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foyer that offered a view of the impressive staircase and down a wainscot-paneled hallway to the library.
    Opening the door with a bow, the butler disappeared into the bowels of the house, leaving Leonida alone to enter the vast room.
    She breathed a sigh of pleasure at the towering shelves soaring two floors toward a ceiling painted with a stunning panorama of the local landscape. Along one wall was a bank of towering windows that overlooked a pretty deer park filled with trees and wildflowers. And at the end was a massive marble fireplace with two wing chairs and a narrow pier table situated before it.
    Eventually, her gaze shifted to the heavy walnut desk and matching chair near the windows.
    She briefly wavered. Did she dare try to sneak up and search for the Duchess’s private rooms, or did she begin here?
    In the end cowardice won the day. The mere thought of trying to slip past an army of servants to intrude into a dead woman’s privacy made her stomach twist with dread.
    Besides, it was entirely possible that the Duchess of Huntley used this beautiful room to write her correspondence.
    Her decision made, she crossed to the desk and, bending down, she jerked open one of the upper drawers. She grimaced at the sight of the deep pile of papers, realizing this might take more time than she had first assumed.
    Dividing her attention between the papers and the door leading to the hallway, she reached the last drawer when the unmistakable sound of footsteps had her slamming it shut and racing toward the nearest shelf, her heart in her throat.
    She was blindly studying the leather-bound books when someone entered the room. With a pretense of indifference, she glanced to the side, fully expecting the grim butler to request she take her leave. Instead it was the Duke who stepped over the threshold, his expression hard as he studied her with an unnerving intensity.
    Leonida froze. Good lord, he was beautiful. Disturbingly beautiful with his dark, perfectly chiseled features and his muscular body shown to advantage in his blue coat and buckskins.
    At the moment his raven curls were tumbled from the wind and his cravat loosened to reveal the strong column of his throat, a testament to his hours in the fields, but his casual appearance only added to his potent attraction.
    But it was the relentless intelligence in his dark blue eyes that sent a chill down her spine.
    This man was no fool and she sensed he already had suspicions of her arrival in Surrey.
    Dangerous.
    The silence lasted for several painful heartbeats, then with a smile that did not meet his eyes, he was smoothly moving forward to take her hand and lift it to his lips.
    “Miss Karkoff,” he murmured. “My butler informed me I would find you here.”
    She tugged her hand from his grasp, unsettled by the tingles of pleasure that raced up her arm.
    “I…” She halted to clear the husky fear from her voice. “I did not expect you.”
    He arched a brow. “No?”
    “Lady Summerville mentioned you spent most afternoons in your fields.”
    Something flashed through his eyes. Curiosity? Suspicion? “As a rule, although I do occasionally spend time with my accounts.”
    So much for trusting in luck. She would not make that mistake again.
    “I hope you do not mind my intrusion, your Grace?”
    “Of course not.” He casually leaned a shoulder against the sturdy shelf, his powerful presence filling the room as his gaze slid blatantly over her sprigged muslin gown with tiny satin roses sewn along the scooped bodice. At last he returned his attention to the blush staining her cheeks. “I did invite you to make use of the library. Have you not discovered anything of interest?”
    She managed a meaningless smile. She had not spent years among the treacherous Russian society without developing some skill in dissembling.
    “I was indulging in my love for browsing. Your collection is quite magnificent.”
    “In all fairness I must confess that I inherited a large portion