Read Online The Duke of Olympia Meets His Match by Juliana Gray - Free Book Online

blood—but he bolted now, around the newel post and down the corridor like a Derby winner swinging past the final post. A rectangle of daylight beckoned ahead, beaming from the open door of an outside stateroom, exactly where Mrs. Schuyler’s cabin should lie.
    A peculiar rage overtook him in that instant, a white fury he hadn’t felt in ages: the protective passion of a much younger man. He pounded down the final yards to the open stateroom and swung under the doorway, curling his right hand into a preparatory fist, only just remembering to duck his head, and the words
Mrs. Schuyler! Who’s there?
shot from his throat, just exactly as if he had some right to pronounce them.
    But only one figure stood in the room, bent over the steamer trunk at the end of one of the beds. She leapt up at once and swiveled around to meet him, and the look on her face could only be described as accusatory.
    â€œ
Someone
,” she said, stabbing her finger at his chest, leaving the identity of this mysterious
someone
in no doubt, at least in her mind, “has been searching
my
room.”
    ***
    He wasn’t shocked; she saw that at once. As soon as the words
searching my room
left Penelope’s mouth, the wild light in the Duke of Olympia’s blue eyes dimmed—or perhaps
intensified
was a better word—yes, that was it—
intensified
into something keener. He cast an experienced gaze around the stateroom, taking in the two brass beds, neatly made; the stately mahogany washstand, set with Pears soap on one side and two toothbrushes in a fixed jar on the other, protected from spillage by a railing around the rim; the dresser, quite bare; the two trunks set at the bottoms of the beds. The sunlight flashed on his hair, turning it white. He altogether filled the room. He was so tall, he nearly brushed the deck above.
    For an instant, she allowed herself to admire him.
    His gaze fell back to meet hers, blue and inscrutable, faintly curious. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Schuyler,” he said, “but may I inquire
why
, exactly, you believe the room has been searched?”
    She pointed to one of the beds. “I am
not
in the habit of arranging the bedclothes in such a
slovenly
manner.”
    He followed her finger. “No, of course not.”
    â€œAnd my trunk. It has clearly been disturbed. Do you not see how it has moved at least three inches from the center position? And there is a corner of . . . of
clothing
escaping from the lid.” The clothing was, in fact, of the strictly unmentionable variety, a fact that Olympia’s eyebrows seemed to comprehend instantly.
    â€œIndeed,” he said. “Has anything been taken?”
    â€œI was about to make an inventory.”
    â€œHmm. And are you certain the perpetrator wasn’t simply Miss Morrison, hunting about for a hair ribbon? I note that her belongings appear—correct me if I am mistaken, Mrs. Schuyler—quite undisturbed.”
    â€œHow observant you are.”
    â€œAttention to detail, Mrs. Schuyler, is one of the guiding principles of my life.” He paused. “We seem to be of kindred spirit in this regard, if you will allow me the liberty of observing it.”
    â€œI don’t think I can stop you,” she said crossly.
    He made a short bow, a mere inclination of the head. “Then if you are quite
intact
, Mrs. Schuyler”—there was just the slightest hint of innuendo on the word
intact
, making her belly go all inconveniently warm—“I will leave you to make your inventory while I inform the necessary authorities of this intrusion.”
    â€œThere’s no need. I’ve already rung the bell.”
    â€œNevertheless. I feel quite certain that Mr. Simmons, in particular, would wish to hear about the matter at the very earliest instant. May I be of service to you in any other way? A glass of water, perhaps?” His hand was already reaching for the door