Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Gritting her teeth, she rounded the desk. She tugged open the drapes to give her greater light as she began to rummage through the duke’s desk. She searched for one specific thing—a roster of Tenwick spies, or at the very least Tenwick servants. It was a start. From there she would have to find a reason to find herself in their company in order to observe them properly. She worked as quickly as possible, systematically going through the desk from corner to corner. She found nothing approaching the list she sought. In fact, she found multiple pieces of correspondence that didn’t even appear to be in English.

  When she reached the far edge, she put everything back in its place and sighed. “I should have known that would be too easy.” Although she’d never searched for a hidden compartment before, she hadn’t found anything in the duke’s desk that might have led to a hiding spot.

  Dejected, she slinked toward the door. Did she still have time to search another room? As she opened the door and slipped into the hall, she came face to face with Gideon and her question was answered. The shock and confusion on his face soon darkened into something more sinister.

  He did not look happy to see her. In fact, he looked as though he loathed her now more than ever.

  Even as Gideon searched his mind for a viable reason for Felicia to be here, stepping out of his brother’s office, he found nothing. She’s the enemy. The words swirled round and round his head, growing stronger with every revolution.

  No. She couldn’t be. Why would she agree to create a truth serum for the Crown only to sabotage her own project and draw his attention to it?

  What she was, was an untrained spy under his command. He was tasked with keeping her in line. At the moment, she was so far from in line, she might as well have been on a different continent.

  Besides which, there was no saboteur. She had been overreacting—and, most likely, still was.

  Glancing over his shoulder to ensure that they weren’t being watched, he crowded her, herding her back into Morgan’s office. Once there, he shut the door, leaning his full weight against it.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re in this wing of the house?”

  She crossed her arms. She wore the same dress as yesterday, a little tight across her chest. It emphasized her every curve. Biting the inside of his cheek, he forced his gaze to hers once more. If she was worried, she didn’t show it.

  “I’ll tell you after you tell me why you’re here.”

  Surely she wasn’t about to accuse him of wrongdoing. He lived here. He raised his eyebrows. “I have a report to give to Keeling as to our progress, since my brother is not here.”

  She opened her mouth and shut it once more.

  He frowned as he took in her rumpled clothes. She hadn’t even combed her hair yet this morning, judging by the way it fell around her shoulders in disarray. “Did you sleep in your clothes?”

  Her mouth tightened, mulish. “I did.”

  Even so, she would have changed into fresh clothing when she’d awoken, unless… “In your wagon?”

  When she dropped her arms to her sides, simultaneously balling them into fists, his instinct was to step back. Unfortunately, the door at his back prevented him from retreating.

  “Yes, in my wagon.”

  She answered his next question—why—before he fully opened his mouth.

  “Someone had to guard our project.”

  “This again,” he groaned. When he leaned his head back, his scalp cracked against the wooden door. Pain splintered across his skull. He fought not to wince.

  “Yes, this again.” Her eyes took on a pugnacious glint. She stepped closer, not that there had been more than two feet of space between them before.

  Now there was less than one and she had to stand on her tiptoes in an attempt to even her height with his. His neck ached as he craned it all the way down, still stiff from sleeping wrong last night.

  “Someone switched those labels, whether or not you want to believe it.”

  He didn’t contest that the labels had been switched—if she said they were correct earlier in the day, he believed her. He contested the fact that someone had done so with malicious intent.

  “It might have killed us.”

  That, he couldn’t protest. If he believed her claims as to the volatile nature of the raw sodium—and he did—they had been on the brink of disaster.

  He hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller to match her. It was in vain, but he hoped to avoid a shouting match in the middle of his brother’s office. Even he shouldn’t be in here.

  “I’ve already mentioned that over half of the servants here are spies or former spies.”

  Her mouth tightened but she didn’t contradict him.

  “What I didn’t mention is that spies retired due to injury or ones between assignment get bored easily. They have games between one another to see who can be the most observant, who can slip in and out of such a part of the mansion without detection, who can best whom. Consider every inch of these grounds watched at all times. To be honest, I’m not even certain that my bedchamber is private.” Though, given that he dressed in there, he hoped no one was spying on him. By now he had washed the damnable perfume off his skin, or he sensed that he might have walked in on a spy in his bed.

  At the moment, he would rather sleep alone.

  He clasped his hands behind his back to stifle the urge to run them through his hair. If he lifted them, he would brush against her, and he didn’t want the temptation.

  “Trust me when I tell you that the only people on the grounds are those who have a right to be here or who have been invited by the family. The household spies would know otherwise.”

  A triumphant smile crossed her face. The sight of it pinched him in the gut. Her eyes sparkled with a smug kind of allure.

  “Exactly.”

  She prodded him in the chest. Awareness spread through him like ripples, born of her touch.

  “It’s one of your spies. They’ve switched sides.”

  He’d never heard anything more ludicrous in his life. “My brother trained these spies himself. I trust his judgment.”

  She still hadn’t removed her hand. Her touch muddled his thoughts, as if she was the one to wear the perfume this time. When he breathed deep, he didn’t smell a hint of musk, only her. And she smelled incredible.

