“You are not.”
A chuckle. “Have you ever heard ofdenying?”
“Should I have?” Oliver asked. “Why should I deny the truth when it has already been caught?”
“The truth can be caught?” She tucked a curl behind her ear, smiling. “What a clever way to put it. In any event, it certainly will not put you in a favorable light amongst the ladies.”
Oliver nodded at that, somewhat amused. “I suppose it won’t.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and before he knew it, he was leaning very close—drawn by an impossible pull, as if some invisible force was guiding him closer. Yet she didn’t flinch, didn’t avert her gaze. She simply stared at him, unblinking and unmoving.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
“I don’t know,” Oliver offered truthfully.
“Do you intend to steal a kiss?”
Did he? Someone else seemed to have taken over both his body and mind. “It wouldn’t be stealing anymore if I did, now would it?”
“Since I caught the truth of your intention?”
“Correct.” He straightened, suppressing the urge to succumb to a temptation he had no desire to entertain. If he did steal a kiss—or simply kiss her—it would not be out of noble sentiment. Rather, it would be to vent his frustration that the book had once again eluded him. “The book isn’t here.”
She let out a sigh he couldn’t interpret, leaning back against the windowsill. “Don’t say that. We haven’t searched the whole library yet. There is still that section,” she pointed to a row of shelves. “And that section.”
“We won’t find the book in either of those sections.” He was sure of it.
“How do you know if we don’t look?”
“My gut.”
“And that is something you can trust more than your eyes?”
Indeed it was. “If it’s going to bother you endlessly, look if you must, but I’m telling you, the book isn’t there.”
“Where else would the book be? Itmust be in the library.”
Where else, indeed. He watched her proceed over to the books, the defiant set in her shoulders almost making him smile. Lady Louisa was determined to prove him wrong. He welcomed her to try.
The question, however, should be raised—could the duchess already have the book in her possession? That would not be good for him. Should he tell Lady Louisa about her stepmother? She appeared unaware of the duchess’s involvement, or was she actually all too aware, he wondered.
Devil take it. He hated this doubt. This uncertainty.
But he also trusted his instincts, and they told him the book wasn’t here, and that Lady Louisa didn’t know about its connection to her stepmother. But that brought on even more questions. Would she help him if he told her? Would she be surprised? Outraged? Would she worry about her brother?Would she question her father’s involvement? Would any good come of knowing the truth?
His gaze caught on a small head peeking into the doorway. Oliver cocked his head to the side, studying the boy, who stared at his sister before turning to him, visibly starting when their eyes met.
Ah.
A key element fell into place.
This was why they couldn’t find the book.
Little Leo Talbot.
Not only was Oliver now certain that the boy knew about the book, his whole face told Oliver that this young master was enjoying watching them search for the very object he’d had a hand in hiding.
“Lady Louisa.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you find something?”
