Avery shook off the whisper of interest that flicked in his brain. Remember your place, my lad, and do not be taken in by a pretty face. “The name means nothing to me, miss. What are you doing in these bedchambers?” He kept his countenance grim. It was no wonder the men had struggled so with the bureau. She must have been hidden away inside it.

Her conspiratorial smile struck him dumb. “It’s going to sound weird, but I’ll tell you.” She gripped his arm and leaned against him to whisper in his ear, “I traveled through time to find my true love, and I’m pretty sure, Your Grace, that it’s got to be you.”

The ease with which the overly familiar gesture came was no less startling than the intimate press of her body on his. He stepped backward as if burned, staring at her in shock.

A devil with an angel’s face is sent to torment me.

* * *

Leah’s heart fluttered with excitement. He was absolutely perfect—everything a duke should be. Well, except for the silvery scars on his knuckles and slight crookedness of his nose. And maybe the height. Shouldn’t dukes clear six feet? He couldn’t be more than an extremely well-muscled five foot ten. And his outfit was plainer than she’d imagined for such a high-ranking aristocrat. But his broad shoulders and slim hips more than made up for any height deficiency. At five foot seven herself, anything taller than her was tall enough.

She’d made a big faux pas right off the bat, though. Drawing in a shaky breath, Leah smiled apologetically. She hoped that slack-jawed look on his face was more intrigued interest than shocked disgust. Tough call. “Sorry, I was just excited. I mean, look at this place. Look at you. I can’t believe I’m actually here!”

His silence didn’t inspire much confidence. He stood there, scowling at her like Mr. Darcy in a room full of commoners. She had to play it cool. Drying her suddenly damp palms on her skirt, she breathed deeply. “Let me explain. Mrs. Knightsbridge—she’s Micah, er, the Earl of Dunnington’s housekeeper—well, she’s got some pretty incredible talents. I asked her for help with my grandfather, but she sent me here instead. She said my true love was in this house, and she sent me here to meet you. Oh.” Cheeks burning, she suddenly remembered the rank of the man standing there. You couldn’t just run up to a freaking duke and make best friends. She sank into a low curtsy and whispered, “Your Grace.”

A firm grip surrounded her arm, flooding her with warmth. Gosh, he was strong. He pulled her upright, but the seriousness in his eyes stopped her smile in its tracks. “Miss, you are mistaken. I am not your true love.” His deep, raspy voice sent a tingle down her spine as he let go of her arm.

Her brain paused in mid-whirl. This was a stranger. A complete and utter stranger, and she’d just popped through the mirror and into his arms like she belonged there. No wonder he was treating her like she was crazy. If she was when she thought she was, this was a huge breach of etiquette. But she couldn’t quite dismiss the idea that she had the right guy. She shivered. Lord, if he was this gorgeous while he was pissed, how incredible would he look when he was happy and laughing?

“Listen, Your Grace, I’m really sorry. I know this is strange and sudden and completely crazy. Just give me a chance, okay?” And then she winked at him in a bold attempt to lighten the mood.

Instead of the delighted laugh she’d been hoping for, she got a cold stare in return. “Miss, I am not in a position to give you anything. I am Avery Russell, the Duke of Granville’s valet. And you are trespassing.”

The same strong hands that had caught her before she could fall to the ground pointed her toward the door.

“Wait,” she cried, grabbing at his arm. “I’m telling the truth!”

“A liar and a Bedlamite,” he growled as he pried her fingers from his. “You hid inside that bureau and crept out like a thief. I’ll listen to no more of this.”

“Please,” she begged, searching his still-grim features for some sign of compassion. “You’ve got to believe me.”

“Why?” He scowled down at her like he was a priest and she’d just spat in the communion wine.

Why? She stopped struggling. In an instant, the fight leaked out of her, leaving her muscles weak and useless. This had been the worst idea she’d ever had, and for Leah, that was saying something. She’d thought that the musical version of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes she’d staged would hold that trophy for the rest of her life.

“I…I don’t know.” Leah looked at the carpet beneath her feet. “You don’t have any reason to believe me.” She swallowed hard, trying her damnedest to get the lump in her throat out of the way so she could breathe.

