“He would find me. And when he did he would make me howl for death.” The stranger shook his head, his thatch of greasy brown hair swinging around his face. “No, I will not fail him.”
“But…”
“Enough,” he rasped, turning the knife so the tip was pressed beneath her chin. “Return to the house and find those letters for me.”
“Fine,” she breathed, accepting that for the moment she had no choice but to give in to his demands. He was clearly as demented as he was violent. Not a particularly reassuring combination. “I will return to the house.”
His eyes narrowed. “And Miss Karkoff.”
“What?”
“Do not even think of confessing to the Duke,” he warned in lethal tones. “Not unless you wish him to be found floating in his lake.”
“You would not dare.”
His lips twisted. “Few things would give me more pleasure than choking the life from a spineless English nobleman. What is he without his fortune and servants?” He turned to spit on the floor. “A weak, pathetic waste of flesh who deserves to die. Keep that in mind.”
Leonida shivered. Stefan murdered by this filthy bastard? His dark, powerful beauty forever extinguished?
No.
It did not matter what she had to do.
She would never allow Stefan to be harmed.
DRIVEN TO DESPERATION, Leonida raced back to the house and tracked down Sophy, who was flirting with a handsome young footman in the kitchens.
Dragging the startled maid up the stairs, she hastily revealed her confrontation in the garden with the Russian henchman and the necessity of completing her task with all possible speed.
Which meant the time for discretion was at an end.
Leading Sophy directly to the Duchess’s chambers rather than requesting her to keep guard, Leonida commanded the maid to search for a hidden safe or any papers that might have been stuffed out of sight. She could only trust to her dubious luck that the army of servants was busy in another part of the house.
Astonishingly, her luck did hold.
At least as far as the servants were concerned.
Unfortunately, she was decidedly out of luck when it came to finding the letters.
After four hours’ futile searching, Sophy heaved a sigh and glanced about the Duchess’s bedchamber with the same frustration that smoldered deep within Leonida. “I still say you should just let me get my pistol and shoot the odious jackass who threatened you,” she muttered.
On her knees beside the rosewood writing table where she had been searching for a secret drawer, Leonida brushed a stray curl off her cheek. “If I knew where to find him, I would shoot him myself.”
“What if we can’t…”
“We must, Sophy,” Leonida interrupted sternly. “Keep looking.”
“Where?” Sophy waved her hands in a helpless motion. “We have searched the chambers from end to end.”
Leonida grimaced. The maid had a point. It was difficult to imagine they could have overlooked even the most cleverly hidden safe.
“They must be here,” she said, as much to reassure herself as the maid. She had no choice but to find the damned letters. With a shake of her head, she regarded her maid with a frown. “Where do you keep your valuables?”
Sophy shrugged, her round face flushed with weariness. “I don’t have many, but I do hide my few coins and best stockings beneath my bed.”
Leonida sighed. She’d already checked beneath the bed, a dozen times. And beyond discovering a few stray spider-webs on the expensive carpet…
Suddenly, Leonida stiffened, her eyes wide with a startling thought.