Trevor waited for the door to close, and then he carried on, leading the still-snickering Tierney and Sutton to his chamber where the knife—and hopefully some answers—awaited.
CHAPTER8
Someone had tried to kill Ridgely.
The thought had haunted Virtue for hours.
Ever since she had spied him in the hall at half past four that morning, looking somber and yet handsome as ever in his bare feet and silk banyan as he led his friends toward the scene of the crime which had almost occurred.
She shuddered again to think of it now as she moved stealthily toward the library, how close he had come to death. It was…well, the thought still robbed her of breath, making her lungs go tight in her chest. Ridgely was so vibrant, so magnificent, so big and strong and powerful and…
No, she had best not continue to enumerate all the pleasant attributes of her guardian. It would do her no good to dwell upon them. Instead, she would take advantage of his distraction—understandable, given the mayhem which had ensued after the night’s upheaval, which had bled into the morning hours and then the afternoon as well. Yes, she would use his diversion to find something with which she might entertain herself.
She didn’t dare attempt to steal back one of the books Ridgely had taken from her chamber. However, what would be the harm in finding a tome to distract her within the walled shelves of his library with no one about to deny her access? There were so many books that she had no doubt he would never miss just one. Would never be the wiser that she had defied his edicts yet again.
At last, there was the room she sought, its door conveniently ajar as if in welcome. Calling to her, she might even say, were anyone to ask. Not that anyone would. Lady Deering had been notably absent at breakfast and later as well. Virtue had been informed that her ladyship was suffering a megrim and would be keeping to her rooms for the remainder of the day. Naturally, all social obligations had been regretfully declined.
With Ridgely busied by the events of the night before and Lady Deering conveniently indisposed, Virtue was free to roam. She paused as she reached her destination, checking the hall outside the library in both directions to ascertain that she had not been seen. Nary a soul.
And that was to be expected as well.
It wasn’t every day that someone attempted to murder the master of the house. Her guardian may have attempted to keep the truth from her, but he ought to have known the servants possessed tongues. The below stairs gossip was ever so much more interesting than that above. Whenever Virtue wanted to know anything, she spoke with the domestics. In that sense, life at Hunt House was not so very different from life at Greycote Abbey.
With a sigh of relief that she remained unseen, she closed the door at her back, giving herself complete and utter privacy. Nothing but herself and walls of books and a crackling fire in the hearth and…
Whatwasthat sound?
It sounded rather like a bear.
Virtue ventured deeper into the chamber and that was when she made the discovery. It was not simply herself, a wall of books, and a crackling fire in the hearth.
It was also a snoring duke on a divan.
The Duke of Ridgely, to be precise.
Whatever was he doing, sleeping in the library? She had supposed that after the mayhem of the night and morning, he had gone to wherever it was he disappeared during the day. Instead, he was still here. Looking unfairly handsome in repose, as if all the troubles of the day had been abandoned to the ethers of slumber.
She should go. Allow him his privacy and small sense of peace in the wake of such brutal upheaval.
Virtue’s feet, however, had other ideas. Because they were taking her closer. Across the Axminster. It was the angle of his head, she suspected—a deuced uncomfortable-looking degree—which was prompting the bearish snores. He would likely have a sore neck when he awoke.
She hovered over him, feeling oddly proprietary. Someone had tried to murder this beautiful man in his bed. And whilst he was a vexing guardian, she was startled to discover a strong burst of emotion in her heart as she gazed down at him. A hot rush. Quite unique and unusual. Some elemental force of yearning, as if he were gravity and she a celestial body being pulled.
Shecaredfor the Duke of Ridgely.
When had it happened, and how? Was it a natural reaction born of his skillful kisses? Had it begun when she had watched him disrobing and spied the masculine perfection of his muscled back and chest? Or perhaps the reason was far less reliant upon the corporeal and instead produced by something else—the shock of learning someone had attempted to take his life.
She supposed the origin of the unwanted affection mattered not.
It was there, beating inside her heart, and she had no notion of how to excise it as she stood there, her greedy eyes drinking in every detail of his form. His strong jaw was shaded with whiskers. He hadn’t shaved. But of course, he hadn’t. He would have dressed out of necessity. Unbidden, the memory of him earlier that day, barefoot and disreputable in his silk banyan, made forbidden warmth burn in her belly. She had seen him as his lovers had, in that rare and private lack of polish, sans cravat and waistcoat and gleaming boots or shoes. More than once.
And she was seeing him now as the women he’d gone to bed with must have. In repose, his even breaths making his chest rise and fall, the natural smolder and almost raffish charm he possessed absent in his relaxed features. He looked, she thought, almost innocent. Young and free of the weighty responsibilities that ordinarily kept his jaw clenched and his eyes flinty.
Less ducal.
Less like the arrogant guardian who had punished her by taking her books.
The air was chilly in the library despite the fire in the hearth, for the room was cavernous, with a second level of books ringing its periphery. And Ridgely had no counterpane. She looked about for something which might be used to cover him, unwelcome tenderness creeping over her. Truly, she ought to simply reach for the nearest book and flee, making do with whatever tome she secured for distraction, before Ridgely was ever the wiser to her forbidden foray into the library.
