Miss Goldsleigh's Secret

by Amylynn Bright

  Dalton placed the glass on a nearby table and leaned forward, leaning his forearms on his knees, and hung his head. He didn’t want any more whiskey. Where before the punishment was satisfying in an unsavory way, he knew from experience the self-pity to follow would only make him feel worse.

  He also knew Morewether was right.

  He wasn’t a philandering sort of man, and he’d never been able to play fast and loose with the emotions of women. He was all too familiar with the tendency of the women in his own life to profess their feelings were unattached a beau, but he’d always known they were upset when their feelings weren’t reciprocated. His women were no different from every other female in the world. On the few occasions where he’d had an understanding with a woman, feelings always got in the way, and he abhorred that mess. No matter what expectations were set at the beginning, there were always tears at the end.

  “If you don’t want a relationship, then find yourself a pretty little bawdy girl. Flip up her skirts and you’ll feel much better.” Morewether toasted Dalton with that fine idea.

  “Spoken like a true cad.”

  Again with the shrug. “I may be a cad, but I’m not the one complaining of aching stones.”

  “Don’t you ever think, ‘That woman could be my sister’?”

  “No! What is wrong with you?” Morewether threw him an outraged look. “I never think of my sister, mother, or the damn vicar’s wife while that’s going on. Is that what your problem is? That’s twisted.”

  “Stop it, you dolt. What I mean is those women are likely someone’s sister. They’re certainly someone’s daughter.”

  Morewether shook his head sadly at his friend. “You are entirely too responsible for your own good. What has gotten into you tonight?”

  Dalton rolled his eyes and reconsidered the glass of whiskey. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel better if I just get it over with.”

  Morewether guffawed. “You act like you’re losing your virginity. You’re a grown man. We have needs.” The duke levered himself out of the chair and paced the room to the bellpull. “I’m calling for the carriage. Let’s go find you something pretty to play with tonight instead of yourself. I’m in the mood for a curly-haired brunette. Or maybe two.”

  Dalton had to laugh at his idiot friend’s attempt to lighten his mood, although he didn’t doubt for one minute that Morewether wouldn’t lustfully toss two pretty brunettes if the opportunity arose. On the other hand, the only female on Dalton’s mind was an ethereal beauty with eyes the color of the morning sky.

  Morewether hustled Dalton into the entrance hall and out the door before he changed his mind. The duke tossed his arm around Dalton’s shoulder as they walked down the steps to the street. “Think warm, soft, and plump in all the right places.”

  Dalton was thinking about it, and that didn’t help. The problem was it wasn’t a nameless stranger filling his thoughts. Olivia was a petite, curvy vision of loveliness who’d be sliding into bed about now and she was in his house. His imagination ran wild at the thought of what she was wearing, or not wearing. Oh, sweet Jesus.

  The cool night air managed to bring Dalton out of his head enough to notice the shadowy form across the street. He squinted into the darkness, and the shape solidified into the figure of a man. Whoever it was didn’t move once it was obvious Dalton had seen him. The man’s steady stare and immobile stance spoke of villainy. Dalton had had his drink, but he’d yet to satisfy his earlier urge to hit someone, and this fellow seemed like an invitation.

  Dalton ignored the salacious talk from Morewether, shrugged his friend’s arm from his shoulders, and started across the street.

  “Who are you?” Dalton demanded. “I said, who are you?” He walked the remaining four paces and stood towering over the man. He was roughly dressed and filthy, but he did have the sense to look afraid. “What are you doing in Mayfair?” Dalton took another intimidating step into the man’s space.

  “Nothin’, your lordship. Just watchin’.”

  “That seems unlikely,” Dalton said. “Save yourself a call to the watch and tell me what’s so bloody interesting about this house.”

  “Yes,” Morewether added from somewhere close behind Dalton. “Do tell.”

  The man didn’t speak, and Dalton grabbed his arm and gave him a rough shake. “I’m not in any mood, chap.”

