The Earl's Complete Surrender by Sophie Barnes

activate the spring.
    The door swung back without complaint and James stepped swiftly through it to find himself in a small nook a little to the right of the upstairs landing. Closing the door behind him, he moved forward and listened, but was only met by the unified ticking of clocks rising from below. Damn!
    Starting back toward his own room, he wondered if he ought to give up on the earl’s bedchamber for now and look elsewhere. But what if the man in the passageway managed to gain access and find the journal there before James did? He couldn’t allow such a thing to happen. No. Somehow he had to get a better look at the escritoire and the other furniture as well.
    Rounding a corner, he caught a flash of movement and turned toward it, instinctively ducking his head as he did so. But the dark shadow retreated, hurrying away from him and James gave chase, catching up to it in a few long strides. Reaching out, his hand latched onto a shoulder and held fast, forcing the shadow sideways until it slammed against the wall. A loud succession of pants followed and James lifted his lantern to illuminate the shadow’s face. “Scarsdale?” The earl’s eyes squinted against the yellow light. “What the devil are you doing sneaking about like this?”
    â€œI could ask the same of you,” Scarsdale muttered.
    James released his hold on Scarsdale but stayed close enough to catch him again in case he tried to run off. “Why were you trying to access the Earl of Duncaster’s bedchamber?”
    Scarsdale stared back at him, his initial look of surprise replaced by one of fury. “What the hell are you talking about, Woodford?”
    â€œI saw you in the secret passageway,” James told him, unwilling to relent. The body-­type fit. It had to have been him.
    â€œI don’t know anything about any secret passageways. And even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to explore them.”
    James leaned closer. “Are you sure about that?”
    â€œPerfectly,” Scarsdale gritted out.
    â€œThen why did you run when you saw me? What are you up to?”
    â€œNot that it’s any of your business, but I was hoping to pay a visit to a particular lady.”
    James’s stomach tightened like the string of a bow. “Not Lady Newbury, I hope?”
    A malevolent smile touched Scarsdale’s face. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I really can’t say.”
    James’s hand shot out, grabbing Scarsdale by the lapels. “Stay away from her,” he warned, his voice low and measured, but his tone as sharp as the edge of a blade.
    â€œWhy? What’s it to you?”
    Unwilling to reveal the extent of his new relationship with Lady Newbury for fear that it might end up hurting her, Woodford released Scarsdale and took a step back. “Nothing, other than that I have the greatest respect for her and would hate to see her become the center of scandal. So if it is her, do have a care. Be discreet.” With rigid muscles, James moved away. He had no actual proof that Scarsdale was the man he’d seen in the passageway and without proof he had nothing with which to condemn him. Gut instinct just wasn’t enough, least of all where a peer was concerned.
    By the time he reached his bedchamber and flung the door open, his anger had risen rather than subsided. With his jaw set, he tossed off his boots and crossed to the sideboard where he poured himself a large measure of brandy. The drink did little to ease the tension within or the pressure pushing against his skull. Another drink, and he was no better off, the worst part being that the rage inside him wasn’t so much related to the possibility of Scarsdale being an Elector who’d just slipped through his fingers, as it was to the prospect of Scarsdale potentially being Lady Newbury’s lover.
    It wasn’t likely—­not when he considered her. But the doubt that Scarsdale had just instilled