Forsaking the Prize

by Boyd, Heather

He snorted. Thoughts should not be committed to paper. It served no good in the end. “So, not a love match for them?”

  Lady Venables hands clenched at her waist. “Perhaps it was for her, in the beginning, but not by the end. I feel rather sorry for her actually. She was utterly ignored, and despised by his family, if her ramblings are to be believed.”

  Sounded like a typical society marriage from all he’d heard of them, yet Lady Venables sounded disapproving. Marriage was for money, and for position. His parents were an exception. They had loved each other very openly until the very last moments.

  He glanced at his companion. “I take it you married for love and not for your husband’s title?” Tobias immediately cursed his tongue. That subject, speaking of the late Lord Venables, was one Leopold had warned him to particularly avoid. His brother had not wanted her emotions stirred up again and this topic of conversation was sure to do so.

  “I did,” she said quietly. Her gaze dropped to her clenched fingers. She didn’t look up again.

  Tobias scrounged for something appropriate to say in response. He’d made her sad and he simply had to lift her spirits again before Leopold noticed his mistake. “Then he was the luckiest of men.”

  She tilted her head as she met his gaze. “I would have thought you held little store in the value of marrying for love.”

  He lifted his hand and slid his finger along her jaw gently. “I had parents, B. They were in each other’s pockets from sun up till sundown, and what happened after sundown between them is not something I need to think about.”

  She stepped away from his touch. “Don’t shorten my name.”

  “As you wish, countess, but your title is quite a mouthful to say.” He leaned close to her again. “No one will hear me do it. It’ll be our secret. I promise.”

  “You? A promise?”

  Tobias smiled tightly. She didn’t know a thing about him. After the fright he’d given her, why shouldn’t she be wary? But still, it irked him not to be believed. “I never break my promises, B. You should reconcile yourself to that. Life is too uncertain without burdening others with avoidable disappointments.”

  She twirled about and swept out of the room as if the devil chased her.

  Frustrating woman! How the devil had he gotten stuck living in close quarters with a lady of her temperament? She’d drive him mad or to drink. If it wasn’t too early in the day, as judged by Leopold’s repeated warnings about imbibing before noon, Tobias would already have a glass in hand.

  Life in Romsey was turning out to be a disappointing venture all round. Rules, rules, and more rules. He could not smoke in the house, maids were off-limits, as was gambling with Murphy, Leopold’s new assistant, and seducing proper women like Lady Venables. Not an ounce of adventure to be found inside Romsey Abbey. This acting the gentleman business was no easy lark.

  He considered the shelves before him. Trust the duke to have been up to his neck in muck and scandal. He plucked a thin journal from the shelf, and then tucked it under his arm. Maybe he should peruse the duke’s papers and help find his missing siblings. It would give him something useful to do while he waited to find his heiress.

  He strolled out the doorway and closed the duke’s sanctuary. By the time he turned around, Lady Venables had resumed her study of her journal, sitting stiffly in her previous place. Tobias hated being ignored. Their conversation had been the only bright point of his day. So, knowing full well that it wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do, Tobias stretched out on the opposite empty lounge, propped the book up on his chest and set one highly polished boot heel on the tip of the other to make himself comfortable to read.

  Hopefully, something in the book would capture his interest before he did something rash. Seducing the countess to smile, or even engaging in something more scandalous, was terribly tempting.

  Five

  Good lord Tobias Randall had the habits of a cat. Blythe’s gaze was drawn to him repeatedly as he shifted restlessly on the lounge, flicking pages of the book he’d brought with him, and then rearranging his limbs until he was comfortable again. The man’s behavior was beyond belief. She was dreading the outing to Lady Dunwoody’s soiree.

  She’d do her best to shield her friends from Tobias Randall’s blunt conversation if she could, but there was a great chance that he would embarrass them if he continued to talk so boldly. He hadn’t altered enough to be considered a gentleman. It was clear his brother’s lessons hadn’t taken.

