danger.
“Perhaps not, but he is never hesitant to put you at risk for his own cause. I do not wish to see you once again entangled.”
Edmond tossed an arm around his shoulders. “Do not worry, Stefan. Much to my surprise, Leonida is not only charming, but utterly lacking her mother’s ambition and her father’s Machiavellian plotting.”
“Hmm.” Stefan was not so easily convinced, but it was obvious Edmond was not prepared to heed his warnings. It would have to be Stefan’s duty to keep a careful watch on the unwelcomed guest. “Does she at least realize that she is intruding into the privacy of newly weds?”
A wicked humor twinkled in Edmond’s eyes. “You are surely familiar enough with me, Stefan, to know that when I desire to spend time alone with my exquisite wife I allow nothing and no one to stand in my way.”
“True enough,” Stefan was forced to concede. “I cannot recall how many dinners I have attended at Hillside only to find myself shown to the door before I could even finish my port.”
“Someday, my dear brother, you will understand.”
“I believe one Huntley blinded by the agonizing throes of love is quite enough.” His tone was flippant, disguising the dull ache of loneliness that had plagued him over the past year. That was a secret he intended to keep to himself. “Think of our reputation.”
“Should I think of my reputation as a frivolous rake or your reputation as a dull farmer who pays more heed to his cows than to society?” Edmond teased.
“Surely not dull?” Stefan protested. “I have always thought I possessed a small measure of wit.”
“A very large measure of wit. Unfortunately it is rarely on display outside Meadowland. I fear you may become as moldy as your books.”
Stefan pulled away from his brother’s arm, discomfited by the turn of the conversation. He would stab a dagger in his heart before he would allow Edmond to realize just how jealous he was of the happiness he had discovered.
No one deserved it more than Edmond.
“My books are not moldy, and neither am I.”
Edmond’s gaze was searching, perhaps sensing his brother’s unease. “It would not hurt you to practice your social skills.”
“Ah, I begin to understand your devious plot.” Stefan deliberately turned the conversation from himself. “You wish me to keep Miss Karkoff distracted so you can spend more time alone with your bride.”
“My only thought is for you, dearest Stefan.”
Laughing at his brother’s pious tone, Stefan abruptly realized they were no longer alone. A curious tingle inched down his spine as he turned to smile into Brianna’s astonishing green eyes, only grudgingly turning his attention to the woman at her side.
Without warning his breath was wrenched from his lungs as he encountered the clear blue gaze that shimmered with a guileless innocence.
Christ. It was no wonder Alexander Pavlovich had sent this female to do his bidding. Leonida Karkoff was every man’s fantasy. Sweet, untouched purity combined with a golden beauty that stirred a primitive need to sweep her off her feet. Who would not be dazzled by such a vision?
Even Stefan.
It was the sound of Brianna delicately clearing her throat that made Stefan realize he was staring like a damned fool, and with a silent curse at allowing himself to be distracted for even a moment by the dangerous siren, he determinedly returned his gaze to Lady Summerville.
“Good day, Stefan,” she murmured, her smile impish.
“Lovely Brianna.” With a deliberate motion, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. He enjoyed provoking his twin. “As always you brighten my day.”
On cue, Edmond shifted to place a possessive arm around his wife. They both knew that Stefan regarded Brianna as a beloved sister, but some reactions were too instinctive to be denied.
Perhaps that explained why he was so vividly aware of the innocent blue gaze still fixed to his profile, and the enticing scent of jasmine that filled the air.
Instinct.
Thankfully obtuse to Stefan’s uncharacteristic distraction, Edmond waved a slender hand toward his guest.
“Stefan, may I introduce you to Miss Karkoff? Leonida, my brother, the Duke of Huntley.”
With no choice, Stefan grimly ignored the peculiar race of his heart, and turned to watch Miss Karkoff perform an elegant curtsy.
“Your Grace.” Her voice was low, with only a trace of accent to mar her perfect English.
The dip of his head was just short of rude. He would not forget his suspicions.
Not even if Leonida Karkoff did possess the face of an angel.
“I hope you are enjoying your visit to Surrey?” Her smile was dazzling. Of course. Everything about her was dazzling.
“Very much, thank you. Lord and Lady Summerville have been most welcoming and I have discovered a great deal of beauty in the English countryside.”
“It must be a bit tedious in comparison to St. Petersburg. As I recall there is a constant variety of entertainments offered to young and beautiful women.”
She shrugged, drawing attention to the delicate line of her shoulders and the slender neck that was circled by a perfect strand of pearls.
“I prefer the peace,” she countered, a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as if able to sense his distrust. “And to be honest, I am pleased to be in the country where I can truly bask in your summer warmth.”
He curved his lips into a smile, taking her arm to firmly lead her down the paved pathway. Obviously he would have to take greater care if he were not to put her on guard.
“Like a cat?”
She stiffened, as if caught off guard by his touch, then with a smile that was as false as his own, she fell into step beside him.
“Yes, I suppose I do feel rather like a cat,” she said, lifting her face as if enthralled by the warm sunlight. “At home I rarely leave the house without being wrapped in at least a shawl.”
“What a pity to conceal such skin.” Against his will, Stefan’s gaze skimmed over her delicate features. God, but she was beautiful. “It shimmers with the beauty of alabaster in the sun.”
“I am confused, your Grace.”
“And why is that?”
She turned her head to stab him with a penetrating stare. “I understood that your brother was the practiced flirt while you preferred substance to charm.”
“I seem to be referred to as a stodgy bore with depressing frequency of late. I never realized I was so dull.”
“Substance is not dull.”
His
