Bound By Love. Rosemary Rogers

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Bound By Love - Rosemary Rogers


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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


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