  Mr. Randall laid the book down on his chest. Their eyes met and warning bells rang through her mind before she wrenched her gaze away. Damn him. He always seemed to know just when she was looking at him. She kept her face free of expression, and then bowed her head to the frustrating page before her.

  The problem was she couldn’t seem to focus on the journal easily today. Why couldn’t the former Duke of Romsey have been a straight-forward man? Must everything be a riddle to solve? He could have at least given clearer clues as to where Oliver and Rosemary Randall had been taken. But no, he had to act like he was a grand spymaster. Everything in code, everything jumbled.

  Blythe closed the book and pinched the bridge of her nose. Confounded headache. She didn’t need one today.

  He rose from his spot, and passed by her left shoulder on his way to the drawing room door. Thank heavens he was going to take himself away. With him gone, she might have a chance to relax the way she used to. She might even be able to put her feet up on the footstool until her headache passed.

  “A letter has arrived for you, Lady Venables.”

  Blythe jumped out of her skin, startled by Wilcox’s sudden presence at her side. She hadn’t realized he’d come into the room and she hurried to close the journal to prevent him reading the contents. She took the note and waited until he exited the room.

  Once he was gone, she flipped the letter over. Venables seal. What could her stepson possibly want with her now?”

  She broke open the note and scanned it. The cold hand of dread washed over her skin. Venables had heard she’d abandoned Walden Hall for the delights, as he put it, of Romsey Abbey. He insisted that she honor their agreement and return home, or he would consider their arrangement invalid. Blythe bit her lip. He was within his rights to expel her from Walden Hall because there was little provision made in her late husband’s will. Her stepson was not a gentleman in the true sense of the word. He gave her no choice but to leave Romsey Abbey.

  She glanced at her sister. Mercy’s brow creased into a frown and she left Leopold to come to her side.

  Rather than explain, Blythe handed her the note.

  Her sister read it quickly. “Why that horrible man. How could he?”

  Blythe folded the note and stuffed it into her pocket. “He has every right and you know it. We’ve been over this many times.”

  “Still, I had hopes for him being a little more like his father.”

  Blythe smiled tightly. “As I had.”

  Mercy covered her hands and squeezed. “Remember your promise to remain here, sister. If needs be, I’ll speak to Venables and if he will not heed my suggestions I will make sure everyone in the district learns of his tight fisted ways and broken promises. His father was well known for his generosity. He’d turn in his grave over these events.”

  “Don’t. I can stay a few days and then I must return to Walden Hall. I cannot remain with you forever and you know it.”

  “I don’t see why not. Lady Dunwoody has a complete stranger residing with her at her country estate and no one thinks twice about Mrs. Raglan. They will hardly bat an eye if I house a family member under my roof. Don’t argue with me.”

  As Mercy rejoined Leopold across the room, Blythe shook her head. She couldn’t remain with her sister indefinitely.

  “A drink, B?” Tobias muttered softly. “You look like you could use one.”

  Blythe glanced at the hand hovering beside her face, holding a glass of sherry. The cut on his calloused thumb had healed to a red line, but nothing
had softened his hands from the evidence of the hard life he’d endured before he returned to Romsey Abbey. She took the glass. Her hardships were nothing to what he must have suffered. She would survive this setback. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He rounded the lounge to sit beside her. “Don’t worry yourself too greatly over the journals.”

  If only that were the whole of her problems. She sipped her drink. “Someone needs to read them. Who knows what might be found.”

  Tobias leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “My father once said that the old duke preferred all eyes on him. It is not right for a beautiful woman to spend all of her time pondering the goings on of a man long dead and unlamented. He shouldn’t have that much importance, and surely not for you.”

  Blythe frowned. “Why not for me?”

  “Well, as you’ve mentioned before, you are not a Randall. This is our burden, our problem, not yours. What do you normally do with your time, B?”

