It was the sound of Brianna delicately clearing her throat that made Stefan realize he was staring like a damned fool, and with a silent curse at allowing himself to be distracted for even a moment by the dangerous siren, he determinedly returned his gaze to Lady Summerville.

“Good day, Stefan,” she murmured, her smile impish.

“Lovely Brianna.” With a deliberate motion, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. He enjoyed provoking his twin. “As always you brighten my day.”

On cue, Edmond shifted to place a possessive arm around his wife. They both knew that Stefan regarded Brianna as a beloved sister, but some reactions were too instinctive to be denied.

Perhaps that explained why he was so vividly aware of the innocent blue gaze still fixed to his profile, and the enticing scent of jasmine that filled the air.

Instinct.

Thankfully obtuse to Stefan’s uncharacteristic distraction, Edmond waved a slender hand toward his guest.

“Stefan, may I introduce you to Miss Karkoff? Leonida, my brother, the Duke of Huntley.”

With no choice, Stefan grimly ignored the peculiar race of his heart, and turned to watch Miss Karkoff perform an elegant curtsy.

“Your Grace.” Her voice was low, with only a trace of accent to mar her perfect English.

The dip of his head was just short of rude. He would not forget his suspicions.

Not even if Leonida Karkoff did possess the face of an angel.

“I hope you are enjoying your visit to Surrey?” Her smile was dazzling. Of course. Everything about her was dazzling.

“Very much, thank you. Lord and Lady Summerville have been most welcoming and I have discovered a great deal of beauty in the English countryside.”

“It must be a bit tedious in comparison to St. Petersburg. As I recall there is a constant variety of entertainments offered to young and beautiful women.”

She shrugged, drawing attention to the delicate line of her shoulders and the slender neck that was circled by a perfect strand of pearls.

“I prefer the peace,” she countered, a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as if able to sense his distrust. “And to be honest, I am pleased to be in the country where I can truly bask in your summer warmth.”

He curved his lips into a smile, taking her arm to firmly lead her down the paved pathway. Obviously he would have to take greater care if he were not to put her on guard.

“Like a cat?”

She stiffened, as if caught off guard by his touch, then with a smile that was as false as his own, she fell into step beside him.

“Yes, I suppose I do feel rather like a cat,” she said, lifting her face as if enthralled by the warm sunlight. “At home I rarely leave the house without being wrapped in at least a shawl.”

“What a pity to conceal such skin.” Against his will, Stefan’s gaze skimmed over her delicate features. God, but she was beautiful. “It shimmers with the beauty of alabaster in the sun.”

“I am confused, your Grace.”

“And why is that?”

She turned her head to stab him with a penetrating stare. “I understood that your brother was the practiced flirt while you preferred substance to charm.”

“I seem to be referred to as a stodgy bore with depressing frequency of late. I never realized I was so dull.”

“Substance is not dull.”

His brow lifted at her vehement tone. “No?”

“Quite the opposite.” She pinned the stiff smile back on her lips. “Lady Summerville mentioned that you possess the finest library in Surrey.”

“You are interested in books?”

“Far more than my mother approves of, I fear. If I were allowed to have my way, I would spend my evenings curled before a warm fire with a good book rather than attending the seemingly endless gatherings Russian society adores.”

His heart missed a beat. She preferred books to society? No. It had to be a lie. Just a part of the act she performed so well.

“An unusual preference for a young lady.”

“I disagree.”

“Do you?”

“It is more that young ladies are rarely asked what their preference might be.”

His eyes narrowed. Beautiful and clever. Dangerous.

“Touché,” he murmured.

“Forgive me.” She coyly lowered her head. “I am inclined to speak my mind too frankly.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I prefer honesty.” He deliberately emphasized the word. “And to prove my own sincerity I offer you an open invitation to make use of my library during your stay.”

She stumbled, a faint blush touching her cheeks. “That is very kind, your Grace, thank you.”

A rather odd reaction to his offhand invitation. “Not kind, merely sympathetic. For all your claims to enjoy the quiet it cannot be particularly inspiring to have only my brother and Brianna as company. I have spent enough time with the newly weds to know they have a tendency to forget there is anyone else in the room when they are together. You at least should have some means of wiling away the hours.”

“They are very devoted to one another.”

“Besotted.”

Coming to a halt, Stefan turned to discover that Edmond and Brianna were standing near a crumbling fountain. They made a perfect vision of marital bliss, with Brianna’s head nestled against Edmond’s shoulder while his hand stroked tenderly down her back. Stefan, however, did not miss the concerned expression on his brother’s face.

“I find myself quite envious,” Miss Karkoff murmured. “It is not often a woman is allowed to wed for love.”

“And even less often for a gentleman.”

“Truly?”

His shifted his attention to catch her disbelieving expression. “Why are you surprised?”

“I would think that a gentleman with your wealth and position could wed any woman of his choosing.”

“You have lived among the most powerful families in St. Petersburg, Miss Karkoff, you comprehend how treacherous a courtship can be.”

“Treacherous?”

He shrugged. “Accept one invitation to a ball while declining another and you offend half the members of the House of Lords. Speak with one maiden for a moment longer than another and the room buzzes with rumors. And God forbid I request a few friends to Meadowland without including every unwed sister, cousin or passing acquaintance they might possess. To actually propose marriage…

“Yes, it would no doubt cause another War of the Roses,” she said, her voice so smooth it would be easy to miss the mockery. “Very wise to remain unwed and allow each ambitious papa and title-hungry mama to continue dreaming they might capture you for their daughter.”

His smile became genuine. Despite his suspicions, he appreciated quick wits and a refusal to bore him with insincere flattery.

“My thought precisely.”

“No doubt that is why you prefer to avoid society?” Ah, obviously Brianna had been sharing her annoyance with his refusal to accept the endless invitations that arrived each morning.

“One of many reasons.” He paused. “Ah, but perhaps I should keep my less than favorable opinion of society to myself.”

“Why?”

“That is why you have come to England, is it not? To be introduced into English society?”

“I…my mother thought it might be beneficial.”

“But not you?”

“I am here, am I not?” she said, her light tone belied by the stoic set of her expression.

Odd. Had she been compelled to England against her will? Not that it truly mattered. If she intended to involve Edmond in one of the Emperor’s schemes then Stefan intended to have her run out of Surrey.

“So you are. Rather surprising.”

“What is surprising?”

“There are numerous Russian diplomats in London. I would think your mother would prefer for you to be launched into society by a more formal introduction.”

This time she was prepared. Her smile never faltered as she met his gaze squarely.

“My mother is stubborn, but she is no fool. I, alas, did not inherit her ability to be at ease among strangers. She no doubt hopes that by sending me to Lord and Lady Summerville I can make a few acquaintances without causing too much embarrassment.”

“Hmm.”

She arched a golden brow. “Yes?”

“I was just thinking it was rather a stroke of fortune that Edmond decided to wed at such an opportune moment. Otherwise your visit might never have occurred.”

Her magnificent eyes flashed with annoyance at his pointed words. Ridiculously, Stefan found himself pleased to have provoked her first genuine emotion.

“There is no need for you to point out that my visit is…awkward considering that Lord and Lady Summerville have only been wed a few weeks,” she said tartly.

“I am certain you are quite welcome, Miss Karkoff.”

“Are you?”

“Of course.”

Her lips thinned. “I did attempt to convince Mother that it was not entirely appropriate to thrust myself upon his lordship, but she was insistent.”

“And do you always do what your mother commands?”

She turned to regard a nearby rosebush, the sunlight outlining the pure lines of her profile.

“Not always, but family loyalty is a strange and powerful thing, your Grace. Even for a woman who considers herself a sane, rational being.”

He frowned, struck by her low words. Was she confessing that she had been sent by the Emperor?

“Family loyalty?”

“Ah, there you are,” Edmond intruded, stepping next to Stefan with a mysterious smile. “I have convinced Brianna to return to the house, and I am certain she would appreciate your company, Leonida.”

“Of course.” There was no mistaking Miss Karkoff’s relief to be away from Stefan as she offered a hasty dip. “Your Grace.”

“Miss Karkoff.”

Barely waiting for his nod, she spun on her heel and hurried toward the house.

Stefan watched her progress in silence, still churning with a strange mixture of emotions.

Anger, suspicion and, over all, a potent fascination.

Who the devil was Miss Leonida Karkoff?

And why was he suddenly missing the sweet scent of jasmine?

“Could you not even make an effort to charm the poor female?” Edmond drawled.

“I do not trust her,” he retorted, not adding he was also unwillingly captivated by the clever minx. “I think she was deliberately sent here by the Emperor for his own devious purpose.”

“Even if she was, I am quite capable of protecting what is mine.” Edmond’s voice held a hard edge of warning. “For all of Alexander Pavlovich’s faults, he is wise enough to realize what would happen if Brianna was harmed.”

“But do you have the sense to protect yourself?”

Edmond shrugged. “I am learning.”

Stefan smiled, folding his arms across his chest. “So, do you intend to share your announcement?”

“What announcement?”

“I may be dull and unsociable, but I am capable of noticing that you are even more overprotective of your bride than usual.”

Edmond’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mon Dieu. I forget that behind your pretense of being a staid farmer you are far more perceptive than any person I have ever known. Nothing gets past your notice, does it?”

“Very little.”

Edmond snorted, shaking his head. “You are fortunate that neither the King nor Alexander Pavlovich know of your talent. They would never allow you to leave their side.”

“And you are very accomplished at evading an answer,” Stefan retorted.

Edmond grimaced, allowing his deep concern to shimmer in his eyes. “We suspect that Brianna might be increasing but it is very early days yet. We cannot be certain.”

Stefan understood his brother’s unease. Brianna had thought she was increasing once before only to lose the child. It would be hellish to endure yet another loss.

Still, she was young and healthy. It seemed reasonable she would be able to bear her child.

He reached out to clap his brother on the shoulder. “You have my deepest congratulations, brother.”

Edmond nodded, but his gaze was searching. “Do I?”

It took a moment for Stefan to realize his brother was referring to Stefan’s proposal to Brianna months ago.

At the time he had been moved by the knowledge he had failed his childhood friend and that he could make amends by protecting her future. There had also been the comfort of familiarity.

Now he could only be relieved that she had possessed the sense to choose Edmond.

“Never think otherwise,” he assured his brother. “You and Brianna were destined for one another. Besides, I can now hope that any need to wed and produce the proper heir has been removed. Just ensure Brianna has a boy.”

“Matters are out of my hands, I fear.” Edmond’s concern eased and he smiled with wicked amusement. “And besides, you would be a fool to become overly comfortable in your role as bachelor.”

