A Taste of Seduction (11 page)

She hoped he was burning in hell.

Hadley walked toward his home, his world in tatters.

She'd been innocent!

His insides crawled as if maggots were eating his soul. He swallowed back a bellow, his fists clenching by his sides. He'd let her down—badly. He'd let her live in hell—yes, she'd called it hell—for five long years, let a man force himself on her, beat her most likely…

Bile rose thick and fast in his throat.

His heart broke in his chest, the pain so intense he had to stop walking. All this time they could have been happy.

His heart lurched, pounding madly in his chest. A string of expletives exploded from his lips, directed partly at the world, but more so at himself.

With sudden brutal clarity he understood how thoroughly he'd underestimated Evangeline's mother. His heart thundered as a wave of anger crashed through his mind. He drew a shuddering breath. One enemy at a time. But he vowed before God he would have his vengeance.

Evangeline had always loved him. Raising a hand to his head, he pummeled himself. Understanding nearly brought him to his knees; she had always loved him, yet he'd left her trapped for five long years. That thought was paralyzing. His was a debt he could never repay. Money was one thing, possessions another, but how did you give someone her life back?

He'd stood back and let evil ruin the only truly wonderful thing he'd ever had in his life. Ruined the woman he'd professed he loved more than life itself.

Instead of trusting in her love, he'd abandoned her to a terrible fate, letting his own insecurities blind him to the truth.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. It was the shadow from the gaslight above that alerted him to the danger he was in.

He instinctively turned and twisted to his left just as a knife plunged toward his heart. He deflected the blow, but the dagger sliced his arm. Without thinking, he exploded into action, fueled by his pent-up rage. His fist connected with his attacker's chin, and his knee rose to slam into the man's groin. His assailant went down in a heap at Hadley's feet, out cold.

Hadley stood over him breathing heavily. He had to fight every instinct not to beat the unconscious man to death.

A hackney turned into the street, and he waved it down. He opened the carriage door, picked up his assailant, and threw him onto the floor of the carriage before providing the driver with Arend's address.

He looked forward to being there when the man came to. And he hoped the man would not be reluctant to provide him with the answers he and Arend needed, because by God, he badly wanted to pummel something, or someone.

“My lord, Lord Fullerton is here.”

Hadley heard Arend impatiently say to his butler, “Well, see him in, Jeeves.”

“He has, ah, a
person
with him….”

Hadley pushed past the butler and dropped his prisoner at Arend's feet. The man was beginning to stir.

Arend took in the sight of Hadley's thunderous face and smiled. A shiver went down Hadley's back. He'd hate to make an enemy of Arend.

“It's all right, Jeeves. Lord Fullerton has brought me a present.” Arend shooed his butler out before closing the door and slowly turning to study the man moaning and drooling on Arend's expensive-looking Persian rug.

At Arend's questioning raised eyebrow, Hadley told him, “He attacked me in my street, a few doors down from Claymore House.”

“He must be good to have got that close to you,” Arend said as he tugged his cravat off and wound it round Hadley's forearm.

Hadley looked at the spots of blood dripping on Arend's rug. He hadn't even realized he was bleeding.

“Apologies. I'll buy you a new one.”

“Think nothing of it. I'm rather taken with the present you've brought me.”

Arend turned his dark gaze toward the man whose eyes were slowly opening. He crouched down and checked him for more weapons. He found nothing. He rose and handed Arend the dagger he had taken off the man earlier.

Arend leaned close to the man's ear and let the dagger, glinting in the lamplight, drift toward the man's eye. “Lord Fullerton and I are not in the mood to play games. So, my friend, we shall let you live, and go free, if you tell us who hired you.”

The man's eyes rolled back in his head, and it looked for a moment as though he might pass out again.

Arend stood. “Where are my manners? A drink perhaps.” He poured some whiskey into a glass and then promptly threw it in the man's face.

The man spluttered and licked the drops off his chin before finally gaining focus. He tried to roll away from Arend, who once again was leaning over him with the knife.

“Now, my man, why don't you tell us why you tried to kill my friend?” Arend pushed the tip of the dagger into the flesh of his neck.

“They said I could earn two hundred pounds.”