  “Leggo,” the man protested. “I wasn’t paid enough to get tossed around by a couple of uppity gents.”

  Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean paid? Who paid you to watch this house?”

  Morewether had become infinitely more interested in the conversation as he drew up beside him.

  “Wasn’t the house I was paid to watch,” the rough man said. “It was you, you and the small lady, but mostly her.”

  Dalton knew right away who the man referred to. Why would anyone be watching Miss Goldsleigh? He hadn’t received a report back on any of his queries about her cousin, but this was one hell of a clue.

  “Who is her?” Morewether asked.

  Dalton waved the duke off and focused his attention on the man who was squirming in his grip to get away. He gave the man another vicious shake. “Who paid you?”

  “Leggo,” the man yelled. A twist and a turn and one well-aimed stomp on Dalton’s foot and the slippery man got loose. Dalton gave chase, Morewether close behind, but after a block in the black night, the man disappeared in the shadows. Dalton was too worried about Miss Goldsleigh and the thug’s cryptic explanation to pursue him blindly through the alleyways when accomplices could be anywhere.

  “I have to get home,” Dalton panted.

  “Take the carriage and go.” Morewether gestured back at the house where the carriage was pulling up. “I’ll call the watch and keep up the search.”

  Dalton was already halfway to the carriage.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She wasn’t in her room. A maid had verified it. She also wasn’t in Warren’s. Warren was sound asleep, his splinted and wrapped arm propped up on a pillow and his legs tangled in the sheets and blankets. Dalton peered into the velvet darkness, but he didn’t see Olivia next to the bed or seated in the chair nearby.

  “Miss Goldsleigh,” he called out in a loud whisper to make certain. “Olivia.” Damn.

  Since someone followed him to Morewether’s, had someone else stayed here to watch Miss Goldsleigh? Had they snatched her after the ladies went to bed? Dalton stood in the hall and stared at nothing as he worked his way through what to do next. He systematically checked each of his sister’s rooms and all of them were accounted for, sound asleep in their beds right where they were supposed to be. So whoever took her did it after everyone went to bed. After he left the house. Damn. Damn. Damn. Dalton strode swiftly back along the hall and loped down the stairs to talk with Siegfried. Together they’d rouse the footmen and start with a systematic search of the windows and doors, then a thorough canvassing of the grounds of the townhouse by torchlight for any clue as to how the villains got in.

  He resisted the urge to panic. There was no point in awakening his family. They wouldn’t be able to help and of course they would panic, which would set off a whole cavalcade of hysteria.

  There was the ominous they again. When he got his hands on them, they were going to wish they were dead. Dalton concentrated on channeling his panic to fury. He refused to allow himself to think of sweet, tiny Miss Goldsleigh… No. Simply saying you weren’t going to think about it always caused you to think about it. She was a resourceful girl. He’d find her and get her back.

  He rounded the corner to his study and stopped. The light was on. The glow of a lamp shown through the space at the floor. He didn’t have a weapon, but he could be assured the thief in his private rooms would have one, maybe even his own gun he kept locked in the bottom desk drawer. Looking around, Dalton grabbed a Greek statue off a pedestal, a woman garbed in a toga-like gown with her arm raised high. He should be able to do some damage with that if he got a chance.r />
  He listened with his ear against the wood but could hear nothing. Dalton threw open the door and charged into the room, Grecian lady at the ready. The only other person in the room whirled from the desk and screamed in surprise. Her long hair fanned out behind her when she spun.

  Olivia clutched at her heart. “Oh my God! You scared me half to death.”

  Dalton lowered his arm and the Grecian lady with it. “What are you doing in here?” His tone was much harsher than he intended. What he wanted to do was crush her gorgeous body to his and kiss her until his heart started beating in a normal rhythm again.

  “I’m so sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to intrude into your private room.” She clasped her hands underneath her breasts, which served to draw his gaze there like a magnet.