Stefan arched a brow. “And why is that?”

Edmond laughed. “I highly doubt that I am the only one destined to tumble into the clutches of a woman. It is only a matter of time, dear brother.”

CHAPTER THREE

IT TOOK THREE DAYS FOR LEONIDA to acquire the nerve necessary to walk the mile from Hillside to Meadowland.

Stupid, really. She had discovered from Brianna the first day she arrived in Surrey that the Duke of Huntley made a habit of spending his afternoons assisting his tenants and inspecting his vast lands. There had truly been no reason to hesitate so long.

After all, the quicker she found the damnable letters, the quicker she could return to Russia.

She told herself that her reluctance was nothing more than revulsion. She was no prude (how could she be with Nadia as her mother?), but she did draw the line at behaving like a common thief.

Deep inside, however, she knew it was not just her moral outrage that kept her from the inevitable.

No, it had far more to do with her reaction to the Duke of Huntley.

Odd how her entire body had seemed to tingle with excitement the moment he had glanced in her direction. He was stunningly beautiful, of course. But so was his brother and she had felt nothing but gratitude toward Lord Summerville. Well, gratitude and a horrid guilt.

Certainly her heart did not race and her knees feel weak whenever he happened to be near. Nor did she have the unpleasant sensation that his penetrating gaze could see through her flimsy excuses to lay bare her true reason for being in Surrey.

At last she could delay her duty no longer.

Waiting until Brianna had excused herself to rest after luncheon, Leonida quietly slipped through a side door and meandered aimlessly through the gardens. Only when she was certain she could no longer be seen from the house did she slip through the nearest gate and head across the open meadows.

Away from the house she allowed her steps to slow, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight that had made an appearance after the damp morning. Her nurse had told her fascinating stories of England, speaking of her own childhood in a small village in Derbyshire and the lovely countryside. But it was even more charming than Leonida had expected.

It was all so very…green.

Avoiding the various cottages, Leonida entered the thick woods rather than crossing the open fields. Although she did not intend to sneak into Meadowland, she preferred not to have word of her arrival spread throughout the neighborhood. The last thing she needed was the Duke of Huntley rushing home early.

Careful to follow the path, it was not long before she stepped from the trees, her eyes widening as she caught her first sight of Meadowland.

It was not nearly so vast or grand as the palaces in Russia, and even from a distance there was a hint of scruffiness, like a well-worn slipper, but Leonida discovered herself drawn to the rambling mansion.

There was a comforting timelessness to the sturdy stone structure, she decided. With its massive bays, sash windows and carved stone balustrade, it appeared as if it had sprung naturally from the surrounding parklands rather than having been thrust there by man.

She allowed herself a brief moment of silent appreciation before forcing her reluctant feet back into motion. It would be far too easy to give in to the panic fluttering in the back of her mind and flee back to Hillside.

You will not be a coward, Leonida Karkoff.

Pretending a confidence she was far from feeling, she followed the winding, tree-lined path that led past the ivycovered tower gate and, at last, climbed the shallow steps. Not surprisingly one of the double oak doors was pulled open as she crossed the wide terrace. The Duke of Huntley struck her as a gentleman who would inspire complete loyalty among his staff.

Her courage briefly wavered beneath the formidable glare of the thin butler attired in a black-and-gold uniform. The elderly servant made no effort to disguise his dislike at her intrusion, but obviously having been warned by his employer that Leonida had been issued an invitation, he grudgingly led her through the marble foyer that offered a view of the impressive staircase and down a wainscotpaneled hallway to the library.

Opening the door with a bow, the butler disappeared into the bowels of the house, leaving Leonida alone to enter the vast room.

She breathed a sigh of pleasure at the towering shelves soaring two floors toward a ceiling painted with a stunning panorama of the local landscape. Along one wall was a bank of towering windows that overlooked a pretty deer park filled with trees and wildflowers. And at the end was a massive marble fireplace with two wing chairs and a narrow pier table situated before it.

Eventually, her gaze shifted to the heavy walnut desk and matching chair near the windows.

She briefly wavered. Did she dare try to sneak up and search for the Duchess’s private rooms, or did she begin here?

In the end cowardice won the day. The mere thought of trying to slip past an army of servants to intrude into a dead woman’s privacy made her stomach twist with dread.

Besides, it was entirely possible that the Duchess of Huntley used this beautiful room to write her correspondence.

Her decision made, she crossed to the desk and, bending down, she jerked open one of the upper drawers. She grimaced at the sight of the deep pile of papers, realizing this might take more time than she had first assumed.

Dividing her attention between the papers and the door leading to the hallway, she reached the last drawer when the unmistakable sound of footsteps had her slamming it shut and racing toward the nearest shelf, her heart in her throat.

She was blindly studying the leather-bound books when someone entered the room. With a pretense of indifference, she glanced to the side, fully expecting the grim butler to request she take her leave. Instead it was the Duke who stepped over the threshold, his expression hard as he studied her with an unnerving intensity.

Leonida froze. Good lord, he was beautiful. Disturbingly beautiful with his dark, perfectly chiseled features and his muscular body shown to advantage in his blue coat and buckskins.

At the moment his raven curls were tumbled from the wind and his cravat loosened to reveal the strong column of his throat, a testament to his hours in the fields, but his casual appearance only added to his potent attraction.

But it was the relentless intelligence in his dark blue eyes that sent a chill down her spine.

This man was no fool and she sensed he already had suspicions of her arrival in Surrey.

Dangerous.

The silence lasted for several painful heartbeats, then with a smile that did not meet his eyes, he was smoothly moving forward to take her hand and lift it to his lips.

“Miss Karkoff,” he murmured. “My butler informed me I would find you here.”

She tugged her hand from his grasp, unsettled by the tingles of pleasure that raced up her arm.

“I…” She halted to clear the husky fear from her voice. “I did not expect you.”

He arched a brow. “No?”

“Lady Summerville mentioned you spent most afternoons in your fields.”

Something flashed through his eyes. Curiosity? Suspicion? “As a rule, although I do occasionally spend time with my accounts.”

So much for trusting in luck. She would not make that mistake again.

“I hope you do not mind my intrusion, your Grace?”

“Of course not.” He casually leaned a shoulder against the sturdy shelf, his powerful presence filling the room as his gaze slid blatantly over her sprigged muslin gown with tiny satin roses sewn along the scooped bodice. At last he returned his attention to the blush staining her cheeks. “I did invite you to make use of the library. Have you not discovered anything of interest?”

She managed a meaningless smile. She had not spent years among the treacherous Russian society without developing some skill in dissembling.

“I was indulging in my love for browsing. Your collection is quite magnificent.”

“In all fairness I must confess that I inherited a large portion of the collection from my various ancestors, although I do occasionally add a few books.”

She glanced to the wrapped packages sitting on the scrolled satinwood table near the door. She would bet her favorite pearl necklace they held newly arrived books.

“How occasionally?”

“Perhaps occasionally is not quite the proper word,” he conceded, a heart-melting twinkle entering his eyes.

Her stomach quivered. She was too aware of his potent appeal.

“I did not mean to disturb you. I will return…

Without warning, he reached out to grasp her arm and steered her toward the wing chairs.

“Please have a seat, Miss Karkoff. I have requested that Mrs. Slater bring us tea. I believe you will find her seedcake to be the finest in England.”

She briefly debated the odds of making it to the door before he could catch her, only to swiftly dismiss the ludicrous thought.

She had been well and truly cornered, and there was nothing to do but brave it out.

She sank gracefully into one of the chairs and folded her hands in her lap, hoping the penetrating blue eyes did not notice they were shaking.

“Thank you.”

Taking his own seat, the Duke stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle and putting at risk the fine gloss on his Hessians.

“Tell me what you have seen of the house.”

She stiffened. Seen of the house? Mon Dieu. Did he suspect she had come to search Meadowland?

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought perhaps Goodson had given you a tour. He is inordinately proud of the rambling old place and inclined to haul unsuspecting guests from room to room regardless of their boredom.”

“No.” She breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Of course, I did have the opportunity to admire the front foyer and your very fine marble staircase. I can readily understand your butler’s pride.”

“Edmond claims that it shall soon be a shabby ruin if I do not devote myself to renovations.”

“It is hardly a ruin,” she protested, faintly smiling at the lift of his brows. “Although it might be a tiny bit frayed,” she conceded. “Still, it is perfectly understandable you would be reluctant to have the house altered in any way.”

“And why do you believe me to be reluctant?”

“As I recall, you lost your parents at a very young age. It is only to be expected you would cherish their memory, especially within your home.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, as if startled by her words. Strange. From all her discreet inquiries regarding the Duke of Huntley it seemed perfectly obvious to her that he still mourned his parents. Did he believe he kept his pain hidden?

Whatever he might say, however, was halted as the door was opened and a young maid entered carrying a large tray.

“Ah, tea,” he murmured, waving the maid to place the tray on the table set beside Leonida’s chair.

Completing her task, the pretty maid with a mass of brown curls and big brown eyes dipped a curtsy.

“Is there anything else you need, your Grace?”

The Duke’s gaze never wavered from Leonida. “That will be all, Maggie. Thank you.”

The maid left and closed the door behind her.

“If you will pour, Miss Karkoff?” he requested as the maid scurried from the room.

“Certainly.” She reached to arrange the fine Wedgewood china. “Sugar?”

“Just milk.”

Happy to have something to distract herself from his unwavering gaze, Leonida poured the tea and filled two plates with the tiny sandwiches and seedcake.

Unfortunately, he merely set aside the refreshments, continuing to study her as if she were a weed that had dared to stray into his well-tended field.

Sipping her tea, Leonida attempted to appear impervious to his rude stare, allowing her own gaze to travel over the nearby fireplace to the large portrait hung over the mantle.

“Is that a portrait of your parents?”

“Yes, it was done shortly after their marriage.”

She studied the couple, not surprised that the previous Duke was a tall gentleman with dark hair and an air of power visible in the strokes of his handsome face, while the Duchess was a small, slender beauty with the brilliant blue eyes she had blessed on her two sons.

“The Duchess is just as lovely as my mother said she was,” she murmured. “They were dearest friends, you know.”

“So I have heard.”

She sipped her tea, quashing her fierce desire to flee and instead stiffened her backbone. For goodness’ sakes. This was the perfect opportunity to discover the information she needed. Why was she hesitating?

“I am not certain that my mother ever forgave the Duke for stealing away her beloved Mira,” she said, forcing herself to meet that shrewd blue gaze. “Indeed, she confessed her only comfort was writing endless correspondence to the Duchess.”