  Blythe swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. What did she do with her life? She visited with Mercy and Edwin until she felt she had to go home. But when she was home she didn’t feel comfortable there. It was unsettling to be a guest in the house you lived in, but that was where all her memories of her son came from. The house could never be hers. It was entailed and, as her stepson liked to remind her, he could take possession of it any time he chose.

  “What were you thinking of just then, B? I swear the expression in your eyes could break a heart.”

  Blythe sipped a mouthful of her drink before answering. “It’s nothing.”

  “The letter?”

  “Is none of your concern, either, sir.”

  “Well, you should talk to someone about these nothings one of these days. Problems are easier to bear when shared, and all that.”

  Since when did she need advice from a man? She sat up straighter. “Which is why I am helping with these journals.”

  Tobias Randall chuckled softly. “Clever, clever girl. You never actually answered me. Keep your secrets, my lady, and I’ll hope they’ll come to naught, whatever they are.”

  Had Tobias Randall been replaced by an imposter? He was actually being nice! There had to be some game afoot. She studied him. “What do you want?”

  His lips pursed, and then a wicked grin twisted his lips as his gaze dipped down to her bodice and slid back up again. “Judging from your mode of dress, I don’t think you’ll let me have it so I’ll take a smile in place.” He winked.

  Blythe sucked in a shocked breath. The pirate was still there, beneath the properly tied cravat and neatly trimmed hair, and determined to make her uncomfortable. She’d been foolish to believe otherwise for even a moment.

  A sharp rap on the door interrupted and they both turned toward the sound. Unfortunately, that put her face within inches of Tobias Randall’s. She leaned away quickly as a hot flush stole over her cheeks as she listened to the butler.

  “Lord Archibald and Miss Emma Trimble, Your Grace.”

  Emma had come. Oh, dear heavens. She met Tobias’ gaze. “Please behave as a gentleman. Emma is a dear friend of mine and I would not like to have her made uncomfortable by your forward behavior.”

  She clenched her hands together, hoping that for once Mr. Randall might be agreeable and not make a fuss about doing so. He was very fond of arguing over trivial matters with his brother. Good manners were essential around her friends.

  His brow rose. “A very good friend, eh? Well, this could be interesting. I should like to know who is deemed worthy of your praise.”

  He stood and moved away to another chair. Blythe let out a relieved breath. Maybe he would not cause an uncomfortable scene.

  “Do show them in, Wilcox,” Mercy said, “and arrange for tea please.”

  The butler tipped his head. “Very good, Your Grace.”

  Wilcox disappeared from sight for a moment then returned to show Emma and her cousin, Lord Archibald, into the drawing room. Both spoke warmly to Mercy, and were introduced to Leopold and Tobias Randall.

  When Lord Archibald appeared ready to engage Mercy and the men in exclusive conversation, Emma caught both her hands and squeezed. “My dear, how are you?”

  “I am very well, Emma. And you?”

  “Oh, I am always well,” she whispered. “But I would like to speak with you in private as soon as possible if I could. It is a very urgent matter.”

  Had Lord Archibald finally proposed to Emma? She dearly hoped so. “Of course you may.” Blythe caught Mercy’s eye and tilted her head to show they were going to ease away to speak privately. Mercy wouldn’t mind. Blythe would relay the conversation later if it was truly important.

  When Mercy inclined her head, Blythe caught Emma’s arm and they strolled toward the windows where their voices wouldn’t carry too easily. “What is the urgent matter?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.” Emma squeezed her hands tightly. “You have been staying here for weeks. That is not like you.”

  Blythe untangled their fingers. “I am helping Mercy solve a puzzle and it is easier if I remain here than travel back and forth every day.”

  “What kind of puzzle?”

  A matter that was of great importance, but possibly scandalous. She had to tread carefully. “Oh, Emma. I wish I could speak freely on the subject, but I cannot.”

  A bright blush stole over Emma’s neck. “Is it about him?”

  Blythe frowned. “Which him?”

  “Mr. Tobias Randall silly. He’s watching you.”