“Two hundred pounds?” Hadley scoffed. “My life is only worth two hundred pounds?”

“I think you're missing the point,” Arend said to Hadley before returning his focus to the man on the floor. “Who said they'd pay you?”

Their captive looked between the two men, fear creeping into his expression. “It was a man, but he wore a mask.”

Hadley asked, “Are you sure it was a man if you could not see a face?”

“Aye, I'm sure.” Then he added to Hadley, “Nothin' personal. Gotta earn coin.”

Hadley stomped across the room and back again. “I'll call for the Runners. He's told us nothing important.”

“Hold on,” the man broke in. “There
was
a woman with him. A woman, and another gent who wore a cape and hood.” He paused briefly. “In fact, the man in the cape could have been a woman too. He was small in stature, even sitting on a horse.”

Arend stood up and looked at Hadley. “Describe the woman.”

“I couldn't see her very clearly, but she had dark hair, wound on top of her head in some fancy braid. She was slim but with big breasts—her riding jacket was straining at the ties.”

Arend slammed one fist into his palm. “Isobel. I knew it. It's Vic—”

“Shh.” Hadley looked at the man at his feet. Could they believe anything he said? What if he was telling them lies? Lies he'd been paid to tell them? The information had been shared far too easily. They hadn't had to hurt him at all.

He pulled Arend aside. “He could be lying. He gave up the information too quickly.”

Arend, his face a mask of seething rage, tore his eyes away from the man lying on his rug and stared at Hadley. “Then best we dig a little deeper.” He moved back toward the man, the dagger glinting in his hand.

An hour later, the rug was definitely ruined, and the man lay moaning softly at their feet. Both Arend and Hadley were now satisfied he was telling the truth. A woman who looked like Isobel
had
been at the meeting where he was offered money to attack Hadley. Another person, who could also have been a woman, had been with her, while it was a man with a mask who had procured his services.

They honored their word, giving the man a stiff whiskey and letting him go. He took off into the night before Arend had closed the door.

They moved to Arend's study while Jeeves organized the removal of the blood-stained rug and Arend washed his hands in a bowl. Then Arend poured them both a drink while Hadley tried to get his emotions under control.

“You were very stoic tonight. I expected you to object to my methods.”

Hadley stared at his friend, the emotions of the day choking him. He'd learned this day that he'd let the woman he professed to love be abducted and sold into a form of slavery, and he'd been attacked once more. He'd had enough.

“I'm sick of being a target. I want this to end.”

Arend raised his glass to that. “It's proof we need. If Isobel was present, then it can be no other than Victoria.”

“It could be a coincidence that the woman looked like Isobel.”

“You don't believe that any more than I do. Victoria is our villainess, and Isobel is involved. However, we can't accuse a lady, or ladies, of murder without proof. I hope the journals Evangeline is looking through contain evidence. Alternatively, we need a confession.”

At the mention of Evangeline, Hadley's world darkened even further. He was amazed she still wanted to help, given how he'd betrayed her love.

Why hadn't he believed in her?
He'd ask himself that question until the day he died.

Arend leaned forward in his chair. “Evangeline
is
going to share what she learns, isn't she? Please tell me you haven't told her to sod off back to Scotland just yet.”

Hadley threw the rest of his whiskey down his throat and held out his glass for a refill. He couldn't meet Arend's eyes.

“Christ, Hadley! Did your pride stop you from asking for her help? So, she up and married another. You had a lucky escape, if you ask me. A fickle woman who owns your heart could make your life a misery. If you have to marry, and I know you feel that you do, better to marry Lady Claire to appease Augustus. At least with her you know where you stand.”

For one tiny moment Hadley wished he could be like Arend. Arend didn't appear to need anyone, not even the other Libertine Scholars. He'd been close with them at Eton, and then he'd disappeared for several years. No one knew where'd he gone, and he never talked about his time away. He'd been broke, not a penny to his name, when he left, and wealthy beyond measure upon his return. But he'd changed. He was darker, more moody, and the joy seemed to have left his world. Would the truth Hadley had learned today even shock him?

“She didn't marry another voluntarily.” He almost wept over the words.

Whiskey spat from Arend's mouth. He looked at Hadley in horror. “My God, do you mean her story is true?”

