“Oh? Then why am I always catching you dilly-dallying with the servants? If you were clever, you would do it far away from me.”
“That doesn’t prove anything!”
“No? Then why are your cheeks so red?” Louisa asked. “Are you feeling guilty about something?”
“I am not!”
“And I don’t believe you.” She lowered her hands to settle them on her hips. “Which means you weren’t far away when Theodosia called on me that day and also handed over a certain book into my care, were you?”
His cheeks flushed, but he remained silent. Louisa knew her brother well enough to recognize that when he dug in his heels, nothing but a miracle would move him unless he wanted to move. It rarely happened, but when it did, it was quite a sight.
But this was no ordinary matter.
It was an extremely important one.
“James Leonard Talbot!” Louisa exclaimed when her brother moved to dart away again. “Where do you think you are going?”
The duke was faster and grabbed her brother by the scruff of his collar and pulled him back. He straightened to his full height. “Perhaps we should take the matter inside.”
Louisa nodded, glancing at the overhanging branches. While this spot served well for a bit of a retreat, it was apparently no secret, and anyone close enough could overhear their conversation. Though—she glanced at the duke—they would have to get past his masterful skill of observation first.
Did he have to look so irresistible and striking standing there, tall, commanding, and undeniably impressive?
Lord, Louisa.
She must be going crazy. Why else would she be so attuned to this man? A man her father would never approve of. A manshedidn’t approve of. A man who didn’t approve of her.
Best they found that book and parted ways as soon as possible.
*
Oliver studied theboy intently, his gaze following the faintest flicker of emotion. They were back in the library, and none of them had yet exchanged a single word. That look—the one now on Leo’s face—was all too familiar. He had worn that very expression countless times in his own youth when faced with questionshewould rather not answer. He knew well that little could persuade the boy to loosen his tongue.
Nothing had ever persuaded him.
But this boy was not him—he had a weakness. Oliver glanced at Louisa. The young heir had a spirited sister, a dynamic presence he had never known as a boy. If he had, perhaps the same nervous look now appearing in the boy’s eyes might have mirrored his own.
“You won’t be in trouble if you tell us,” Oliver said calmly.
The boy’s eyes shifted to him before he crossed his arms over his chest. “And who areyouto promise that?”
In other words,you are nothing but a mere servant unable to promise anything. Oliver nearly smiled. That the boy hadn’t called him a mere servant to his face was quite something. Other lads would have been quicker to remind him of his place. It was clear that Lady Louisa’s influence had already left its mark.
The lady in question snorted, pursing her lips to hold back a smile, no doubt. “He has a point.”
“What if I am no mere servant?” Oliver asked the lad.
The boy glanced at Lady Louisa before looking back at him. “You look like a servant and you dress like a servant. Therefore, you are a servant.”
Lady Louisa chuckled. “Well said, brother.”
“Did you not call me an imposter earlier?” Oliver asked him.
“That was then, this is now.”
Amusement filled him. Even his own right-hand man had remarked that he could dress like a servant but would never deceive anyone into thinking he was one. Apparently, ducal arrogance couldn’t be concealed by livery or even potato sacks. His attention turned back to Leo.
“So then, I am correct in saying that you, little lord, perceive me as a servant?”
