He nodded his head, and her heart pinched to see the worry on his face.
“I’ll be careful, and I promise I will come back with Thomas. Please trust in me.”
“I do trust you, Verity.”
“Good. Now wait for me.”
With a soft grunt, she tossed her foot over the window, bent her back low and slithered inside. The room was dark, and she knocked her elbow onto something hard. Pain shot up her arm, but she bit her lip to stem the cry of agony. The silence outside permeated the mansion. The house was unfamiliar, and it would be a challenge to locate that room with the sole light. If it was impossible to find, she would stealthily check every room in the house. Verity had craftily procured the apparel of a maid, a black bombazine dress with a white apron, and a white cap covering her curls. Maids often crept around their masters’ homes, ensuring windows were closed, the fireplace lit, and the house comfortable. Should anyone discover her, Verity hoped they thought that she went about her duties. Should it be the duke who discovered her, the aim was to keep her head lowered, mumble some nonsense, and make her escape.
It took a long time for her to navigate from the room in the dark. Thankfully once she was into the hallway, a few sconces on the walls provided a measure of light. Verity carefully made her way down the hallway, keenly listening to the noises of the house and those she made herself.
The silence itself felt intimidating, but should anyone stir, surely she would hear it. Knowing if she made any mistake, it would resound in the quietude, Verity crept up the winding staircase, thinking on the positioning of the house, the floor the duke had stood on, and tried to determine where Thomas might be. Over an hour passed with her testing cold knobs that opened without a squeak under her palm. More than seven rooms on the second floor, including a library and a music room, were cold and empty. Hurrying down the hallway, her steps faltered by a wall sconce. The door beside it shone no light beneath it, but surely it meant something that the only wall sconce in the long hallway was here.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. It slid noiselessly ajar, and she almost cried out to see a large crib by a low burning fire. There was no nursemaid in the room or any other servant. She shut the door behind her with a small snick, and a few cautious steps took her closer to the crib. Peering down, relief assailed her. She had found Thomas. Verity reached into the crib when a feeling of being watched trembled over her body.
Her belly knotted, and the breath inside her chest stilled. Surely she was mistaken. The thump of a cane sounded, and she almost fainted. Oh God! Verity straightened from the crib and slowly turned around.
“I wonder, can you truly bear the consequences?” the duke's low voice said from somewhere in the large room. “It is not every day a tempting morsel hands herself over into my care.”
His wicked, dissolute emphasis on care sent a cascade of fright over her body. Her frantic gaze skipped around the nursery.
Where was he?
The door remained shut. That meant the duke had been in this room all along, and she had not sensed his presence. She allowed her gaze to sweep the darkened corners of the room, wondering where the devil lurked. It sank into her bones that she had been discovered, stealing into his home.
“I have a dagger,” she said huskily. “I am not at all afraid to use it.”
“Ah, you mean to skewer me with it in a bid to escape?”
The dark humor in his tone rattled her, and she lifted her chin. “If I must.”
“I believe I just might keep you for a few days. You are interesting,” he drawled in a lazy tone.
A low, incredulous laugh slipped from her before she quickly caught it. “Keep me?”
“Yes.”
“I do not perceive your meaning, Your Grace.”
“I’ll keep you to do whatever I will. I’ve always liked daring.”
She stared hard into the shadows. The duke of every sin they said. She paused for a moment to draw a few steadying breaths, then Verity allowed her mouth to curve as if she were amused by him. “Are you promising kidnapping and debauchery? How…dissipated and quite unoriginal, Your Grace. You do not disappoint your reputation. Pity. It would be so much more intriguing if I were provoked with the unexpected.”
A soft laugh answered her. Odd that earlier, she’d had the thought that he did not seem to be a man who laughed with any measure of frequency.
“Your tongue is bold and cutting.”
“When it needs to be, Your Grace,” Verity said, hating that her tone trembled.
He made no reply, but she could feel the force of his contemplation and his eyes as they skipped over her body. Each unseen lingering of those green eyes felt like a caress of ice. Though she was tempted to fill the space with nervous chatter, Verity remained silent and swallowed down the chaotic mix of emotions tangling inside her heart—loss, fear, anger.