When last they’d met, he’d told her that there was nothing she could do to help, aside from keeping him informed of any correspondence that she received from Juliana. Well, she’d not precisely kept to their bargain. Juliana hadn’t written to her or to Heather since she’d told them of her intention to take a position in London, but it was Maria’s habit to pore over the newspaper, and rather more so after Juliana’s silence. And that morning, she’d noticed something abnormal.
The front door opened, and Maria hurried into the foyer. There he stood, extending his coat, hat, and gloves to her butler. Lord, but her breath was all but sucked from her body as she took him in. He moved with the grace and ease of a large, predatory cat; it made her wonder if his muscles would bunch and stretch beneath his skin as she’d seen on the animals at the menagerie.
He turned to face her, and she remembered her tongue. “Welcome to my home. Thank you for coming, Your Grace.” She dipped in a curtsey, and he offered her a shallow bow. “Please, join me in the parlour.”
The butler lifted nary a brow at the exchange before continuing in his duties as Maria led the duke away.
The fire was built up in the parlour, lending the air a warmth that, at the moment, Maria found too stifling.
“Do have a seat.” She gestured toward the sitting area. “The tea in the pot is fresh.”
He ignored the offer. “What news have you?”
The shadow of his beard was slightly darker than it had been when she’d last seen him, and that small outward sign of his discomfiture and worry made apprehension prickle behind her ears and the underside of her breasts grow damp. She retrieved the newspaper from beside the tea service and made certain that it was folded to the correct page.
“Have you read the newspaper this morning, Your Grace?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I glanced at it over coffee. Does it say something about Juliana?”
“No, but—”
“Then you have nothing of import to say to me, Miss Roberts.” He clicked his heels and nodded, then began toward the door.
Embers of anger lit in Maria’s soul, and she scowled at the man’s retreating back. “I’ve found that newspapers are a useful tool, Your Grace, in piecing together a story when ordinarily a story mightn’t be uncovered. Separate occurrences mightn’t appear to connect but, placed in the correct order and viewed from the correct perspective, a link is found.” He halted but didn’t turn, so she continued. “By dismissing my theory, you grant me your nonverbal permission to do with this information what I will. And I assure you, I shall be vocal and ruthless.”
“Enough, curse you, woman.” The duke turned, his thick, dark brows angled low and fierce over his glittering blue-and-brown eyes. “Do you make a habit of piecing stories together from newspapers, Miss Roberts?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “It is merely a hobby, Your Grace. I find the human condition fascinating, no matter how profane or unrefined we are as a species.” She smiled humourlessly at him. “Now allow me to show you what I’ve found.”
* * *
Nottingham
Cold wind bitat Juliana’s cheeks as she listened to the footman’s instructions, and she burrowed deeper into the lapels of another of Leo’s coats that she’d borrowed.
“It must be packed just so,” the footman said, tilting the pistol so that she might observe.
Juliana nodded. “Am I to carry these items on my person?”
“It would be prudent, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the loaded pistol, sachets of powder and shot, and the odd ramming stick, and put them in the deep pockets of Leo’s coat.
The gelding that was to be her mount nudged at her shoulder with his nose, and Juliana turned to offer him an affectionate pat. The saddlebag with her meagre belongings was already fastened to him, and even with the little added weight, she knew that their hard ride would be a struggle for the beastie.
“You oughtn’t be in the open.” Leo’s gruff voice came from behind her, his footfalls crunching on the snow and gravel of the drive as he came near.
Juliana’s stomach gave a flip at the sight of him. He wore the same clothing as when he’d left her bedchamber, but for his coat, now green, and his greatcoat flowing overtop of it. It somehow made the blue of his eyes brighter.
Sensing his urgency, Juliana heaved herself onto the gelding and settled herself in the saddle. He was right; knowing that the cad who had attacked her was on the property ought to have been enough for her to remain indoors while the footman gave her the demonstration. But she’d not thought…
“Keep close, Juliana,” Leo called from his mount. His gaze held hers for several quick moments, but even in that short time, she saw hesitation, worry, and resignation flicker over his features.
She nodded, and opened her mouth to respond, but before a sound could escape, he’d urged his mount into a gallop. A pang of…longing?—Lord, she hoped not—went through her as she nudged her gelding after him.
The snow had stopped sometime in the night, but upon the road remained a thick, lumpy layer of blinding white. The sun shone through the clouds but provided very little warmth against the biting winter chill.
Juliana’s pulse thrummed in her ears, fear keeping her close to Leo’s mount. The horses huffed out their breaths, each exhalation puffing past.
