Regency 02 - Betrayal (8 page)

Adam’s smile disappeared. “No, you’re
not.”

“I hardly think you have any right to decide
my friends, Adam.”

“But I do have a right to decide who may or
may not associate with my guest.” He sighed and shoved a hand
through his dark locks. “Damn it, I knew it was a bad idea to bring
you here,” he muttered half to himself.

Raven controlled her temper. She had to know
what Adam planned to do with Bri. “All of that aside,” she replied
in a tone that suggested they would argue about her choice in
friends later, “what do you plan to do with her?”

Adam looked at her and for the first time
felt like throwing her out on her ear. He had never found her
particularly annoying before but now he felt like giving the woman
her
congé
. Blast, women were the devil! What would she do if
he told her that Bri must go back?

He couldn’t take any chances in losing the
chit again. “I will tell you when I’ve reached a decision,” he
replied evasively.

Raven could tell that was the only answer she
was going to receive at that moment. “Fine,” she capitulated. She
had some doubts that he would tell her, but there was nothing else
she could do for the time being. “But as her nurse, I must ask you
to please refrain from tiring her out as you did today.”

Lady Rothsmere plucked nervously at the
coverlet on the bed. She eyed her companion with some
misgiving.

She didn’t know why she was so uncertain
about asking this particular woman questions. She had, after all,
spent the past week doing little more than converse with her and
laugh with her and become closer and closer. So why did she feel so
reluctant to ask her what she really wanted to know?

Probably because it would be rude, vulgar,
and impertinent for her to do so. Bri had never let such things
stop her before. Those very reasons had often spurred her on to
somewhat reckless acts, as a matter of fact.

But now she found herself facing an actress
from Drury Lane, someone undeserving of a countess’s notice let
alone her friendship for the simple reason that she had chosen
acting as her means of survival. However, Bri couldn’t get around
the feeling that it would be beyond rude to ask Raven what she
wanted to know.

And why did she even care? It wasn’t as if
she was interested in Adam herself. The man was infuriating and
rude and stubborn and hardheaded and cynical and…and…

Bri realized she had just described
herself.

This realization stilled her hands ensuring
the coverlet’s survival. Were they really so much alike? It wasn’t
possible. If she were like him…the thought did not deserve the
attention she was giving it. And neither did he.

“It might relieve your mind if you just ask
me whatever it is you want to know.”

Looking up, Bri encountered amused black
eyes. She smiled slightly and looked away. Raven continued to look
at her expectantly.

“Do you love him?” Bri blurted out before the
thought had even formed in her head.

Raven’s perfectly arched brows quirked
upward. “I assume you are referring to Adam,” she replied in her
slightly husky voice. Her gaze turned enigmatic, mysterious, as if
she knew a secret of great import and she was debating whether or
not to share. “I also assume you have a good reason for asking, so
I will tell you. In a way, of course I do. He is a very dear friend
after all and has played a big part in my survival.” She smiled.
“No, I am not in love with him.”

Bri released the breath she hadn’t been aware
she was even holding. “I am completely disgusted with myself,” she
said heatedly. “And Adam. I am beyond well, yet here I sit, in bed,
as if I am still ill. Why can’t I walk about? I would like to go
outside. I would like to feel less like an invalid and more like a
human being.”

Miss Emerson chuckled. “That explains your
disgust for Adam. What about you?”

Bri flushed, embarrassed for the first time
for her impertinence. “I had no business asking you such a personal
question, especially considering your relationship with Adam, and I
am severely disappointed in myself for succumbing to
temptation.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind. But I wouldn’t go
asking Adam the same question,” she warned lightly. “He may lie or
stretch the truth a bit just to try to set you off. You know how he
is.”

Adam entered the room at that moment and both
women wondered how much he had heard, if anything. His look gave
nothing away since it was a well-bred blank and his eyes were
shuttered.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a
slightly mocking bow that indicated his belief that there were no
such creatures present in that particular room. “I trust I find you
both well.”