“She was not alone. As I recall my mother devoted several hours each morning to answering the letters she received.”

“Well, this is a beautiful room for such a task.”

His eyes narrowed. “Actually my mother preferred the private parlor that connected to her bedchamber. It is situated to catch the morning sunlight and she had a perfect view of the lake, which she always loved.”

She silently tucked the information away. She at least now knew she needed to discover a means of searching the Duchess’s private parlor and that it was on the east side of the house.

Enough for now.

“I cannot imagine a room that does not have a lovely view,” she said lightly. “Your parkland is quite magnificent.”

“Somewhat less formal than your Russian gardens, although my mother did insist her rose garden be designed with the memory of the Summer Palace in mind. There are a great number of statues and marble fountains. ”

She glanced toward the windows with their view of the deer park. “While you prefer a less tamed landscape?”

He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Nature is a fine enough artist for me.”

“And yet you spend hours taming your fields.”

She turned back in time to catch the hint of genuine amusement that softened his features.

“So I do, but not, I must point out, for artistic purposes.”

“No, your work is far more important.”

His gaze lowered to linger on her lips. “Take care, Miss Karkoff, or you will quite turn my head.”

Her heart missed a beat and she hastily set aside her cup and shoved a piece of seedcake into her mouth. Anything to distract herself from the heat that suddenly swirled through her body.

“Somehow I doubt that anything or anyone easily turns your head, your Grace,” she at last muttered. “You are very…”

“What?”

“Shrewd.”

“Thus far I am substantive and shrewd.” He smiled, but Leonida detected a faint hint of pique in his voice. “More traits that one desires in a man of business than a gentleman. Perhaps I will not have my head turned after all.”

She lifted her brows in surprise. “You would prefer I think of you as shallow and stupid?”

He caught and held her gaze. “I would prefer handsome and charming.”

For a startling moment, Leonida found herself lost in his stunning eyes, momentarily forgetting her mother’s pleas, the damnable letters and even the suspicion that this man was toying with her much like a cat with a cornered mouse.

Her only thought was that this gentleman stirred sensations in her body that were as shocking as they were delicious. And if they had encountered one another in a Russian drawing room, she would have done everything in her power to try and captivate him.

Abruptly realizing that his expression had become speculative as she gawked at him in silence, Leonida set aside her plate.

“You were correct, your Grace.”

“I was?”

“These are the tastiest seedcakes I have ever eaten.”

“Ah.” His lips twitched. “Tell me, Miss Karkoff, how do matters stand in Russia?”

She blinked at the unexpected question. “I am not certain what you mean.”

“When my brother left St. Petersburg he had just assisted in halting a near rebellion.”

Her lips thinned at the unwelcome reminder of the uprising among the Emperor’s guards. As her mother had so recently pointed out, the politics in Russia were always a murky affair, with a dozen secret societies and foreign powers plotting to overthrow the Czar at any given time, but the betrayal by his own army had been designed to strike Alexander Pavlovich directly in his heart.

“Yes, it was an unfortunate incident.”

“Rather more than unfortunate,” he drawled.

Her chin tilted with offended loyalty. “England is not without a few revolts by the people.”

His smile widened at her sharp tone. “True. I was merely curious about the mood in St. Petersburg.”

“Much as it always is, I suppose.”

“Has the Czar returned from his travels?”

She considered her words, wondering if his interest was merely passing curiosity or something more.

“He had not when I left, although I believe he was expected shortly. The Emperor does not keep me informed of his movements.”

“According to my brother, the Emperor rarely keeps anyone informed of his movements.”

Well, that was true enough. Unfortunately.

“Do you have a specific interest in Czar Alexander?”

The handsome features hardened with an unmistakable warning. “I am very fond of Alexander Pavlovich, but he does possess a habit of putting my brother at risk when it suits his purpose.”

She blinked in confusion. “I understood that Lord Summerville had resigned his position with the Emperor?”

“Yes, he has.”

Was that his suspicion? That she had come to Surrey to lure Lord Summerville back to Russia?

Hastily she was on her feet, hoping to disguise the flood of relief that raced through her.

“I should return to Hillside before Lady Summerville begins to worry.”

“But you have not yet chosen a book,” he protested, rising from the chair to stand at her side.

“Perhaps another day. A woman in Lady Summerville’s condition must not be made anxious.”

“Condition?” His brows lifted. “Did Brianna tell you she is increasing?”

“Not precisely, but it was not difficult to surmise considering.…” She broke off her words, suddenly realizing it was not her place to reveal that poor Brianna spent most mornings battling her nausea.

“So, I am not the only who is shrewd.”

“Hardly shrewd,” she denied. If she had a bit of sense she would never have agreed to her mother’s insane plot. “Goodbye, your Grace.”

With a hasty curtsy, she was heading for the door, not at all surprised that before she could yank the thing open, the Duke’s voice was halting her escape.

Nothing was easy when this man was near.

“I shall see you at dinner, of course.”

Reluctantly she turned, rather disconcerted to discover that he had moved to stand behind his desk.

“Dinner?”

“My brother has very kindly invited me to dine at Hillside.”

Her heart jerked at his words, but she knew it was not from fear. “I see. Then until later, your Grace.”

“A moment, Miss Karkoff,” he murmured, once again halting her escape, bending down to pluck something from the floor.

“Yes?”

Straightening, he held out his hand. “Your hairpin, I believe.”

This time it was fear that made her heart leap and her blood run cold. Damn. How could she have been so careless?

Frozen in place, she frantically searched her mind as he smoothly crossed the room.

“I…it must have fallen out while I was admiring the view,” she managed to croak, her throat dry as she met his brooding gaze.

“No doubt.”

Praying her hand did not tremble, she reached to pluck the diamond hairpin from his outstretched palm.

“Thank you.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

She jumped at the abrupt question. “What?”

“The view. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, I…very much.” Oh lord, she had to get away from that all too knowing gaze. She felt as if he could see into her very soul. “Goodbye, your Grace.”

With that unnerving swiftness he had grasped her hand, lifting it to his lips to caress her knuckles with a slow, intimate kiss.

“À bientôt, my angel.”

LEANING AGAINST THE DOORJAM, Stefan listened to the swish of muslin as Miss Karkoff rushed down the hallway. Just for a moment, he allowed himself to savor the lingering scent of jasmine and the memory of her warm flesh beneath his lips.

Christ. He had never been so aware of a woman. The delicate line of her profile. The lush curve of her mouth. The gentle mounds of her breasts that begged for a man’s touch.

His body didn’t give a damn why she was in Surrey. Only how swiftly he could get her into his bed.

Thrusting aside the dangerous thoughts, Stefan waited for the inevitable arrival of his butler. Goodson had not been pleased by Stefan’s invitation to allow Miss Karkoff to make use of the library. The servant had devoted his life to ensuring that Stefan was protected from even the least disruption.

While he appreciated Goodson’s dedication, Stefan intended to ensure the poor servant put aside his protective nature. At least until he discovered what the blazes Miss Karkoff was plotting.

When Stefan had casually suggested to Miss Karkoff that she visit his library, it had been with a vague hope of earning her gratitude, and perhaps luring her into revealing some hint of her true purpose in Surrey. He had not truly expected her to accept the offer. Not if she were here to sway Edmond into some foolish scheme for the Emperor.

Now he had to wonder if he was mistaken.

Oh, he was still suspicious of the beautiful woman. She was hiding something. He was as certain of that as he was certain that she had been searching his desk before he had so unexpectedly returned home.

But what?

He was brooding on the puzzle when the thin, silver-haired butler silently slid down the hall to stand before him.

“Ah, Goodson.”

The servant offered a bow. “Your Grace?”

“When did Miss Karkoff arrive?”

A sour expression settled on the dignified face. “Precisely at a quarter past one.”

Stefan gave a slow nod. He had arrived back at the house at exactly two o’clock.

“So, she was here some time before I returned.”

“You did say that you had invited her to make use of the library. I hope I did not do wrong to allow her to stay?”

“Not at all.” Stefan absently toyed with the gold signet ring that every Duke of Huntley had worn since the time of Henry the Eighth. “I must say I extended the invitation in the hopes of learning more about the chit, but I did not truly expect her to make an appearance. Now I must reconsider my entire theory.”

Goodson frowned. “I beg pardon, sir?”

“I assumed she had come to Surrey with some ploy to lure my brother into Alexander Pavlovich’s schemes. Now I must wonder…” Stefan shook his head in aggravation. He was not accustomed to anyone being capable of playing him for a fool.

Miss Leonida Karkoff would pay.

And he could think of the sweetest of punishments.

“I shall make certain she is not allowed to cross the threshold again,” Goodson swore, thankfully unaware of Stefan’s erotic thoughts.

“No, Goodson. I wish you to make her feel a welcomed guest whenever she arrives.”

The butler scowled. “Are you certain, your Grace?”

“Quite certain.”

“If you do not trust her, then surely she should not be given the opportunity to cause mischief?”

Stefan’s lips twisted. “I have no genuine reason not to trust her, to be honest. She is most likely precisely what she seems to be. A young Russian noblewoman who is anxious to become acquainted with English society.”

“But?”

“But, in the event she is not, then I desire to know precisely what she is doing here. And the only means to do that is to keep a close eye upon her.”

Goodson clicked his tongue. “So I am to allow her to freely roam about your house?”

“Allow her to roam, but I want a close eye kept upon her,” Stefan corrected. “Just ensure she is not aware that she is being watched.”

“As you wish.”

The servant heaved a heavy sigh, but Stefan was confident that the efficient butler would fulfill the command with his usual efficiency.

Of course, efficiency was not all that the delicate situation demanded.

“Goodson.”

“Yes, your Grace?”

He straightened from the doorjamb, his expression one of warning.

“Be sure that Miss Karkoff has no reason to suspect she is anything but an appreciated guest.”

Goodson dipped his head in ready understanding. “Very well.”

CHAPTER FOUR

LEONIDA TOSSED ASIDE PRIDE and even dignity as she scurried from Meadowland and headed back to Hillside at a pace hardly suitable for a proper lady.

She only wished that she could return to St. Petersburg at an equally swift pace.

What a fool she had been to come to England. It was not, after all, as if she had actually believed her mother’s blithe assurances that it would be a simple matter to slip into a duke’s grand manor house filled with a few dozen servants and waltz out with a packet of letters that had been hidden for the past twenty or thirty years. And that was before she had met the Duke of Huntley.

Why did the man have to be so annoyingly perceptive?

