Page 40 of His Auctioned Duchess
Then–
A sound shattered the stillness: footsteps echoing in the corridor outside.
Richard stiffened. The softness vanished from his expression. In an instant, the soldier replaced the man.
He stood, closing the piano with a decisive snap. “We’re not alone.”
Caroline blinked, still caught halfway between dream and waking. “What?”
He crossed the room in two strides and reached the door just as a faint clink of metal rang on stone. His eyes narrowed.
Someone was there—had been there.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but his tone was stern. He stepped into the corridor, scanning the shadows. The lamplight from the tower spilled only a few feet into the darkness. Nothingmoved, yet the air seemed to hum with the echo of retreating presence.
Then, something glinted faintly on the floor.
Richard crouched, fingers closing around it. When he straightened, the light caught the object—a single gold button, engraved with an intricate crest.
He turned it over once, eyes hardening. “This is not mine.”
Caroline hovered near the doorway, clutching her shawl. “Perhaps one of the servants–”
“No.” His tone was flat. “No servant in this house wears gold.”
He slipped the button into his pocket. Whatever emotion flickered behind his eyes was gone before she could read it.
“Come,” he said quietly. “You should return to your rooms.”
“But–”
“Now.”
The word left no room for disobedience.
He led her down the stairs, his stride measured, protective. Every now and then his hand hovered at her back, not quite touching but close enough to make her acutely aware of him.
She tried to speak, to joke, to dissolve the tension—anything—but his silence was unyielding.
At last, when they reached the landing outside her chamber, she said softly, “You needn’t glower so. It spoils the noble image you worked so hard to restore.”
He looked down at her, the faintest curve tugging his mouth. “Go to bed, Caroline.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The ghost of that smile lingered even as he turned away.
When her door shut, he drew the button from his pocket, the engraved crest catching the flicker of candlelight—a serpent coiled around a sword.
His jaw tightened.
Whoever had been listening in the dark had not come by accident.
CHAPTER 12
