The note of objection rang clear in his tone, but her brain refused to allow that note to enter. “You seem awfully interested in my brother.”
He shrugged. “I am merely trying to understand you.”
“And you believe you can understand me by questioning my care for Leo?”
“Is there a better way than this?” He averted his gaze to the garden beyond the window. “How else can we truly understand a person, if not by what lies in their heart?”
“Do you not gain this with reciprocity?”
His gaze returned to her. “In other words, you’re asking what there is in my heart?”
Her pulse stuttered. She couldn’t deny that she was curious. “Quite so.”
“Intention.”
Louisa scrunched her brow. Intention? Did all hearts not harbor this? What else would there be in a person’s heart if not their intentions? Wasn’t this the very foundation of every single action ever taken? Her own intentions were born of a desire to protect her brother from the darker intentions in another person’s heart—Camilla’s.
As vague answers went, this one was unsettlingly evasive. Also, very much in line with the man before her. Elusive. Mysterious. Entirely questionable. Yet every line of his posture was indeed imbued with a sense ofintention, of purpose. But what purpose was it?
“If you didn’t want to answer,” she said, her tone dry, “you need only have said so.”
“That would have been rude.”
Louisa bit back a retort, deciding for the sake of her sanity, to let it go. “Well, let us take our intentions to the library.” Speaking on matters of the heart with the Duke of Mortimer was anything but heartening. It was terrifying.
She must not forget that while they were allies at the moment, in the grander scheme of their lives, their families were at odds with each other. Most importantly, she had to remember that whatever she revealed in these moments together could very well be used against her in the future.
“Very well.” A rare smile touched his lips.
She froze, caught off guard by the blinding sight. “Why are you smiling? My suggestion couldn’t have been that amusing.”
The corner of his mouth inched upward further. “Am I smiling? It must be because I find you fascinating in this moment.”
Was this a tease from theduke? Surely not! Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk. “It’s as if you’re laughing at me.”
To think she had found him handsome in that livery. Urgh. Deny, deny, deny! From the very start, he was a vexing man. There was no way she would ever think of him as anything more than the Duke of Mortimer, enemy to her family.
She glared at him, and he chuckled before his face resumed his usual cold mask.
That was better.
Thatwas familiar.
*
Oliver traced theshelves of the library, his mind only partially occupied with hunting for the book they sought. The other part was occupied byher. No movement escaped him. No sigh. No grunt. No vexed stomp of her foot.
A touch of amusement struck him once more.
Oliver had never been a petty man, but standing in the duke’s library brought a sense of roguishness to his bones. The sense that he, Oliver Cavanagh, had a secret. A secret the Duke of Talbot didn’t know. Would never know. Would probably have several fainting spells over if he did know.
His sense of devilishness quickly disappeared. For it wasn’t the only secret he possessed. He also had a dark one. And it was far from amusing.
Best he focused on the book.
Hisintention.
However, it was becoming all the more apparent that they would not be finding the book here. He outwardly dragged a hand through his hair while inwardly tugging at it. Hard. He wanted—no,needed—to find that book fast.