From the moment they had been introduced he had regarded her with a brooding suspicion that he barely bothered to conceal beneath his smooth charm. And after today…

She halted just outside the gate leading to Lady Summerville’s private garden, glancing down at the diamond hairpin clutched in her hand. Well, needless to say, she had done nothing to ease his distrust of her presence in Surrey.

And worse, that maddening fascination she felt whenever he was near refused to be squashed, no matter how desperately she warned herself that it threatened to ruin everything.

For the moment, the Duke of Huntley stood between her and those letters she so desperately needed. She had to think of him as the enemy. Not as a gentleman who made her heart race and her stomach churn with a painful excitement.

Giving an angry shake of her head, Leonida reached to open the gate, pausing as she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps from behind her. Turning about, she expected to discover one of the innumerable servants or tenants. Unlike Russia’s vast expanses, the English countryside seemed to be crowded with people.

Strangely, however, there was no one to be seen. It was as if whoever was there had hastily ducked behind one of the numerous trees.

“Hello,” she called, decidedly unnerved by the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes. “Is anyone there? Hello.”

“Miss Leonida, whatever are you doing?”

With a squeak of alarm, Leonida whirled back to the gate, discovering her maid standing there with a frown on her round face.

Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, Leonida sucked in a steadying breath. “I was certain I heard someone following me.”

“The Duke?”

“I…” She shook her head, reaching to pull open the gate. She did not believe that Stefan would lower himself to sneaking behind her, but she did blame him for putting her so on edge that she was jumping at shadows. “It was probably just my imagination. My nerves are rather unsettled.”

“And no wonder.” Wrapping a protective arm around Leonida’s shoulders, Sophy led her toward the nearby house. “Your mother has no right to involve you in such foolishness.”

Leonida hastily glanced around the empty garden. “Shh, Sophy, you must take care.”

Sophy snorted. Leonida had been forced to reveal that her mother had sent her to England to discover a hidden object, but nothing more. It was not that she did not trust her maid, but the fewer who knew the better.

“Did you find what you were searching for?”

“No.” Leonida reached to pluck a pink rose from a nearby bush. “I shall have to return.”

“Not today, you will not,” Sophy muttered. “You look in need of a long nap.”

“I hoped you packed my headache powders.”

A sly smile curved Sophy’s lips. “No, but I did manage to get my hands on a bottle of vodka. The finest in your mother’s cellars.”

AS USUAL, STEFAN CHOSE TO WALK the short distance to Hillside rather than calling for his carriage. Not that he was foolish enough to wander around on his own. His position as Duke offered some protection, but a desperate thief could put a hole through his heart as easily as if he were any other man.

Besides, his servants would be horrified if he walked through the dark alone. They expected him to behave in a manner befitting a duke, even when he felt as if he were being slowly strangled by the rigid custom.

Reaching the gardens of Hillside, Stefan commanded the two grooms to go to the kitchen to enjoy dinner and stepped through the gate. Once alone, he followed the torchlit path until a faint sound had him reaching into his pocket to grasp the pistol that was loaded and primed to fire.

A shadow loomed from behind a fountain, then Stefan’s tension relaxed as the flickering firelight revealed his brother’s familiar features.

Pulling his hand from his pocket, Stefan gave a lift of his brows. “Edmond. Were you laying in wait?”

Edmond shrugged, his gaze narrowing as it skimmed over Stefan’s tailored jacket in a dove gray that he had matched with a black waistcoat stitched with a gold thread. Stefan shifted, uncomfortable. He had no desire to explain why he had felt a sudden need to call for the local tailor.

“I did wish to speak with you before you entered,” Edmond admitted, a mysterious smile playing about his lips.

“Has something occurred?” Stefan’s brows snapped together. “Is it Brianna?”

Edmond held up a reassuring hand. “Everything is well, Stefan.”

“Then why did you wish to speak with me?”

“The King sent a messenger earlier to demand my appearance at Court.”

“Damn.” Stefan grimaced. George had been more demanding than ever of his loyal subjects since the death of his father. “What does he want on this occasion?”

His brother shrugged. “He claims that he desires to discuss the details of his approaching coronation.”

“And what is his true purpose?”

“I suspect he desires me to ensure that Queen Caroline comprehends that her presence at the ceremony is distinctly unwelcome.”

Predictable. After the farcical trial where the King failed to dissolve his marriage to the Queen, he had done everything in his power to humiliate her.

“Does he not have a dozen fawning sycophants to negotiate the royal domestic squabbles?”

Edmond shoved his fingers through his dark curls. A sure indication he was not as calm as he appeared.

“None with the least amount of diplomatic skills.”

“As if diplomacy has ever swayed the Queen from her outrageous behavior.”

“Yes, it is rather a pity she did not remain abroad,” Edmond muttered. “Still, I am not without pity for her. The marriage might have been less a tragedy if she had not been treated with such open contempt by her husband and those who surrounded him.”

That was true enough. The King had not only flaunted his mistress with utter disregard, but he had made no effort to disguise his disgust for his new bride.

“I agree, but there is no healing the wounds after all these years. She will go to any lengths to have her revenge. And what could be more tempting than embarrassing the King during such a public spectacle?”

Edmond heaved a sigh. “I must at least make the attempt.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Stefan blinked in surprise. “I have always known Brianna to be efficient, but surely not even she can prepare to undertake a journey so swiftly?”

Edmond’s features hardened. “Brianna will be remaining in Surrey.”

“Good lord. Have you told her?”

Edmond’s short laugh echoed through the shadowed garden. “She was not pleased to say the least, but she eventually had to concede that traveling any distance in a carriage is beyond her at the moment.”

Stefan’s concern was not eased. “I am happy to know she is being sensible, but do you truly think that she should be left alone here with Miss Karkoff?”

“Mon Dieu, Stefan, you do not believe the woman is here to harm my bride?” Edmond demanded in exasperated tones.

Stefan recalled his violent confusion of emotion when he had stepped into his library to discover Leonida. Suspicion, anger and a raw, relentless desire at the sight of her simple beauty that seemed to glow in the slanting sunlight.

“I have no notion why she is here, and that is what troubles me,” he muttered.

There was a pause before Edmond folded his arms across his chest.

“Then you will be pleased to discover that Leonida is as concerned for Brianna’s welfare as you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“She seems to believe you would make a suitable chaperone.”

“Me?”

“The implication was that Brianna, and Miss Karkoff of course, would stay at Meadowland until my return.”

Stefan stilled. “Miss Karkoff suggested that they stay at Meadowland?”

“Yes.”

“Now that is intriguing.”

“And not entirely unpalatable, eh, Stefan?”

Unpalatable? Stefan’s lips twisted. A wicked heat speared through his body at the mere thought of having Leonida so close at hand.

“It will be much easier to keep an eye upon her if she is under my roof.”

“And is your eye the only thing you desire to keep upon her?” Edmond drawled.

Stefan regarded his brother with a bland smile. “I cannot imagine what you are implying.”

“I have seen the manner in which you stare at Leonida.”

“And how is that?”

“Like I stare at Brianna.”

Stefan shook his head. No. Edmond was captivated with his bride beyond all reason. What Stefan felt for Leonida was an explosive combination of suspicion and smoldering lust.

“I will not deny she is a beautiful woman.”

“And you want her in your bed?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, easily imagining Leonida spread across his sheets, her alabaster skin drenched in moonlight and jasmine.

“My bed and the women who might warm it are not a subject I discuss with anyone,” he warned. “Including you, Edmond.”

Edmond chuckled. “I am just pleased to know that you are not entirely determined to live as a monk.”

Stefan arched a brow. There were several lovely widows in Surrey who would be shocked by the mere suggestion.

“Hardly a monk.”

“Why, you cunning fox. Who is she?”

“Shall I come in the morning to collect Brianna and Miss Karkoff?” Stefan firmly put an end to the conversation.

Edmond’s smile was taunting, but he willingly allowed himself to be diverted. “If you do not mind the intrusion?”

“On the contrary.” Stefan glanced toward the brightly lit Hillside where he could see the silhouette of a slender woman standing near the window. Leonida. “I have rarely looked forward to something with such anticipation.”

THE PRIVATE QUARTERS of Meadowland proved to be as exquisite as the rest of the estate, if a bit shabby.

Left alone in her chambers, Leonida wandered through the small parlor decorated in soothing shades of ivory and gold, her hand lightly stroking over the back of a satinwood sofa before she headed into the matching bedroom. A canopied bed draped in cream satin was set in the center of a Persian rug and above the ceiling was painted a blue sky with tiny cherubs. Across the room, a large armoire was situated next to a bay window that overlooked the ornamental lake.

A lake.

So…her rooms must be set near the Duchess’s, she realized, unconsciously licking her dry lips. Yet another stroke of fortune.

Oddly, Leonida did not feel particularly fortunate.

She had spent last night tossing and turning after her impetuous suggestion that she and Brianna come to stay at Meadowland. This might be the perfect opportunity to discover the letters, but she was wise enough to sense that she was walking directly into a trap.

Unlike most aristocrats, the Duke of Huntley was no fool. If he allowed a woman he did not trust into his home, then it was only because he had his own devious plot in mind.

Leonida could only hope that she was clever enough to outwit him.

She shivered despite the heat in the room, then with a tilt of her chin, she forced herself to thrust aside her cowardly thoughts and begin a thorough search of the armoire. It hardly seemed likely the letters would be hidden in a guest chamber, but she would leave no stone unturned.

Besides, she dare not seek the Duchess’s room until she could be certain she would not be seen.

Finding nothing in the armoire but the clothing that Sophy had unpacked just moments before, Leonida turned her attention to the mirrored dressing table, pulling the drawers open to discover a silver-backed mirror and matching brush as well as several expensive bottles of perfume. She had just tugged open the bottom drawer when a familiar tingle raced over her skin, warning her that she was no longer alone.

Slamming the drawer shut, she rose jerkily to her feet and turned to discover Stefan leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across her chest.

Despite the fact she had seen him less than an hour before, her heart gave its familiar jerk as she met his dazzling blue gaze.

He was so damnably gorgeous. Even attired in a plain green jacket and buckskins, his dark beauty was enough to steal the breath of any woman.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, refusing to glance down and ensure her white muslin gown with a black ribbon threaded through the bodice and seed pearls stitched along the hem was not wrinkled from her short journey. It was bad enough her hand had already lifted to touch her curls that had been twisted into a complicated knot on top her head.

“I wished to assure myself that you were settled. I hope the chambers suit you?”

“Very much, thank you.”