  “What are you wearing?” he demanded. “For God’s sake, Miss Goldsleigh, you can’t be running around a man’s house in the middle of the night wearing flimsy nightgowns.”

  Olivia looked down at her night rail. The plain white cotton gown buttoned up to her neck, and a dainty pink ribbon tied in a bow closed the top at her throat. At the bottom, ruffles barely allowed for her slippered toes to peek out from under the hem. Additionally, a thicker pale-pink cotton robe embroidered with flowers covered the gown. The fact that she was more covered in her current attire than she was in the blasted evening gown from earlier did nothing to rein in his imagination. These were the clothes she wore in bed. In bed, for heaven’s sake.

  Olivia’s eyes beseeched him. Damn azure-blue eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord. Truly. It wasn’t my intent to disturb your peace.” She moved away from the desk. “I’ll go back to my room.”

  “Disturb my peace.” He snorted and caught her by the arm as she tried to skirt past him. “My peace has most definitely been disturbed.”

  Olivia looked at his hand gripping her arm above her elbow. “I don’t know how else to say how sorry I am for coming into your study uninvited, my lord. Your sisters explained it was your sanctuary, and I was wrong to come here.”

  Dalton did not release her arm. He liked holding her, even if it was just an elbow. He liked holding her a hell of a lot better than searching for her kidnapped body. “So why are you here in the middle of the night? In my private room? In your nightclothes? Why aren’t you in bed?” My bed.

  Olivia blushed but didn’t try to pull her arm away. “Please don’t be angry at me when I tell you.”

  Angry? Was she in cahoots with the man who followed him tonight? Was letting her in his house a huge mistake? Whether or not she had designs on robbing his house, letting her in had been a terrible error in judgment.

  Dalton’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “That remains to be seen, Miss Goldsleigh, but I can assure you I will be more angry if I have to work to get the truth out of you.”

  Her adorable little chin came up in a look of defiance, and she wrenched her elbow out of his grip. “I dare say no matter what I tell you, it will make you angry. I’ve already apologized for invading your private room.”

  Dalton placed both fists on his hips and stared down at her in a stance that effectively cowed his sisters.

  “Do you think to intimidate me with your height, my lord?” She set her hands on her hips in a mockery of him. “When you’re short, you learn not to let tall people get the best of you just by their virtue of height. Everyone is taller than me.”

  “Why are you sneaking around my study in the middle of the night?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking around.” Her lush mouth formed a defiant line, her lips pursed tightly in annoyance.

  “Were you invited into my study?” When she didn’t respond to his question, he took a step closer to her, narrowing the gap. He didn’t believe for one moment she didn’t feel something with him towering above her. She had to. He could feel it. He couldn’t help being impressed when she did not take a step back.

  “No, my lord, I was not. As I said, I am sorry for having disturbed your sanctuary. I’ll go back to my room now and vacate your precious study.” She turned on her heel and made as if to march away. Dalton snagged her by the sash of her robe.

  “I don’t think so.” He pulled her backwards towards the center of the room. “We have a few things to discuss, you and I.”

  Olivia issued an outraged huff and pulled away from him, but he was stronger.

  “I wanted to see the bills, all right? That’s why I was in here.” She untied her sash and slipped out of her robe, thinking she could escape him. Lord in Heaven above, that left her in just her nightgown.

  “What bills?” He was distracted by the fact that she now appeared before him, an outraged sprite in her flowing white, nightgown. Her breasts heaved against the fabric in her fury.

  “The modiste bills,” she bit out. “And the milliner’s and the tailor’s and the haberdasher’s.”

  He tore his gaze away from her breasts. A person couldn’t concentrate with that going on right in front of him. “Whatever for?” He stupidly held her robe in one hand, the fabric trailing on the floor.

  “So I know precisely how much I owe you.” Olivia hadn’t calmed down at all. Several huge curls had fallen over her shoulder during the tussle and now lay across the breasts that so captivated him. She pushed her hair behind her shoulder with an angry flip of her fingers, and that broke his trance.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. How many times do I have to tell you? You owe me nothing.”

