“My pleasure.” He rounded the lounge to sit beside her. “Don’t worry yourself too greatly over the journals.”
If only that were the whole of her problems. She sipped her drink. “Someone needs to read them. Who knows what might be found.”
Tobias leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “My father once said that the old duke preferred all eyes on him. It is not right for a beautiful woman to spend all of her time pondering the goings on of a man long dead and unlamented. He shouldn’t have that much importance, and surely not for you.”
Blythe frowned. “Why not for me?”
“Well, as you’ve mentioned before, you are not a Randall. This is our burden, our problem, not yours. What do you normally do with your time, B?”
Blythe swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. What did she do with her life? She visited with Mercy and Edwin until she felt she had to go home. But when she was home she didn’t feel comfortable there. It was unsettling to be a guest in the house you lived in, but that was where all her memories of her son came from. The house could never be hers. It was entailed and, as her stepson liked to remind her, he could take possession of it any time he chose.
“What were you thinking of just then, B? I swear the expression in your eyes could break a heart.”
Blythe sipped a mouthful of her drink before answering. “It’s nothing.”
“The letter?”
“Is none of your concern, either, sir.”
“Well, you should talk to someone about these nothings one of these days. Problems are easier to bear when shared, and all that.”
Since when did she need advice from a man? She sat up straighter. “Which is why I am helping with these journals.”
Tobias Randall chuckled softly. “Clever, clever girl. You never actually answered me. Keep your secrets, my lady, and I’ll hope they’ll come to naught, whatever they are.”
Had Tobias Randall been replaced by an imposter? He was actually being nice! There had to be some game afoot. She studied him. “What do you want?”
His lips pursed, and then a wicked grin twisted his lips as his gaze dipped down to her bodice and slid back up again. “Judging from your mode of dress, I don’t think you’ll let me have it so I’ll take a smile in place.” He winked.
Blythe sucked in a shocked breath. The pirate was still there, beneath the properly tied cravat and neatly trimmed hair, and determined to make her uncomfortable. She’d been foolish to believe otherwise for even a moment.
A sharp rap on the door interrupted and they both turned toward the sound. Unfortunately, that put her face within inches of Tobias Randall’s. She leaned away quickly as a hot flush stole over her cheeks as she listened to the butler.
“Lord Archibald and Miss Emma Trimble, Your Grace.”
Emma had come. Oh, dear heavens. She met Tobias’ gaze. “Please behave as a gentleman. Emma is a dear friend of mine and I would not like to have her made uncomfortable by your forward behavior.”
She clenched her hands together, hoping that for once Mr. Randall might be agreeable and not make a fuss about doing so. He was very fond of arguing over trivial matters with his brother. Good manners were essential around her friends.
His brow rose. “A very good friend, eh? Well, this could be interesting. I should like to know who is deemed worthy of your praise.”
He stood and moved away to another chair. Blythe let out a relieved breath. Maybe he would not cause an uncomfortable scene.
“Do show them in, Wilcox,” Mercy said, “and arrange for tea please.”
The butler tipped his head. “Very good, Your Grace.”
Wilcox disappeared from sight for a moment then returned to show Emma and her cousin, Lord Archibald, into the drawing room. Both spoke warmly to Mercy, and were introduced to Leopold and Tobias Randall.
When Lord Archibald appeared ready to engage Mercy and the men in exclusive conversation, Emma caught both her hands and squeezed. “My dear, how are you?”
“I am very well, Emma. And you?”
“Oh, I am always well,” she whispered. “But I would like to speak with you in private as soon as possible if I could. It is a very urgent matter.”
Had Lord Archibald finally proposed to Emma? She dearly hoped so. “Of course you may.” Blythe caught Mercy’s eye and tilted her head to show they were going to ease away to speak privately. Mercy wouldn’t mind. Blythe would relay the conversation later if it was truly important.
When Mercy inclined her head, Blythe caught Emma’s arm and they strolled toward the windows where their voices wouldn’t carry too easily. “What is the urgent matter?”