Page 116 of The Big Bad Duke

“Like a mistress?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly. “Something like that.”

A mistress. The word tasted bitter in her mouth. She would be trading one form of captivity for another, albeit a more pleasant one. The thought deflated her, even as part of her wanted to say yes immediately.

She let out a weary sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. “And that’s the only way I am escaping the Cardinal?”

He cleared his throat, and she caught something in his posture that might have been regret. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Then yes.”

“What if you escaped the Cardinal with no conditions and no obligations…” His voice grew more intense, more urgent. “You are free to go wherever you like and do whatever you please. And then I offer you the chance to stay with me. Would you agree?”

She studied his face in the dim light, searching for clues to his meaning. His expression was carefully neutral and impassive, but something—she couldn’t identify what—seeped into his eyes. Emotion? Longing? Hope?

What was he thinking? Did he want to keep her as his mistress? And then what? Would he marry another woman to beget heirs, leaving her forever on the sidelines? A plaything?

The thought made her stomach clench with what felt suspiciously like jealousy. I will not be anyone’s plaything anymore. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.

She relaxed her shoulders, forcing casualness into her posture, and made what she knew could either be the perfect jest or the most horrifying suggestion of his life. “Only if you offer to marry me.”

He blinked in surprise, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t stagger back, flinch, or laugh at the absurdity of the idea. Though she knew he was not a man prone to showing his emotions easily, she feared she might have horrified him beyond measure.

She was an assassin and a harlot by most people’s standards. He was a duke.

She was Muslim. He was… whatever he needed to be to maintain his title and standing.

By English law, he couldn’t marry her even if he wanted to. Their union would not be considered legitimate.

So she could dream of him asking her to marry him all she wanted, could imagine a life where they were equals, where she was more than just a convenient body in his bed. Even if he had no personal reservations about her background and past, England surely did.

She straightened her spine, donned the cloak Grace had provided, and faced him once more with as much dignity as she could muster. “Ready?”

* * *

They made their way back to Grace’s office, with Gideon lost in deep thought. In the past week, he had questioned his sanity more times than he could count.

One thing was obvious: he was in love with Leila, whether he wanted to be or not. Now she had thrown him a challenge, daring him to propose.

There was nothing keeping him in England except for broken memories. It wasn’t his life he was worried about.

He could make her happy without marrying her. He could set her free, and then it would be her choice what to do with that freedom.

Leila opened the secret door and walked into Grace’s chamber, with Gideon following closely behind.

“I was expecting you to show up,” Ford Gunning said, emerging from the shadows like some kind of devil. Leila stepped back, almost treading on Gideon’s toes.

Gideon grabbed her by the arm and held her close. “I was under the impression you were willing to help. Was I wrong?” he asked.

“No, you weren’t,” Gunning replied with a slight nod. “What do you need?”

“That was easy,” Gideon said. “I just need you to send a few notes. I don’t want to involve you more than I already have. Your wife was kind enough to procure some clothes for us, but now I need a few more things, and I have friends who can arrange that. As a thief-taker, I assume you have an underground network of discreet messenger boys to deliver the notes?”

“Of course. Who do you need the notes sent to?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I need some documents collected from my house, and I need a man I can trust to do that…” He paused, sifting through the names of people he knew and eliminating those he didn’t trust. Only one name remained in his mind. “An old friend from my time serving the Crown,” he said.

What about the second note?