Hadley closed his eyes and let the guilt and pain sweep his body. “Yes,” he said, and proceeded to tell Arend the story of their betrayal at the hands of her mother, his friend's face growing darker as the story unfolded. “Fucking hell.” Arend refilled his glass and downed it in one gulp.

They sat in silence for ages. Finally Arend spoke. “Just as well her husband is dead, or I'd have helped you kill him. No one should be forced to…Well, I can't say I'm surprised she won't help us.”

“That's just it. She
will
help us. She and the ladies will go through the journals. She understands that she and her son are in danger, given society's preoccupation with gossip around our relationship.”

Or lack of relationship. He couldn't deny he was still attracted to her. She was as beautiful as ever. When he thought of what could have been, his heart broke.

“She must still be in love with you.” Arend's words jarred his soul.

“How could she be? I left her with that man, a man she hated, a man who forced himself on her. She had a son….” He uttered a curse. “When she came to tell me, I turned her away, telling her she lied. And to top it all off, it was because of me that she was shot. She must hate me.”

“Love and hate share a very thin line, my friend.” Arend cocked his head to one side. “More important is how you feel about her.”

“Feel? I feel so much I can barely think of tomorrow.”

Arend scoffed. “Don't. Don't torture yourself by endlessly going over ‘what if' and ‘if only.' Believe me, it will eat at you until the end of your days. Given Stowe's collaboration, you had no reason to believe the letter she wrote was not a forgery.”

“Ah, that's where you are wrong. I knew something wasn't right. I did. Deep down inside I knew it wasn't right, but my stupid bloody pride convinced me not to run after her like a lovesick puppy. If only I had—”

“Stop, Hadley. We have two women to destroy now, Victoria and Lady Althrope.” Arend propped his boots up on the stone fireguard of the hearth. “It would seem Lady Evangeline has a good life now that her husband is dead. She has her son, money, homes…What's done is done and cannot be undone. You've both moved on.”

Moved on.
Arend had no idea what he was talking about. He'd not moved on. Hadley recalled the moment, two nights ago, when she'd walked into Christian's house. After five long years without her, his body had seized with pain, want, and need. The fortress around his heart burst open with one simple look at her. He instantly remembered the day he'd met her. He'd wanted to make her his. And he still did.

The dream of her as his wife was gone. Surely, after his lack of trust and faith in their love, she would most definitely not wish to trust her heart to him again.

“You're right, of course. We have both moved on. I'm about to announce my engagement at the end of the month, and she is already talking about heading back to Scotland. She's here to appoint a new man of business to help look after her son's inheritance.”

“Bullshit. A woman who hates you doesn't scour all of London to find you, get her apology, and then stay to help you catch a villain who's out to kill you. If she hated you, she'd walk away. Don't be such a coward. Face the past and see if you can have a happy future.”

All Hadley could think was
Too late.
Arend was right—he'd go crazy if he kept repeating “if only” one more time. The Evangeline who had returned from Scotland was different from the young girl he had known. Of course she would be after everything she'd gone through.

He had to change the subject—his emotions were still too raw for him to talk about what could be. “What are you going to do about Isobel?” Hadley asked.

Arend's eyes darkened even further. “She thinks she's playing me…us. I shall turn the tables. A woman in love can be very malleable. I intend to seduce her and make her turn on her stepmother.”

“A tad risky, don't you think?” At Arend's grim smile he added, “I hope it doesn't backfire on you. If she is innocent, you could end up married to her.”

“If she is innocent, I'd ride naked in the derby,” Arend muttered. “I'm sure it was she at that meeting with your attacker. Victoria and Isobel didn't arrive at the opera until intermission. She told me Victoria had to run an errand first.”

Hadley sat up in his chair. “You need to consider that Isobel may not be involved in the plot, but was simply taken along because her stepmother is her chaperone.”

“Perhaps, but I'll soon find out. The guilty cannot hide things from me.”

Hadley looked into Arend's eyes and nodded, though inwardly he wondered. Usually the people who could read others like an open book became blind when feelings entered the equation. Whether Isobel was indeed guilty or not, Arend was consumed with her. And that was not a good sign. Hadley wondered if Arend realized that the young woman, not Victoria, had become his obsession.