Free Lord of Deceit (Heiress Games Book 2) by Sara Ramsey Page B

he needed to nurse it. He’d bought the whole bottle, and he had all night.
    Boredom would kill him before the whisky did.
    After three weeks holed up in the backwater village of Salcombe, Rafe’s nerves were fraying. He hadn’t been this idle in years. Decades. Spain had had its moments of boredom — all men on campaign grew bored, of the rations and discomfort if nothing else. But blood and gunpowder had outweighed all of that.
    His brother Gavin, the Duke of Thorington, sat across from him, scowling at his cards. Rafe tapped his fingers against the table. “Play.”
    Thorington tossed his cards down and pushed the pile of money between them toward Rafe. “I’m done for the night. Take the earnings and buy something better for your health than whisky. A late supper, perhaps?”
    “It’s a shame you were born to wear a duke’s coronet — you would have made an excellent governess,” Rafe said, exaggerating his pleasure in his next sip of whisky. “Or perhaps a vicar. You could join the church and leave the dukedom to me.”
    Thorington sighed. But he didn’t continue the lecture. He would lecture their siblings until their ears bled — which was his right, since he’d practically raised them and still paid their way. But Thorington and Rafe were close. Close in age and close in spirit, even after Rafe’s years at war.
    Which was why it rankled that Thorington hadn’t taken him into his confidence. There was only one reason why Thorington would have brought them to Salcombe. And even though it was obvious why they were there, Thorington still kept it a secret — as though they were all so dimwitted that he could trick them easily. Or as though he knew he was about to make a mistake, and he didn’t want anyone to talk him out of it.
    If Thorington hadn’t inadvertently brought Rafe to exactly the place where Rafe needed to be, Rafe would have left weeks ago.
    He reached over and tipped whisky into Thorington’s glass. “If you don’t want to play cards, care to finally tell me what we’re doing here?”
    Thorington picked up his whisky and tossed it back in one go. “No.”
    Rafe refilled his glass. “And now?”
    “Leave it, Rafe. I already told you we shall have a family meeting in the morning — isn’t that soon enough?”
    Rafe shrugged. “Depends on what foolish errand you’ve embarked upon.”
    Rafe had already guessed the foolish errand. At least, he hoped he’d guessed. Otherwise, he’d wasted three weeks in Devonshire looking for Octavia Briarley, in addition to the four he’d lost in London after she had disappeared.
    Thorington had peremptorily told his siblings that they were going to Devonshire for the summer instead of their usual trip to the family’s country seat. Rafe should have stayed in London. He had work to do there, even in the slow days of August when most people were out of town.
    But Devonshire was where Maidenstone Abbey was. Maidenstone Abbey was where the Briarley house party would be held, which would determine which lady would inherit. Surely Octavia would turn up there.
    She had to turn up there. It was the only chance he had to find her.
    She’d gone completely to ground after Somerville had turned her out. Rafe had called on her house two days after seeing her at Somerville House, as agreed, and found men removing the rented furnishings. No one had been able to provide a forwarding address. She hadn’t left cards with any of her acquaintances telling them that she was leaving town. Somerville’s staff was tight-lipped. Octavia had, in effect, completely disappeared.
    He was more annoyed about this than he should have been. He told himself that it was because she was surely angry at Somerville — he could pry all the man’s secrets out of her if he found her in the right mood.
    But it was more than that. After their conversation, he’d thought of her more than he should have. More than he usually allowed himself to think of anyone involved in one of his