His gaze shifted over her shoulder, lingering on the dresser. “You appeared to be searching for something. If there is anything you need…”

“No, I was simply assuring myself that Sophy had packed all that I requested,” she interrupted, her voice rushed.

“Ah.” His expression was impossible to read. “And did she?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“If not, you need only let me know and I shall send one of my servants to collect it for you.”

“That is very kind of you.”

A slow, tantalizing smile curved his lips. “I desire you to feel welcome at Meadowland.”

Her mouth went dry, reminding her that there was more than one danger in residing beneath the same roof as the Duke of Huntley.

“Where is Brianna?”

“Saying farewell to my brother.”

“I see. Perhaps I should say goodbye, as well.”

His wicked laugh brushed over her skin like a caress. “I doubt they would welcome the interruption at this precise moment.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Oh.”

“Hmm.” Without warning he reached to brush a finger down her cheek. “I wonder if that blush is real. Are you as innocent as you appear to be?”

She hastily backed away, not halting until her back was pressed against the carved post of the bed. A mere touch should not make her stomach clench with excitement.

“Your Grace.”

Prowling forward, the Duke did not halt until he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her gown.

“My name is Stefan.” He reached to grasp the post just above her head, his brooding gaze trained on her lips. “Say it.”

A voice whispered in the back of her mind to slap his handsome face. It would be a disaster to allow this man to realize just how susceptible she was to his potent masculinity.

That voice, however, went unheeded as her body softened and her pulsed raced. How was she supposed to think when his spicy male scent was clouding her senses?

“Stefan,” she breathed.

His head dipped down to stroke his lips over the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.

“Again.”

She trembled. “Stefan.”

“Beautiful.” He gently nipped her skin, his hand skimming up the curve of her waist. “You are so beautiful.”

Her knees went weak and Leonida was forced to grasp the lapels of his jacket to keep upright.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked huskily.

His fingers shifted to trace the edge of her bodice, the light touch making her stomach clench again with a thrilling sense of exhilaration.

“Because I must know.”

“Know what?”

His mouth traced a path of kisses up the line of her throat. “If your skin is as smooth as I have fantasized it to be.” He nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. “If your hair smells of jasmine.” He explored the heated skin of her cheek before hovering just above her mouth. “If your lips taste as sweet as they appear.”

“You must not…”

Her words were halted as he covered her mouth in a fierce, shockingly brazen kiss.

Leonida’s breath tangled in her throat and her heart forgot to beat as her lips parted beneath his insistent demand. Over the years she had occasionally been kissed by hopeful gentlemen. A few had even been quite skilled. But never had such a simple caress seared through her, melting her resistance with a terrifying ease.

His lips tasted of brandy, as if he had sipped the spirit before entering her room, and his tongue teased hers in an oddly erotic dance. She felt dizzy, his male scent stirring her senses as surely as the clever fingers that cupped her breast in a possessive gesture.

She shivered, her lips moving beneath his with a ready response she could not hide. This was precisely what she had desired from the moment she had laid eyes on the magnificent Duke of Huntley.

It was, at last, the achingly sweet excitement blooming in the pit of her stomach that sent up a shrill of alarm through her mind.

Mon Dieu.

She had devoted the entire morning to preparing herself to ignore Stefan’s intoxicating presence. Had she not paced her room at Hillside, listing all the reasons her attraction for the Duke was such a ghastly notion? Not the least of which was the risk of being distracted from her true reason for being in Meadowland.

And here she was, melting in his arms, just minutes after her bags had been unpacked.

Pressing her hands against his chest, Leonida turned her face from his devastating kiss.

“No…this is…”

“What?” he rasped, stroking his lips over the line of her jaw.

“Dangerous.”

He pulled back to regard her with smoldering eyes. “Are you afraid?”

Afraid? Her heart was pounding and her knees weak, but she knew that it was not from fear.

“I would be if I had any sense,” she muttered.

He searched her wide eyes, a stain of color splayed along his high cheekbones.

“Do you have a lover waiting for you in Russia?”

She stiffened at the harsh question. “Of course not.”

“It would not be so shocking, little dove. You are an exquisite temptation that few men could resist.”

“Just because my mother…”

He frowned as she allowed her defensive words to trail away. “This has nothing to do with your mother.”

With a wiggle, she slipped from his arms, her hand pressed to her churning stomach as she regarded him with a wary gaze.

“Please, your Grace, Sophy might return at any moment.” His expression hardened. “My name is Stefan.”

“Fine.” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Stefan.”

“Until later.”

With a stiff bow, the Duke turned to make his way toward the door. Abruptly, Leonida realized she was about to allow a perfect opportunity to slip through her grasp.

“Your…” She swiftly corrected herself as Stefan turned to stab her with a warning frown. “Stefan.”

“Yes?”

“I hope you do not mind if I explore your beautiful home while I am here?”

Despite her determinedly casual tone he stilled at her request. He looked like…what? A predator that had spotted his prey?

“I will be pleased to take you on a tour before dinner.”

“No, I…” She halted to clear her throat. “I would not want to take you from your duties. I am quite capable of wandering around on my own.”

He offered a slow dip of his head. “As you wish.”

Waiting until he had left her chambers, Leonida moved to sink onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands as her body trembled with frustrated need.

“Mother, what have you gotten me into?” she muttered.

LEAVING THE IVORY CHAMBERS, Stefan was forced to halt and battle the desire that raged through him like wildfire.

Damn.

He had deliberately gone into Leonida’s room to catch her off guard. Not a particularly admirable ploy, but it had succeeded. A mere glance at her rummaging through the drawers of the dresser had proven she had been searching for something. Something she obviously thought was hidden at Meadowland.

Not that he could imagine what it might be.

And within a few moments in her company, he no longer gave a bloody hell.

At the mere sight of her standing next to the bed, her jasmine scent filling his senses, he had been lost.

If she had not pushed him away, he would have taken her then and there.

Christ, he wished that he had taken her. At least then his body would not be aroused to the point of pain.

“Sir.”

The familiar voice of his butler was nearly as good as being tossed in the middle of a freezing lake.

The savage need faded—although he suspected it would never be truly gone, at least not until he had Leonida spread beneath him—and he was able to turn to face his servant with a measure of composure.

“Yes, Goodson?”

“It may be nothing, but I thought you should know.”

“What is it?”

“Benjamin caught two ruffians in the copse of woods just south of the house.”

Stefan frowned. “Poachers?”

Goodson gave a lift of his hands. “They claimed they were staying in the local village and were merely admiring the grounds.”

“Were they armed?”

“Yes, and Benjamin claimed they spoke with a strange accent.” There was a deliberate pause. “He was certain it wasn’t French.”

Stefan clenched his hands. Foreigners. Were they connected to Leonida?

There was only one means to discover the truth.

“Have Benjamin travel to the village and see if he can catch sight of the trespassers. I would be very interested to know where they are staying.”

Goodson nodded, his gaze shifting to the door that Stefan had so recently closed.

“What of Miss Karkoff?”

“You may leave Miss Karkoff to me.”

The butler sniffed his disapproval. “As you wish.”

CHAPTER FIVE

TWO DAYS LATER, LEONIDA joined Brianna in a slow stroll through the Duchess’s formal garden.

It was a beautiful creation.

The main avenue was paved with a pale pink stone and lined by fountains topped with sirens on each side. At the end of the avenue a refectory pool was surrounded by marble benches and in the center of the pool was a large golden sculpture of Apollo surrounded by lions spewing water from their mouths.

Several smaller paths led to the flower beds that were framed by precisely cut hedges, and set just beyond the pool was a pretty domed grotto that offered a magnificent view of the surrounding countryside.

Soaking in the welcome warmth of the afternoon sun, Leonida slowly felt her tense muscles relax.

The past few days had been stressful, to say the least.

Lord, she had known that Stefan must employ a small battalion of servants, but she had not realized that it was impossible to step from her rooms without tripping over a half dozen of them. Chambermaids, under maids, footmen, pages, a housekeeper, a butler…

Even the one occasion she had attempted to slip toward the Duchess’s chamber in the middle of the night, she had nearly been caught by a uniformed servant who seemed to have no other task than keeping an eye on the candles burning along the corridor.

She might as well have been attempting to steal the Crown Jewels.

To make matters worse, there was no escaping the time she was forced to spend in Stefan’s company.

Oh, he was unfailingly polite, even charming. What else could he be when Brianna was always near? But Leonida was acutely aware of his brooding gaze that held a terrifying mixture of distrust and blatant sexual need.

Unaware that her feet had faltered to a halt, Leonida gave a sudden jerk as Brianna touched her arm.

“Well?”

Turning her head, Leonida regarded her companion’s expectant expression, belatedly realizing that Brianna assumed her bemused manner was due to their beautiful surroundings.

“It is as stunning as you promised,” Leonida said, happy to be distracted from her worrisome thoughts. “It reminds me of home.”

Brianna smiled, her hair shimmering like fire in the sunlight. If Leonida had been an envious sort of person, she would have hated the slender woman with her tilted green eyes and perfect features. Even simply attired in a morning gown of twilled French silk, she seemed to glow with feminine beauty. Leonida, on the other hand, knew she was pretty enough in her rose-and-ivory striped walking dress with satin flowers along the hem, but she would never possess Brianna’s dramatic appeal.

Thankfully, Leonida had never been petty and she found herself enchanted with Brianna’s artless charm.

“Yes, the Duchess was most insistent that it resemble the garden she had known when she was a girl in St. Petersburg, ” Brianna explained. “She loved Meadowland, but she never forgot her devotion to Russia. No doubt that is why Edmond felt compelled to offer his services to the Emperor when he came of age.”

“The current Duke does not seem to possess his brother’s sense of dedication to Russia.”

“No, Stefan is very much an Englishman, as he should be,” Brianna readily agreed. “His duty is to his estates and to the British Crown. He has a great number of people who depend upon him.”

“So I have noticed,” Leonida said dryly, recalling the unwelcome servants who filled the house.

“He is a very fine duke. Just like his father.”

Leonida pretended an interest in a nearby rose bloom. She suspected that Brianna was aware of far more than she allowed others to believe.

“Did you know the previous Duke well?”

“Yes.” With a faint sigh, Brianna moved to settle on a nearby bench. “I was in London when he and the Duchess died, but I spent a great deal of my childhood here. My own parents…well, let us just say they were unsuited to wed and even more unsuited to have a child. My only solace was coming to Meadowland where I was welcomed as one of the family.” She glanced toward the sprawling mansion. “This was a place of great joy and great love.”