  Blythe glanced across the room. Emma was correct, but at this distance she couldn’t determine exactly which one of them he had his eye on. Annoying man. He had better keep a distance from her friend. She pasted an unconcerned expression on her face. “Mr. Randall is not an issue. He is the duke’s cousin and has returned to visit with him and the duchess.”

  Emma’s gaze lingered on the pirate. “For how long?”

  Now there was the question of the month. Just how long would Tobias Randall stay at Romsey? How long would she have to suffer his blunt invitations to share his bed? At least until the wedding and for some time beyond, perhaps, unless he found something else to do with his time. Sadly, even a distraction couldn’t be counted on. He was frequently underfoot. “For as long as he wants, I imagine. His brother proposed to Mercy you know.”

  “Yes, I heard. Are you happy about it?”

  “Of course I am. Despite the swiftness of the proposal, he has fallen completely in love with her. They are smitten.”

  Emma giggled. “I never expected her to marry again. I thought she would remain a widow as you will.”

  Blythe pressed her lips together to cover her surprise. Did people think she would remain an eternal widow? Blythe hadn’t given the matter much thought before. She was still heartbroken over the loss of Raphael and Adam. Losing your whole family was not an easy thing to recover from, but she’d never actually decided to live alone forever. She took a deep breath, pushing the matter from her mind, and offered Emma a wry smile. “I didn’t expect Mercy to remarry either. But they make each other happy and that’s all there is to it.”

  Emma sighed. “I suppose that I will just have to be blunt and come right out and ask you my question. They’re saying that you remain close to the young duke because you fear Mr. Randall’s influence and that you’re attempting to keep him at a distance. Why would people say such a thing if you like him?”

  “Because society at large has the intelligence of a flea,” Tobias grumbled as he joined them. “Lady Venables stays because she is fond of her family. Whoever is spreading such preposterous rumors?”

  Emma’s face changed to a bright shade of pink. “I. Ah,” she stammered.

  “Mr. Randall, there is no need for such impertinent questions,” Blythe said quickly. “Rumors cannot hurt one when there is no hint of truth behind them.”

  And really, any rumors involving herself were none of his business, but sh
e was thankful this particular rumor did not bring her sanity into question.

  “Rumors have to start somewhere, my lady. I should like to know where this one in particular began.” His brow rose until he appeared as haughty as anyone she’d ever come across in society.

  But Blythe was curious about the rumor, too. “It is a good question though, Emma. Do you have any idea how it might have started?”

  Emma fidgeted. “My maid mentioned something yesterday morning. I called at Walden Hall afterward and again today to ask you about it. When you were not at home, I had no choice but to come see you. It is a terrible thing they are suggesting. Surely Her Grace can be relied upon to determine the true character of the man she is going to marry.”

  “Of course she is. The duchess has no time for imbeciles,” Tobias Randall added in a tone that brooked no argument. Blythe found his support for Mercy the nicest thing he’d ever done or said.

  Wilcox arrived just then with the tea tray and Emma quickly returned to a chair close to Mercy when she was summoned.

  Tobias caught Blythe’s sleeve to delay her from joining the others. “The servants are always the first to speculate,” he whispered. “Which means Her Grace’s staff are responsible for the talk about you.”

  She sighed as she pulled her sleeve from his grip. “At least they are not saying I’m mad.”

  “You might be relieved, but I don’t like talk that sets you at odds with our family.”

  Blythe peered up at the pirate and scowled. “What would such talk matter to you?”

  A look of chagrin crossed his features. “I frightened you, B. You might not expect it, or believe me, but that weighs quite heavily on my conscience. I would prefer to be on good terms with my brother’s future family.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I’m not afraid of you.”

  A sudden smile crossed his face. “So happy to hear that. Does that mean hostilities are at an end?”

  “As long as you keep a distance.”

  His brow rose. “So, no more climbing through windows?”

  “Absolutely not. My window will remain locked.”