  “That is simply unacceptable. I will know the amount I owe you so I can pay you back.” She glared up at him in stubborn mutiny. Dear God, she was stunning, contesting his word with her righteous fury. She held her ground like an irate pixie.

  “Why can’t you take a gift graciously?”

  “A gift? This isn’t a gift. This is ridiculous. A gift.” She snorted.

  “Yes, a gift.”

  “Let me see the bills and I’ll leave your inner sanctum in peace, never to trouble you here again.”

  As long as she’s in my house, she’s going to trouble me.

  That thought brought him back to the other issue of the evening.

  Dalton realized he was still holding her robe. He peered at it quizzically then tossed it on the leather sofa. “You’ve managed to distract me from the real issue at hand with this nonsense about the bills.”

  Olivia shook her head as if trying to clear it of a fog. “I don’t know how many ways I can say I’m sorry for coming in here.”

  “Are you in league with others to steal from my house?” Henry didn’t really think it was true—the accusation rang false even to his ears—but what if…?

  Olivia’s response was swift and, without a doubt, unrehearsed, her expression one of complete outrage. “You think because I was in here looking… Why would I…? What do you…? I told you I wanted to pay you back, not steal from you.”

  “Forget about the room and the invoices for a minute, will you?” Dalton never raised his voice, but this woman tried his patience like even his sisters never had. She was like a damned badger. “I caught a man following me this evening. What do you know about that?”

  Olivia closed her gaping mouth and honestly looked perplexed. “Nothing, my lord. Why would I know about that?”

  “Because when confronted, he said he was being paid to follow us, you and me.” His gaze narrowed, determined to get to the bottom of this story without letting her fairy charms distract him. “What do you supposed he meant by that?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” She threw the words back at him, but behind the anger he sensed…fear.

  “Are you telling me the truth, Olivia?” They were harsh words, but he must know. He wouldn’t stand for his family to be in danger. The trick worked, and her fear morphed back into anger. If the accusation set off her ire, then it proved to him she wasn’t in cahoots with the man.

  “I would never dream of harming Penelope in any way, nor your aunt—”

  With the loss of her antagonism, Dalton felt his slip away as well. “I imagine it has something
to do with your cousin, don’t you?” he asked in a quiet voice. He considered the idea that having her cousin back in her life would scare her a great deal. Olivia’s reaction was more than he expected, however.

  “Reginald?” she said with real horror in her voice. “Why do you think that would have anything to do with him?”

  “Gut feeling, I guess.” Dalton feared she might faint again. He clasped her elbow anew in an effort to stabilize her. What in the world had that man done to her to create such fear? “I’ve been making some inquiries.”

  Olivia looked at him in sheer terror. “Oh no.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment, then pressed them to her cheeks. Olivia seemed to peer off into the distance, as if calculating something.

  “Miss Goldsleigh, are you all right?” She didn’t seem to hear him. “I want to assure you I won’t let him get to you.”

  “What?” She shook her head and focused on him again. “That’s kind of you, but it won’t help. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can pack up my things, tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

  “You’re not leaving.” That was nonnegotiable. He couldn’t protect her if she left.

  “I appreciate all your kindness, truly I do, but you have to understand, I can’t stay here. Not now. Not if that man was really following me because of my cousin.”

  “Miss Goldsleigh, you and Warren will stay here. I can protect you from your cousin. I’ll resolve the issue with your father’s solicitor.” Dalton clasped her hand in his. It was so small it seemed to epitomize all that was Miss Goldsleigh: fragile yet strong. “You have nothing to fear here.”

  Olivia laughed, a mirthless noise tinged with hysteria. “Fear?” Her laughter sounded remarkably like sobs before she covered her mouth with her free hand.

  Wouldn’t you think I’d be immune to women’s tears by now? But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be expected to ignore tears of fear. He pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arms like he would have done one of his sisters if she were afraid. Except she wasn’t his sister.