Leonida nodded. She had easily been able to sense the happiness that seemed to have seeped into the very stone of Meadowland, as if just waiting for an opportunity to fill the air once again.

“Did you know then that you would wed Edmond?”

“Good heavens, no.” Brianna’s chuckle filled the rosescented air. “He terrified me. I was much closer to Stefan.”

Leonida felt a ridiculous pang. Not that she believed that Brianna was anything but devoted to Lord Summerville, but there was no denying that she held a special place in Stefan’s heart.

“I see.”

“He was like a brother to me,” Brianna said, an odd hint of amusement in her voice. “Now he is truly my brother. I could not be more delighted.”

Leonida stroked the velvet petal, considering Stefan and Edmond.

“I cannot claim your acquaintance with the brothers but I must admit that I find the Duke far more…” She searched for the proper word. “Intimidating than your husband.”

“You are very perceptive.”

Leonida turned to meet Brianna’s startled gaze. “Why do you say that?”

“Most people are fooled by Stefan’s quiet manner and dislike for the foolishness of society, but beneath his calm composure is a formidable intelligence and a ruthless will.” She deliberately paused. “I would not desire to cross him.”

Leonida could not halt her shiver. “No.”

“On the other hand, he is intensely loyal and would do anything in his power to protect those he loves.”

Leonida returned her attention to the roses, unable to dismiss her insatiable fascination with the Duke of Huntley.

“It is odd that he has not yet wed.”

“You must recall that Stefan and Edmond were raised by parents who were utterly devoted to one another. Neither could be satisfied with anything less in their marriage.”

Leonida’s heart sank at Brianna’s words. Stupid. Of course, a gentleman such as Stefan would choose a woman he could love without reservation. A woman of beauty and grace and charm. A woman of unshakable morals whom he could always trust.

She hastily quashed the dangerous thoughts. The next Duchess of Huntley was none of her concern.

None.

“Edmond certainly found such devotion,” she murmured.

“Yes, well, it might not be so simple for Stefan.” Brianna laughed wryly. “Not that Edmond’s and my courtship was without its difficulties, but Stefan is consumed with his duties as Duke. I think he always fears that he will somehow fail his father. A ludicrous notion, but…”

“But he feels the weight of his responsibilities?” Leonida finished for her companion.

“Too much. He never gives himself the opportunity to meet a woman who can win his heart. I worry for him.”

Leonida shrugged. “He is still young.”

“And extraordinarily attractive,” Brianna pointed out, as if Leonida was not already painfully aware of Stefan’s lethal allure. “It is grossly unfair that two men should possess such beauty. I always feel remarkably dowdy in their presence.”

Leonida snorted. “I know precisely how you feel.”

“Yes, perhaps you do.”

Leonida stiffened at Brianna’s soft words, sensing that the woman was far too aware of her potent awareness of Stefan.

Squaring her shoulders, she sternly reminded herself that she had a purpose in coming to Meadowland, and it was not to fantasize about the Duke of Huntley.

“Were you close to the Duchess?” she asked with artful innocence.

“She was always very kind to me.”

“As she was to my mother. They were great friends. In fact, she told me that she was so lonely that she wrote endless letters to the Duchess after she left Russia to travel to England.” She covertly glanced toward Brianna, watching her expression. “Did you ever happen across any of them?”

“Not that I can recall.” Brianna frowned. “Wait, it does seem…Oh, of course.”

“Yes?”

“I remember asking Edmond why he and Stefan held their cousin Howard Summerville in such contempt.” She grimaced. “He lived not far from here and I occasionally crossed his path, so I knew he was a petulant little snitch who delighted in spoiling the fun of others, but their violent hatred seemed a bit extreme.”

Leonida managed a smile, although she couldn’t imagine what Howard Summerville had to do with her mother’s letters.

“What did he say?”

“He said that Howard was always dunning them for money, and worse, they caught him more than once stealing objects from Meadowland that he could sell in London.”

Leonida blinked in shock. “Mon Dieu.”

“Edmond said they were usually small things, snuff boxes or statuettes, but once Stefan caught Howard in the Duchess’s rooms trying to stuff packets of old letters into his pockets.”

“Letters?” Leonida’s fingers tightened on the rose, sending a shower of crimson petals across the path. Had Howard Summerville managed to read the letters? Was he the one behind her mother’s blackmail? “You are certain?”

“I believe that is what Edmond said. Why?”

“It seems an odd thing to steal.”

“A dangerous thing to try and steal as it turns out.” Brianna laughed. “Stefan had bloodied Howard’s nose and cracked three of his ribs before Edmond could pull him off.”

Leonida froze. “I…see.”

“I do not mean to imply that Stefan is a violent man, but he is intensely protective of his parents’ memories.”

The dread that had been growing with every passing day coiled through the pit of her stomach.

She did not believe Stefan would physically harm her if he learned the truth of her quest. He had been raised a gentleman. But he might very well hate her.

And she could not blame him for a moment.

“Quite understandable,” she muttered.

“Stefan never forgave his cousin,” Brianna continued, unaware of Leonida’s shiver of regret.

Struggling to concentrate on the realization that there had been letters in the Duchess’s rooms, even if she could not know for certain they were the ones she sought, Leonida blinked in astonishment as a large dog bounded through the nearby hedge, dancing around her with his tongue hanging out and his ears flopping.

“Oh.”

Brianna laughed. “Do not fear, Puck would not harm you, would you, old boy?”

“Puck?”

“Puck the second, actually,” a dark voice drawled, making Leonida jerk her head up to watch Stefan step from behind the fountain.

“Stefan, you are home early.” With a smile of welcome, Brianna rose to her feet. “We did not expect you until dinner.”

Stefan’s gaze never wavered from Leonida’s guarded expression. “I discovered I could not concentrate on drainage ditches when I had two such lovely guests staying beneath my roof.”

Brianna chuckled. “It must be your loveliness that has lured him from his beloved fields, Leonida, since he has on more than one occasion forgotten that he was to join me for tea at Hillside.”

Stefan’s lips twitched. “Only because I knew your annoying husband would be hovering about to ruin my appetite for sponge cake.”

“You are a terrible liar and it is time I lay down for a rest,” Brianna said, glancing from Stefan to Leonida with a hint of satisfaction. “It is excessively inconvenient to always feel so weary.”

Recalling his manners, Stefan moved to take Brianna’s hand and lift it to his lips.

“Inconvenient, but wondrous.”

“Yes.”

“If you have need do not hesitate to call for me.”

“All I need is rest. I shall see you both at dinner.”

Leonida watched Brianna follow the path back toward the house, only belatedly realizing she was being left alone with Stefan. Her heart fluttered in alarm. She had gone to great efforts to avoid this precise situation.

“Perhaps…”

Without warning, Stefan had moved to grasp her arms. “No.”

STEFAN GAZED DOWN AT THE FACE that had haunted his nights. The clear, innocent blue eyes. The delicate features. The stubborn line of her jaw.

The lush lips that begged for his kiss.

Christ. He was tired of waiting for her to reveal her nefarious reasons for being at Meadowland, and even more tired of playing the role of proper host.

He wanted her in his bed. To hell with anything else.

As if sensing his smoldering tension, Leonida licked her lips, her eyes darkening with a need she could not entirely disguise.

“No?”

“You were about to suggest that you follow Brianna to ensure she is well or perhaps you have discovered a sudden need to change your gown or any of the other excuses you have used over the past two days to avoid being alone with me.”

Her lips thinned at his mocking tone. “If you are so confident I am attempting to avoid you then it would seem odd you would insist that I remain.”

Skimming his hands down her bare arms, he took her hand and firmly tugged her down the path.

“Since I have done everything in my power to make you feel welcome at Meadowland, I think it only fair to have an explanation as to why you would take such a dislike to my companionship.”

She ducked her head, hiding her expressive features. “I do not dislike your companionship.”

“Then why do you avoid me?” he demanded. “Is it because I kissed you?”

“You should not have.”

Stefan’s short laugh was without humor. Did she believe that he had a choice in the matter?

“Perhaps not, but that will not halt me from doing so again.”

He felt her shiver and, quickening his pace, he led her around the small pool to climb the steps of the private grotto. Bloody hell, he had to kiss this woman before he went stark raving mad.

She gasped as he yanked her into the shadows of the grotto that was painted with lovely Grecian frescoes, his arms wrapping around her to haul her firmly against his chest.

“Is this why you returned early?” she demanded, her glare at odds with the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat.

Miss Karkoff might pretend indifference, but she desired him. Her words could lie, but not her body.

“I returned because I could not stay away.” Dipping his head, Stefan buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Jasmine.”

“What?”

“You smell of jasmine.”

She shuddered, her hands lifting to clutch at his shoulders.

“Stefan, what do you want of me?”

“I should think that obvious.” He pulled back to regard her with a grim determination, his fingers easily dealing with the ribbons that held her chip bonnet tied beneath her chin. “But if you wish, I shall reveal precisely what I want of you.”

She made a sound of annoyance as he casually tossed the hat onto the flagstone floor.

“That is my favorite bonnet.”

Heat spread through his lower body, stirring his muscles in sharp anticipation.

“A charming concoction, but as you know I prefer a more natural beauty.” With a few practiced motions he had the pearl studded pins plucked from her hair, allowing the golden curls to tumble over her shoulders. With a low groan, he thrust his fingers through the thick curls. “Silken sunshine.”

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. “You are trying to distract me.”

He brushed his lips over her brow, pausing to nuzzle the pulse hammering at her temple.

“Am I succeeding?”

“Damn you,” she said huskily.

“Such language, little dove. Those lips were meant for a far sweeter purpose.” Framing her face in his hands, Stefan angled it upward, seeking her lips in a kiss of sheer possession. Mine, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Parting her mouth with his tongue, Stefan tasted deeply of her sweet innocence, a savage hunger humming through his body. For a moment she went rigid, as if startled by his invasion, then with a sigh, she arched closer to his body and tangled her fingers in his hair. “Yes,” he muttered against her lips, his hands smoothing up her back as he skillfully unhooked the pearl buttons.

He swept his lips over her eyes, the perfect line of her nose, before returning to her pleading lips. At the same moment, he was shifting her arms so he could tug her gown down until it pooled at her feet.

Leonida groaned, pulling back to regard him with dazed eyes. “The servants…”

“Will not trouble us here,” he promised, nuzzling that tender spot at the base of her throat that always made her shiver.

“Do they know this is where you lure hapless women?” she rasped, even as her head tilted back to allow him greater access.