He sighed. She didn’t look at him, fear and uncertainty keeping her eyes glued downward. This wasn’t how she’d expected things to go. Truth be told, she’d been picturing a fairy tale. Love at first sight happened, didn’t it?

But Avery Russell wasn’t the duke. So all she had to do was get to the real Duke of Granville. He’d fall in love with her, and everything would be fine. She took a deep breath.

“Mr. Russell, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting like a lunatic. Can I have a minute to explain? I promise, if you don’t believe me, I’ll get out of here without another word.” How she’d manage that she didn’t have a freaking clue, but she had to get him to listen.

His expression softened but barely. He nodded. “You have one minute.”

Great. And crap. What the hell could she say? Her brain buzzed, ideas flitting like deranged bumblebees, each one crazier than the last. She had to come up with something, anything. This was too important to screw up. The truth hadn’t worked so well. Maybe she should get a little bit more creative.

“Okay, listen to me. I’m from two hundred years in the future. My grandfather is a trained assassin. I’m his scout. We’ve discovered that there’s a threat to the duke’s life, and his only hope is for me to marry him and take him back to the future with me.”

He released her then but only to cover the bark of laughter that had escaped him at her ridiculous answer. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn’t help but smile at herself. That hadn’t been her best effort. Maybe she’d been watching too much Doctor Who lately.

Avery shook his head. “Your tales become more and more outrageous, Miss Ramsey.”

“Well, you wouldn’t believe the truth. I just wanted an adventure, and Mrs. Knightsbridge said my destiny was in this house. Would you turn down the chance to find your perfect love?”

He snorted in derision. “Love is a child’s fairy tale. And you must be more of a child than you seem to believe in such nonsense.”

Hot shame burned her cheeks. She crossed her arms in self-defense at his mocking tone. “So you don’t think the duke could be my true love? Even though Mrs. Knightsbridge has a hundred percent success rate?”

“It is impossible.” He shook his head. “As I said, you must be a foolish girl.”

Leah swallowed hard at the ridiculous knot in her throat. What did this stranger’s opinion matter? This was a once in a lifetime adventure, and she’d be damned if a stuffy valet would stand in her way. Mrs. Knightsbridge said her true love was here, and she owed it to her grandfather to find the best husband she possibly could. She gathered her courage and stared Avery straight in the eye. She hadn’t backed down from a challenge in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“I am not a child, and I am not a fool. I know exactly what I’m doing, thank you very much.” With a confidence born of many years of acting classes, Leah smoothed her dress down her hips, willing them to twist slightly, enough to get his attention. “And if you don’t believe in love, that’s your problem.” Turning with a dramatic swish of her skirts, she strode to the other end of the massive chamber like a queen, making sure to twitch her ass. Tossing a look over her shoulder, she smiled when she saw the lustful fury brewing in his eyes. Teasing him shouldn’t make her this happy, but damn it, the stuffy jerk deserved it.

“Well, Miss Ramsey, who am I to stand in the way of true love?” The last words were said in a mocking tone so bitter that they made Leah wince. “If you should like to remain here, I will not stop you. You may look to Smythe for that honor.”

With a bow that was more mocking than respectful, the valet turned on his heel and left the room.

Leah sank down on the bed, rubbing her forehead. Why didn’t she feel triumphant? Hurdle number one had been cleared. So what was with the nervous bubble in her gut?

Swallowing her anxiety, she stood and took a deep, calming breath. Time to get her game face on and go round two with Mr. Smythe. This isn’t going to be easy, but then again, Leah thought as she exited the massive bedchamber, nothing worth doing usually is.

The corridor was wide enough to put a couple of pool tables end-to-end and still have room to play them both. Gilt-framed portraits spanned the huge hall that was lined with expensive furnishings, showpieces, and closed doors. Picking up a small vase from a marquetry table, Leah examined it in the critical way her Pawpaw had drilled into her since she was tiny.

“Holy cow,” she whispered to herself, and quickly put the ancient porcelain down. That piece could easily buy and sell a pretty nice Lexus a couple times over. Rubbing her suddenly sweaty palms against her borrowed costume skirt, Leah backed up to the wall to get another look at her surroundings. She was really beginning to worry that she was out of her league. And for a girl like Leah, who’d never met a challenge she didn’t want to fling herself face-first into, that was really saying something.