  He straightened his shoulders and forced himself to think about the matter at hand. “They’re loyal. In fact, I’d stake my life on it.”

  Her hand curled in his lapel for a moment before she dropped her hand. She didn’t step back. The heat of her body imprinted on his. He could have imagined the her shape with his eyes closed.

  Her words were a far cry from the lustful bent of his thoughts.

  “Still the stubborn prat, I see.”

  Her lip curled. He wanted to draw it into his mouth, to kiss the expression away.

  “You refuse to see what is in front of your face simply because you didn’t think of it first.”

  That wasn’t it at all…

  “Well, if it takes a woman to show you the truth, that is exactly what I’ll do.”

  He didn’t answer. Anything he said would only rile her further. From the set of her jaw and the glint in her eye, she refused to back down. And she called him stubborn.

  Raising his hand, he drew away a strand of her hair that had fallen onto her cheek. Kiss her.

  Don’t.

  He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

  He stepped to the side and opened the door for her to leave. From the saucy way she swung her hips as she strode past him, she thought she’d won the argument. At that moment, he didn’t feel as though he’d lost. His gaze dropped down to her rear as she strutted down the corridor to the main section of the house.

  No, he felt as though he was on the cusp of winning, if only he’d reach out and grab his prize. Turning, he strode in the opposite direction.

  Whatever he did, he refused to contribute to the madness between them. Felicia wa
s too confusing as it was.

  16

  After the high stress and frustration of the day, the quiet evening in front of the fireplace melted away the tension in Felicia’s shoulders. The steady tick, tick, tick of a grandfather clock reminded her of every moment that passed without her and Gideon making a breakthrough.

  Not that they would have screamed, “Eureka!” had they been working at that moment, if the lack of luck that day was any indication. However, Felicia wasn’t accustomed to leisure time. She stabbed her needle into the handkerchief, thinking of the problems with the serum at the back of her mind. Her theory was sound. Why was the application turning so awry?

  No, awry was the wrong word. Awry implied spectacular failures and mishaps. She had none of those. It simply wasn’t working. Though, to be honest, since Gideon had barred her from tasting her own work and refused to sample it himself, a lot of time was wasted tracking down an appropriate subject for the test each time. Felicia had even tried recreating one of her old attempts, the one that had come the closest to the desired effect, but hadn’t been able to replicate her results. Perhaps Gideon was right and the oils had weakened with time.

  If so, it would be a long time before they were able to complete their assignment. The plants weren’t in the right point of their life cycle to harvest the most potent oils.

  Felicia sucked in a breath as she accidentally stabbed herself in the finger. She stuck the digit in her mouth to soothe the sting and examined the handkerchief for blood. It was unmarred.

  At the small, square table set between two armchairs, Gideon glanced up. His eyebrows lifted quizzically. Averting her gaze, Felicia reapplied herself to her embroidery.

  Gideon moved a chess piece. He set it down with a decisive click. “Checkmate.”

  “What? Impossible!” Lucy tried to find a place to move her king, to no avail. With a disgusted sigh, she reset the board.

  Leaning back in the armchair, Gideon nursed his brandy and waited. His posture and expression were neutral. He didn’t say a word to brag about his victory. Likely, he feared losing another partner. His mother had already played him and lost, retiring with a book to the settee between Felicia and Charlie.

  Lucy glowered as she moved a pawn into the center of the board. “I will beat you this time.”

  Gideon grinned. “With what, the chess board?”

  He raised his arms to shield himself as she tried to smack him.

  “Bare-handed, I see.”

  Lucy made a noise reminiscent of Chubs when he didn’t want to move. The mastiff stirred from his lazy position on the rug in front of the fire.

  Kicking her brother beneath the table, Lucy said, “Make your move before I die of old age, please.”

  Felicia smiled as they exchanged banter. Although she didn’t know much about chess, she could tell that Gideon wasn’t playing to his strengths. Several times, he let his sister place him in check, only to turn the advantage around and pin her in a couple uncomfortable situations.

  Evelyn glanced up from her book, marking her place with one finger as she witnessed the match devolve into a childish fight. The dowager wore a fond smile. “He’s the closest to her age, you know.”

  Given the way Gideon spoke about his brothers, she had suspected he was the youngest of them. She nodded, but didn’t know what to contribute.

  Fortunately, Evelyn carried the conversation. “When they were small, Lucy used to follow him everywhere. They got into more scrapes than I can name.”

  As Gideon glanced up, his hair flopped into his eyes. He brushed the ebony locks away. “If I did, they were all of Lucy’s doing. I was an angel.” He deftly evaded her kick, moved his bishop, and in an absent tone of voice said, “Checkmate.”

  “Not again! You distracted me.” With a disgruntled huff, Lucy stood. She batted a lock of her hair out of her face. “I’m going to check on Antonia.”

  At the parrot’s name, Chubs perked up his ears. He lumbered to a stand.

  Lucy glared and jabbed a finger at him. “You can’t come. You’re the reason she doesn’t want to be in here with us.”