“Hapless?” He laughed as he shifted to press her against the wall, his fingers tracing the scooped bodice of her shift. Her skin was as soft as the finest silk. “You are the most dangerous woman I have ever encountered, Miss Karkoff. The Emperor is wiser than I ever suspected.”

Her breath caught at his accusation. “What do you mean?”

“You are the one with the answers, not I,” he muttered, far more interested in removing her lacy corset than in discovering the truth. The undergarment dropped to the ground, swiftly followed by her thin shift. She shivered. Stefan wrapped her tightly in his arms. “And until I have the truth from you I intend to enjoy what has been offered me.”

“Stefan…” She gave a startled squeak as he bent his head to take a puckered nipple between his lips. “Oh.”

“Shh, my dove,” he murmured, savoring the sweet taste of Leonida’s skin as he explored the curve of her breast, his fingers stroking down her lower back and over the flare of her hips.

She was tiny, but perfectly shaped, and so exquisitely soft. Flawless. With a muttered curse, Stefan ripped off his cravat and jacket, his waistcoat swiftly following. Then, jerking his linen shirt over his head, he reached to grasp her hands and pressed them to his chest.

“Touch me,” he commanded roughly.

With a tiny groan she arched back to regard him with a troubled gaze.

“I have warned you that I am not my mother.”

He frowned, gripping her hips to press her firmly against his aching erection. This was hardly the moment to chat about her mother.

“So you have said, although I haven’t the least notion what this has to do with the Countess,” he growled.

Her hands trembled, but she did not pull them away from his chest. “You are not the first gentleman to presume I am eager for an affair just because my mother enjoyed such a blatant liaison with the Emperor.”

Just for a moment Stefan’s heart twisted at the sight of the vulnerability that shimmered in her wide eyes. She appeared so damned innocent with her flushed cheeks and her bright curls tumbled about her face. It stirred a protective instinct that sent a chill of alarm down his spine.

He narrowed his gaze as he studied the angelic face that might very well disguise the heart of a viper. He would be a fool to forget that for a moment.

“And you would not be the first woman to return my kisses with the hope of trapping a duke into marriage,” he smoothly countered.

She blinked, as if shocked by his words. “I would never—”

“And neither would I,” he interrupted, kissing her with a fierce demand. “I desire you,” he rasped, his lips moving down the line of her collarbone. “I ache for you. It is that simple.”

“Dear lord,” she moaned, her fingers skating over his chest as he once again found the tip of her breast to suckle her with a growing insistence. “There is nothing simple about this.”

She was right.

Lust was simple, but this…

Grimly thrusting aside the voice of warning in the back of his head, Stefan nudged her legs apart with his knee, his hand moving over her hip until he could tease the inner skin of her thigh.

She gave a small cry of pleasure and Stefan hastily covered her lips in a smothering kiss. It was not fear of discovery that troubled him; it was fear he might very well shoot anyone stupid enough to walk through the door and interrupt him.

Returning his kiss with an untutored enthusiasm, Leonida dug her nails into his back. Stefan growled his pleasure, his hand seeking the intimate cleft between her legs. She was already damp and his finger slid through the slick folds, a sweet temptation that made his erection pulse with an angry demand for release.

Guided by her soft pants and moans, Stefan caressed her with a growing urgency, goading her to even greater pleasure. She began to stir restlessly in his arms, seeking a relief to the tension he could feel clenching her muscles.

“Easy,” he murmured, grasping one of her wandering hands to press it against his arousal.

He groaned at the raw pleasure. Even through his buckskins he could feel the heat of her fingers as they curved tentatively around his shaft.

Using one hand to guide her fingers over his arousal, he used the other to continue pleasuring her, their rasping breaths the only sound to break the silence of the grotto.

“Stefan…I need…”

“I know, my dove, trust me,” he muttered, barely recognizing the irony of his words.

In this moment he could think of nothing beyond the sight of Leonida’s beautiful face as her eyes widened and her mouth parted in a silent scream of pleasure.

Her first taste of passion, but not her last, he silently swore.

Struck by her beauty, Stefan was caught off guard when her fingers tightened around him. With a strangled moan, he thrust his hips forward and his powerful release exploded. Gasping for air, he leaned heavily against her, struggling to remain upright as the shattering climax pulsed through his body.

Christ, what had the woman done to him?

CHAPTER SIX

WAITING UNTIL THE DINNER GONG had echoed through the vast house, Leonida glided through the thankfully empty corridor to slip into the Duchess’s room.

She knew she was taking a risk. Although a large number of the servants would be busy in the kitchens, either assisting with the meal or enjoying their own, there were always a few drifting about the house, their sharp gazes missing nothing.

But what choice did she have? She might try and convince herself that giving in to Stefan’s skillful seduction was the perfect means of keeping him distracted from her true purpose for being in Surrey, but she was not stupid.

Her violent explosion of pleasure had nothing to do with plots or schemes or her loyalty to Russia. She was quite simply incapable of resisting the handsome Duke of Huntley. And every moment that she spent in his company only deepened her fascination.

She had to find those letters and flee before her revulsion for deceiving Stefan overcame her devotion to her mother.

Her decision made, Leonida had sent word to the kitchen that she preferred a tray in her room and, waiting until she was certain that both Stefan and Brianna had gone down to dinner, she had posted Sophy near the stairs and darted through the shadows to the state rooms.

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. With a frown he moved to collect a matching shawl that she had left at the edge of the bed and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders. “I had forgotten your love for warmth. I shall have a maid light a fire for you while we are at dinner.”

She clenched her teeth, refusing to be touched by his seeming concern.

“Do not pretend that you care for my comfort.”

“But I do, my dove.” His hands lightly circled her neck, his thumb stroking the pulse that pounded at the base of her throat. “I am quite determined to do everything in my power to please you.”

“Except leave me in peace,” she said huskily.

“Is that what you truly want?” He snared her gaze, his expression brooding. “Peace?”

“Yes,” she whispered, even as she knew that was not entirely the truth.

He sensed it as well, his eyes narrowing. “Liar.”

“What do you know of me?”

“Not nearly so much as I intend to know. But I can recognize loneliness when it haunts a pair of exquisite blue eyes.”

With a burst of alarm Leonida pushed Stefan away, turning from his perceptive gaze. “Do not.”

His hands settled on her shoulders, but he made no effort to turn her around. “Am I wrong?”

“I…miss home.”

“Do you truly have a home, Leonida Karkoff?” he whispered.

Her long-buried pain wrenched through her heart, making her feel annoyingly vulnerable.

Stefan had already seduced her body; he could not be allowed to steal her heart.

“What a ridiculous question. I happen to live in one of the finest houses in all of St. Petersburg.”

He bent his head to whisper directly in her ear. “A house is not necessarily a home, as I have discovered.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as a delicious heat flowed through her body. When Stefan was near she had no fear of being cold.

“You are not happy at Meadowland?”

“I am content…for the most part.”

“Contentment and happiness are not the same.”

“No, they are not,” he said, the hint of wistful yearning tugging at her heart.

Abruptly she turned to face him, her expression wary. Dear lord. What was the matter with her? The Duke of Huntley was the last man who needed or deserved her sympathy.

He was handsome and wealthy and utterly ruthless in getting whatever he desired.

If he was alone, it was by choice, not fate.

“I suppose you will not leave until I agree to join you for dinner?”

Something that might have been disappointment flashed through the blue eyes before his features hardened.

“You are as intelligent as you are beautiful,” he taunted.

“And you, sir, are an arrogant bully.”

He grasped her chin between his fingers, his gaze focused on her lips.

“You have a quarter of an hour, Leonida. If you do not make an appearance then I will assume you are inviting me to share your dinner in bed.”

STEPPING OUT OF LEONIDA’S chambers, Stefan placed his hands flat against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. He was a fool.

Whether it was because he had allowed his anger at Leonida’s attempt to hide from him to impetuously lead him to her bedchamber, or because he hadn’t taken advantage of being there, he had yet to decide.

In either case, he was once again hard and aching with no hope of ready relief.

With a muttered curse, he pushed away from the wall and forced himself to continue toward the servants’ staircase, where he knew Goodson would be waiting for him.

On cue, the uniformed butler stepped from the shadows, regarding Stefan with a stoic expression.

“Your Grace.”

“Well?” Stefan demanded abruptly. Sensing his employer’s tension, Goodson came straight to the point.

“I could not approach as close as I would like since Miss Karkoff’s maid was standing guard as if she were one of those savage Cossack soldiers.”

“Yes, a most formidable woman,” Stefan agreed dryly. He had thought when he entered Leonida’s rooms he might have to physically toss the protective Sophy out of his path. “What did you manage to see?”

Goodson cleared his throat. “Miss Karkoff left her chamber shortly after you could be heard going downstairs and went directly to the Duchess’s rooms. She remained in there until the maid rushed to warn her of your approach.”

Stefan clenched his teeth, leashing his wave of disappointed fury.

He had already suspected that Leonida had some purpose in suggesting that she and Brianna come to Meadowland. And he was not vain enough to suppose it was an overwhelming desire to be closer to him.

Now his only purpose was to discover her nefarious plot.

“Did she take anything from the room?”

Goodson shrugged. “There was nothing in her hands.”

“Have her room searched while she is at dinner.”

“Of course, sir.”

The butler was turning away when Stefan halted him. “Goodson.”

“Yes, your Grace?”

“Did Benjamin track down the strangers he caught on the grounds?”

“I fear not.” The butler’s stoic expression hardened with frustration. “The innkeeper claimed that he has not had any foreign guests for months and no one in the village recognized the description of the villains.”

“Have him continue to search through the neighborhood, but request that he be discreet. I would prefer no one realize that I am suspicious of their presence.”

“Very good.”

This time Stefan allowed the butler to disappear toward the back of the house, slowly turning to study the closed door to Leonida’s chambers.

For a moment he brooded on charging back down the hall and bluntly confronting the deceitful woman.

Unlike Edmond, he did not enjoy political intrigue or pitting his wits against a cunning foe. He was a forthright gentleman who expected the same from others. Which was, no doubt, why King George and Alexander Pavlovich rarely called upon him when they had need of guile rather than practical assistance.

It was only the knowledge that Leonida could not be bullied or coerced into revealing the truth that kept him standing in the shadows, his hands clenched at his sides.

“What the devil is your scheme, Leonida Karkoff?” he muttered.

St. Petersburg

THE BORDELLO TUCKED BETWEEN a coffeehouse and furniture warehouse was like many others spread throughout St. Petersburg.

