Page 47 of Tempting the Marquess

For one glorious moment the butler’s jaw dropped. Then his features smoothed into blankness, and he beckoned her inside. “I see. Wait here and I will inform the duke that you wish to speak withhim.”

A few minutes later the butler returned. “His grace is in the ground floor library. He’s a little...under the weather at the moment. Please follow me, mylady.”

As her slipper heels clicked along the marble foyer floor, Samantha suppressed a shiver. Langley House was like a museum. An elegant, lavish, soulless museum. So perfect, so silent, and so tidy, it didn’t even appear that people livedhere.

They reached a wide oak door, and Wallace knocked sharply. When a muffled growl of “enter” came, the butler opened the door, shoved her into the room like a blasted side of beef for a tiger, then shut the door behind her with a firm click.

Oh God. The library was even worse. Dark and oppressive, a neglected fire smoldered in the hearth, giving the wood paneling and ruby-red rugs a sinister air. The leather-bound books lining the walls were so pristine they didn’t even look read, and the priceless paintings offering a splash of color looked remarkably out of place. But it was the enormous carved desk that held her attention now, or more specifically, the man half-slumped behind it. That and the overpowering stench of stale brandy.

Anger surged, quelling her nerves. “A little early to be in this state, your grace. I didn’t think William had a drunk for a best friend.”

Southby choked on the gulp he’d just taken. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. I’m surprised to find you hiding in here, I thought you a far betterman.”

“I am not hiding. Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I’m recovering from a minor illness.”

“If you say so,” she snapped, and his frigid eyes shot daggers ather.

“Yes, I do. Now, as it is far too early for a morning call, is there something I can do to make you leave? Or must I throw your falsely cherubic little self out a window?”

Anger turned to pure fury, overwhelming all good sense.

Stalking over to the desk, Samantha picked up the half full glass and threw the contents in his face. He froze, staring at her with a comically stunned expression, and she almost wished she could sketch a keepsake. How positively human Alexander Langley, Duke of Southby, looked with brandy trickling down his cheeks and dripping from hisears.

“Throw me out, your grace? Fighting words from a drunk lounging in his library. To think my William is risking his life to save your brother. If something...if something should happen...” she finished on a choked sob, the agonizing thought too awful to even contemplate.

Southby pulled a square of linen from his pocket and wiped his face, before getting to his feet and walking over to where she stood. “Lady Samantha, I know—” he began, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She shrugged him off with a neat sidestep, and instead started hitting his broad chest with tightly clenched fists. “Damn you! Damn you a thousand times! Why did it have to be William? Anyone could have gone! What if he ishurt?”

“Stop it! William is extremely skilled and capable. He is...doing hisduty.”

“Duty? Duty! Only you could say something so stupid. This goes far beyond duty!” she shrieked, wanting to pummel him to the ground. Unfortunately, he had trapped her flying knuckles in his big hands.

“I said stop,” he snarled. “William must indeed be love-struck to want an unhinged harpy likeyou.”

Samantha halted, so stunned she collapsed against him. Love struck?

“What?” she asked cautiously, stepping back so she could peer up athim.

“You should be sent to a nunnery. For your own and others safety.”

“No, beforethat.”

Southby scowled, the stark contrast between his black eyebrows and pale green eyes even more ominous than usual. “I didn’t say anything. Now, at the risk of inciting further violence, is there a purpose to your visit?”

She ignored the words and studied him instead. Lines and dark shadows under his eyes made him look much older than thirty. A few days growth of dark beard covered his jaw, he wore no jacket or cravat, and his loose muslin shirt was crumpled with the sleeves rolledup.

England’s iciest, most assured noblemen looked a wreck.

“Yes, there is,” she said slowly. “I need to tell someone the waiting is unbearable. How I cannot eat or sleep, and every time there is a knock at the door I am hopeful and terrified at the sametime.”

“Then imagine it doubled,” Southby replied flatly, but his clenched jaw indicated a wealth of tightly leashed emotion. “I may be granted the return of both. Or one. Or neither.”

Shame engulfed her. “I’m so very sorry. I didn’t come here to commit assault but to find out if you had received anyword.”

His lips quirked, like the effort of a smile was too great. “They made it safely to Pontoise, a town outside of Paris. That is where Robert was evacuated to after…after the incident. But they were delayed by transport issues. That is all Iknow.”