Kendall turned and whispered in his ear, “Patience, my friend. At least we’re making it past the front door.”
The butler showed them into a white drawing room and shut the door.
“Do you know where Julianna’s rooms are?” Kendall asked Rhys the moment the butler left.
“No. I don’t,” Rhys said, pacing anxiously back in forth in front of the windows, feeling like a caged animal.
Kendall bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, I suggest you take your best attempt at guessing, because I have every reason to believe Montlake will not let you past this drawing room.”
“He’s never been my biggest proponent,” Rhys admitted with a wry smile.
Kendall opened the door and peered out into the corridor. “The foyer is empty. I suggest you make a break for the staircase and hope to hell you choose the correct bedchamber.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Rhys was only halfway up the staircase when a commotion in the foyer made him glance down. Montlake was there, along with his butler, who’d just caught sight of Rhys. When the butler pointed up at him, Rhys sprinted for the top of the staircase and flew down the second-floor corridor that was lined with doors on either side.
Footsteps thundering on the staircase told him he didn’t have much time. He opened the first door on the right. “Julianna?”
“Who is it?” came Mary Montgomery’s sleepy voice.
Blast.He’d chosen poorly. “My apologies,” he said softly before backing out and pulling the door shut. He’d turned to try the next door when the Duke of Montlake lunged at Rhys and tackled him to the ground.
“Get out of my house, Worthington!” Montlake yelled as they wrestled together on the floor.
“I must speak to Julianna. I love her!” Rhys yelled.
“Not while I’m alive and breathing,” Montlake thundered back.
“Why are you so against me?” Rhys asked, trying to push the much-heavier man off of him.
“You’re a drunken lout,” Montlake insisted. He had Rhys by the ankle.
“No, I’m not.” Rhys tried to kick off his hold.
“Really? At present you appear to be drunken, and I can vouch for you being a lout,” was Montlake’s reply.
“I love your daughter,” Rhys shot back.
“So do I, and I refuse to allow her reputation be sullied by your antics.”
Rhys had nearly got his leg free when the door to the bedchamber he had entered opened and Lady Mary came out wearing a dressing gown.
She glanced down at the two men on the floor. “What is happening, Papa?” Her eyes were wide, and her voice was filled with concern.
“Go back to bed, darling,” Montlake answered. “I’m just ridding the house of some vermin.”
“Mr. Worthy?” Mary asked, squinting down at the two men who were still wrestling each other on the floor.
“Who?” Montlake asked.
“Why are you fighting Mr. Worthy, the groomsman from Lord Clayton’s estate?”
They both stopped wrestling and stared up at Mary. Then they rolled apart and sat across from each other, their backs against the opposite walls, both still breathing heavily from their exertions, both still giving the other a distrustful stare.
“What are you talking about, Mary?” her father asked.
Mary leaned down as if to get a better view of Rhys in the dark. “Yes, that’s him. That’s Mr. Worthy from Lord Clayton’s estate. Anna and I met him during our stay in August.”