The building was a nondescript brick structure that was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence and guarded by a brute of a man who frightened even hardened soldiers. Inside the front parlor the furnishings were a gaudy, overly opulent combination of plush velvet sofas and fur rugs where a gentleman could wait in comfort for his particular whore to become available. Or, if he preferred, he could join the high-stakes gambling that was offered in the back rooms. Upstairs, the private rooms were individually created to indulge in whatever vice might tempt the jaded members of Russian society.

But it was not the dubious taste in furnishings, or the lovely, well-trained whores that plied their trade that attracted the rich and powerful.

It was instead the absolute discretion that Madam Ivanna demanded of her guests and servants.

A gentleman who stepped through the door could be assured that his presence or his…unusual sexual appetites would never be revealed.

Such a promise of privacy was worth the outrageous sums that Ivanna charged.

Heading up the narrow flight of stairs, Nikolas Babevich was already hard with anticipation at the thought of Celeste and her wicked chains and whips. Such sweet pain was expensive, but well worth every ruble.

Not that he possessed an overabundance of rubles, he acknowledged, a bitter anger burning in the pit of his stomach.

Damn the Countess Karkoff.

It was entirely her fault that he was now reduced to borrowing funds from his nagging sister and dodging the bill collectors who refused to offer him credit for so much as a new pair of boots.

Thankfully he had managed to relieve a drunken Prussian of his purse outside the Opera House last eve or he would have been forced to cancel his standing appointment at this brothel. A near unbearable notion.

Pushing open the door at the end of the long, candlelit hallway, Nikolas licked his lips, expecting to discover Celeste standing in the center of the room, whip in hand.

What he discovered instead was a tall, distinguished gentleman with silver hair and a handsome countenance that was barely lined despite his fifty-odd years.

Sir Charles Richards had arrived in St. Petersburg from England only a few months ago, but had swiftly become a favorite of Prince Michael, younger brother of Alexander Pavlovich.

To most in society he was a charming, intelligent foreigner who was renowned for his impeccable manners and simple elegance, tonight displayed by his plain but exquisitely tailored black coat and dove-gray breeches that were at such odds with the Russian love for flamboyance.

Nikolas was one of the few who suspected that behind his affable smile was a merciless soul that was capable of great evil.

“Good evening, Nikolas Babevich,” Richards drawled, his elegant fingers holding one of the small whips that was always so appealing in Celeste’s hands, but was nothing less than terrifying when held by the Englishman.

Licking his dry lips, Nikolas cast a covert glance about the barren room, barely noting the various tools of torture that were hung on the walls or the wide bed that was covered in black satin and shackles. Ridiculously he had hoped that Celeste or one of the numerous servants might be lurking in a dark corner.

As if their presence would protect him from the malevolence that filled the thick air.

“How…” Nikolas was forced to halt and clear his throat. “How did you get in here?”

The nobleman’s lips curled as he flicked a dismissive gaze over Nikolas’s short, unfortunately pudgy figure that was attired in a growingly threadbare jacket in moss green and the too-tight tan breeches.

“There are few doors closed to me,” he drawled.

Nikolas clenched his hands into fists. Despite his fear, he wouldn’t be mocked by a damned foreigner.

“My congratulations. Now, if you do not mind, I came here for a specific entertainment that does not include spectators.”

“Your entertainment will have to wait until after our little chat,” Sir Charles sneered, twirling the whip in his hand.

“I told you that the Karkoff bitch refuses to give me the money without proof of the letters. What would you have me do?”

“Did you know the Countess sent her daughter to England? Surrey to be precise.”

Nikolas frowned. The Countess Karkoff could rot in hell as far as he was concerned.

“Why should I care?”

“For one thing, it proves there is something in those letters worth discovering. The Countess would never send her daughter on such a journey otherwise.”

“Wait,” Nikolas growled. “I thought you knew what was in those letters.”

“Howard Summerville claimed they must hold nefarious secrets since they were not only written in a mysterious code, but the Duke of Huntley had nearly beaten him to death when he caught him with them in his hands. It was worth taking the chance to discover if the boorish imbecile had truly stumbled across the means of acquiring a fortune or was making his usual empty boasts.”

Nikolas stiffened in outrage. He had risked his life on a mere hunch?

“You lied to me.”

“I told you what you needed to know.” Richards dismissed his accusation with a shrug. “Now, however, Miss Karkoff’s presence in Surrey endangers our tidy little plot.”

“How?”

The unnerving black eyes narrowed in frigid anger. “Because that is where the letters were last seen, you idiot.”

“Does she have them?”

“And how would I know?” Richards tossed the whip onto the bed in an impatient motion. “I sent my servants to search the Duke’s home weeks ago, but Miss Karkoff’s presence complicates matters.”

Nikolas tugged at his wilted cravat, not for the first time wishing he had never allowed Sir Charles Richards to convince him to take part in the dangerous scheme.

Not that you truly had a choice, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Gambling had always been his weakness and when he’d lost far more money than he possessed to the Englishman, he had no choice but to listen to his outlandish scheme. And in truth, the thought of gaining a small fortune with such ease had been a temptation he couldn’t resist.

Now he could do no more than curse his stupidity.

“We should never have approached the Countess until we had our hands on those letters.”

“You were as eager as I was to claim the fortune. Who would have suspected the Emperor’s whore would have the nerve to question your threat?” The dark eyes glittered with a cruel light. “Obviously you were not very convincing.”

Nikolas shuddered, his skin crawling with an indefinable fear. “I did what was asked. It isn’t my fault the Countess—”

“Shut up,” Richards interrupted. “I weary of your excuses.”

Nikolas swallowed the lump lodged in his throat. “Fine. We gambled and lost. C’est la vie.”

Richards took a step forward, his expression grim. “This is not over. I will have my money.”

“How? If the daughter manages to discover those letters then they will know that we have never seen them.”

“My men have orders to keep a close eye on the female. If she does manage to uncover the letters they will be able to retrieve them from her.”

“And if she does not?”

“Then she will return to Russia with the information that the letters are indeed missing.”

Nikolas bit back the urge to point out the numerous flaws in the plan. His existence might be miserable at the moment, but he was in no hurry to meet the death that lurked in his companion’s eyes.

“So we wait?”

“No, we cannot allow the Countess to suspect this is a bluff,” Richards snapped, a dark edge in his voice making Nikolas relieved that he did not know what was going through his companion’s mind. He sensed it would give him nightmares for weeks to come. “I desire you to approach the Countess again and warn her that for every week that passes, the cost of your silence increases by five thousand rubles.”

Nikolas took a discreet step backward. “And if she refuses?”

“You will continue to pester her. It will keep her fretting rather than devoting her time to considering how to outwit us.” The man’s lips curled into a sneer. “Women are incapable of behaving in a sensible manner when they are flustered.”

Nikolas’s humorless laugh echoed eerily through the room. “Have you ever met the Countess?”

“She is a female.” Richards easily dismissed the strong-willed Countess, obviously unaware of the power she could wield. Stupid man. “Keep her terrified that she is about to lose her devoted and very wealthy lover and she will do whatever necessary to keep her life of luxury.”

“Why must I be the one to approach her?” Nikolas changed tactics. “It seems to me that I am risking my neck while you hide in the shadows.”

Before Nikolas could blink, Richards was across the room, his hands circling Nikolas’s throat with enough pressure to prove he could easily snap his neck.

“That is what you are being paid to do, is it not?” he demanded in low, deadly tones. “And believe me, being caught by the Russian officials is the least of your concern. Fail me and I will cut out your heart and feed it to the wolves. Do you understand?”

Nikolas’s blood froze in his veins. “Yes.”

“Good.”

With a derisive motion, Richards tossed Nikolas against the wall and then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. As if he feared he might have been contaminated.

Bastard.

Pushing from the wall, Nikolas jerked his jacket back into place. “And what will you be doing while I am confronting the Countess?”

“I am traveling to Paris. It will be far easier to keep in contact with my men in England.”

“So you leave me alone to be shot as a traitor?”

“That, mon ami, is entirely in your hands. Do what I command and we both shall be very wealthy gentlemen.”

CHARLES STEPPED FROM the torture room, assured that Nikolas would do as he had been commanded. The wretched creature might long to condemn Charles to the netherworld, but they both knew he would never possess the courage to openly challenge him.

Which, of course, was the reason he had chosen the fool in the first place.

A pity he had not been so clever in predicting the Countess’s stubborn refusal to hand over the money he so desperately needed.

With an effort, Charles battled back the black fury that had plagued him since he was in the nursery. As satisfying as it might be to slice the bitch’s throat, it would not solve his problems.

He had to have money if he wanted to keep his nasty little secrets safe.

A shiver shook his body before he regained command of his icy composure. No. He would not be exposed by a filthy peasant. Even if that peasant was the Beggar Czar, Dimitri Tipova, who reportedly ruled the criminal underworld of St. Petersburg.

Slipping into the room across the hall, he regarded the woman he had ordered to wait for him.

Madam Ivanna was a lushly curved woman who had retained much of her early beauty despite the gray that was threaded through her thick black hair and the wrinkles that fanned beside her wide green eyes. Currently she was attired in a low-cut velvet gown that displayed her considerable charms and matched the decor, but only a fool would miss the shrewd glitter in her eyes.

“Ah, Ivanna, so kind of you to allow me a few moments with my associate.” Moving forward he raised her fingers to his lips, relishing her shiver of disgust. Ah yes, shrewd indeed. Unlike most women, Ivanna was intelligent enough to sense the darkness beneath his handsome countenance and practiced charm. “How can I ever repay you?”

She hastily tugged her fingers from his grasp. “It is nothing, I assure you.”

“You are certain you would not desire a small token of my appreciation?”

“No, it was my pleasure, monsieur.”

“A pity.” He regarded her with a hungry gaze, his blood stirring at the rich scent of her perfume. It had been far too long since he’d allowed himself to indulge in his little pastime. With a shake of his head, he stepped back. “Still, I suppose this is not the time or the place. I need a means to leave the house without being noticed.”

Ivanna heaved a shaky breath of relief, as if sensing how close she had been to glimpsing the true Sir Charles Richards.

“Of course.” She waved a hand toward the door. “I can take you out the back entrance.”

He caught her wrist, his grip punishing. “I said unnoticed.”

“Please, monsieur, I do not know what you want,” she whimpered.

“Think very carefully, Ivanna.”

His fingers tightened, threatening to snap her bones and she gave a sob of surrender.

“There is a hidden passageway that connects my kitchens with the coffeehouse next door.” She brokenly confessed the secret known only to those of royal blood.

A cold smile curled his lips. “You are quite intelligent for a whore.”

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