  Chubs parted his lips and his pink tongue fell out as he picked his way across the room to her. Felicia whistled. He paused near the door, glancing over his shoulder at her. When she pointed to the rug near the hearth, his ears pinned flat against his skull and he gave a plaintive whine.

  “None of that. Antonia doesn’t want to see you. Go lay down.”

  With slow, hulking steps, he crept across the parlor like he was a dog three times his age. He curled up on the rug, settling his head on his paws. He wore a pathetic look.

  Knowing this was all a part of his plan to terrorize the bird, Felicia ignored him.

  Linking his fingers together, Gideon stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles. “Who’s next? Mother? Charlie?”

  Charlie snorted. “I’d rather read Lucy’s book.”

  Given the level of enthusiasm she showed for the prospect, it was a good thing that Lucy was no longer in the room to hear.

  “Felicia, why don’t you play?” Evelyn suggested.

  She glanced up from her embroidery—one more stitch and she would have the finishing touch. Everyone’s eyes rested on her. She made the stitch and tied off the thread.

  “I’ve never played.”

  Gideon shrugged. “I’ll teach you. If you’re interested,” he added belatedly.

  He didn’t seem to hold it against her that she’d never played. If he’d looked smug or superior, she would have declined. However, he seemed genuinely interested in teaching her, so she soon found herself ensconced in Lucy’s place.

  Gideon patiently explained the rules as he set up the board. He then explained them again as they enacted the first game. When they came to a stalemate, he flipped his king on its side and they began in earnest.

  Chess was surprisingly fun. It was like a formula. She could predict some of his moves and reactions from having watched him play other people, but not all of them. Before she knew it, she found herself engrossed in the game. She lost twice and was in the process of possibly winning this time when the grandfather clock chimed the hour. It was after midnight.

  She glanced up. The fire had died down, giving off only enough light to see the outline of the pieces. No wonder her eyes ached. She rubbed at them as she surveyed the room, empty except for where Chubs snored and twitched by the fire.

  “When did the others leave?”

  Gideon smiled sheepishly. “I don’t recall. I suppose we’d better call it a night.”

  She hid a yawn behind her hand as she stood. “You’re only saying that because you’re afraid I’ll trounce you.”

  His eyebrow twitched as he accepted her hand to stand. Once he straightened, stretching his shoulders, he surrounded her.

  “I’ve already beaten you twice. What makes you think I wouldn’t be able to do it again?” His eyes glinted with the promise of the challenge.

  His smile faded into something more serious as the air charged between them. She dropped her hand, her skin tingling from contact with his. They stood close. If she stood on her tiptoes and leaned forward, he would probably take the hint and kiss her. Shifting on his feet, he narrowed the space between them.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs. She shouldn’t do this. Gideon had his entire life ahead of him and she…

  She had already turned her back on the chance for a lifelong romance. She didn’t need it; she could take care of herself. And, with the conflict between them over their shared project, neither of them needed a temporary fling.

  Stepping back, she snapped her fingers to call her dog to her. “Goodnight,” she said to Gideon, her voice soft.

  “Goodnight.”

  Was that disappointment in his eyes? No, it was a trick of the shadows. She scooped up a candle, lit it from the fire in the hearth, and left with Chubs padding on her heels.

  You made the right decision.

  Her stomach somersaulted, urging
her to change her mind and turn around. She steeled herself and hurried to the guest wing of the house.

  Lucky she’d cracked her window open earlier in the day—she might need some cold night air tonight.

  At the top of the stairs, Chubs balked. He whined, bunching the runner as he scrambled backward. Felicia frowned. “Chubs, what’s wrong?” She grabbed him by the collar and tried to pull him forward, but he wouldn’t budge.

  When she took a deep breath to steady herself, an acrid bite to the air scratched at the back of her throat. She coughed. Was that smoke?

  Releasing Chubs, she approached her room. The stench tainted the air. She touched the doorknob. It scalded her. There was a fire on the other side of her door.

  And Charlie and her mother slept in the rooms next to her.

  17

  For a brief, blissful moment, Giddy had lost all notion of common sense. If Felicia hadn’t stepped away, he would have kissed her. By night, he’d been tormented by dreams of her taste and the feel of her mouth beneath his. By day, he was reminded what an infuriating, stubborn, hot-tempered woman she was. While they attempted to work, he was constantly incensed with her and it showed in their lackluster results. But, in a fickle instant, he would have forgotten all the ways she irked him for the pleasure of her kiss.

  Given another second, he would have thrown caution to the wind and given in to temptation. She would have slapped him. He would have deserved it.

  It would have been worth it.

  Zeus, he needed a walk in the bitter cold evening. If that couldn’t douse the part of him that insisted kissing her was a good idea, he didn’t know what would.

  He exited into the gardens, the glass-encased walkway and the orangery beyond shimmering in the light of the moon. His breath fogged in front of his face, the chill immediately seeping through his thin jacket and into his bones. As he waited for common sense to return, he tucked his hands in his pockets. Felicia dominated his thoughts. He strode away from the abbey door, watching the shifting play of moonlight on the glass of the orangery.

  Wait. There was no moon out tonight. What…?