“Yes. Why the devil am I still confined to
this bloody bed?”

One black brow rose imperiously. Adam stared
at Bri until she flushed with embarrassment for the second time
that day. She cursed him in her head and corrected, “I am well,
thank you, Mr. Prestwich. I hope you are well?” Her tone implied
she wished no such thing. “Will I be able to leave my bed
soon?”

Adam let his amusement show. His lips quirked
upward and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why haven’t you
defied me?” he asked in a most conversational tone.

Bri was determined not to let him goad her.
She smiled brilliantly. “I would never do anything so vulgar as
defy my temporary guardian,” she replied with a sweetness that was
truly awful to behold. “Why, what would he think of me were I to do
such a hoydenish thing?”

“He would probably think you were actually
better,” Prestwich retorted dryly. “How can I be sure you are
strong enough to go home if you are still not acting like the Bri I
know?”

“Oh, dear God, you’re sending me back,” Bri
breathed in sudden trepidation.

She was surprised that she had actually
believed that he would see the truth in her story and not take her
back. Had she really wanted to make a knight-errant out of the
infamous Mr. Adam Prestwich? Everyone knew what a cold-hearted
devil he was.
She
knew personally what a cold-hearted devil
he was. Why would he change for her?

“Adam, you can’t possibly send her back
there. Do you—”

“Leave us, Raven,” Prestwich commanded
curtly. “This doesn’t concern you.”

He advanced into the room. Raven stood her
ground and glared up at him defiantly. “I will not let you do it,
Adam.”

Adam’s hand shot out and clamped painfully on
her wrist. “You will obey me in this, woman,” he bit out as he
propelled her to the door. He shoved her through, closed the door,
and locked it.

“That was a trifle harsh, don’t you
think?”

Adam approached the bed. He stood next to it,
his arms once again crossed over his broad chest. “Perhaps,” he
admitted. “But I find I have no patience for females at the
moment.”

“That is hardly an acceptable excuse for
manhandling a weaker creature than you, Mr. Prestwich.”

A grunt was the only indication he even heard
her words. “You are going home today, Lady Rothsmere. Prepare
yourself for it.”

Bri sighed. She was suddenly so tired. Tired
of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of…life.

“Fine,” she replied woodenly.

Adam noticed her change in mood and wondered
at it. He suspected that she was merely trying to trick him into
letting down his guard so she could escape again.

“Are you going to try to escape?” he finally
asked after studying her for several tense moments on his part.

“No.”

“Do I have your word?”

She hesitated. “Yes. You have my word I will
not attempt to escape,” she replied solemnly.

“Thank you.”

Adam turned to leave. Bri felt all her old
anger return for a moment and she glared at his retreating back
wishing she had a knife to stick there. She settled for words.

“You’re an unconscionable bastard, Adam
Prestwich. I feel sorry for your wife.”

Adam froze. How did she…? No, it wasn’t
possible. He turned around slowly, fixing her with a basilisk
stare. “What did you say?”

Bri returned his gaze with one of her own.
“You will marry one day and I pity the poor girl who is forced to
accept your hand.”

Adam’s relief was so great, he actually
smiled, albeit mockingly. “Well, I will never marry, so you need
not trouble your
kind heart
with her miserable fortune.”

It was every bit as bad as she had thought it
would be. She stood in the rigidly formal drawing room of the Duke
of Corning’s London residence in Grosvenor Square. Well, it was
actually one of
her
homes but this point was moot at the
moment. Adam had retreated a pace but he was still within reach and
her family virtually surrounded them.

They were all there: both dukes and their
wives, the earl and countess, and even her cousin Viscount Breckon.
It crossed her mind that Levi was missing and she felt like she was
completely friendless. He was the only one she could count on to
take her side.

Her blasted family fawned over her for quite
half-an-hour exclaiming over how worried they were and how naughty
she was. It was all just a show for Adam, she knew, and he just
stood there like a big dumb animal and said nothing unless asked a
direct question.

Bri watched her nemesis surreptitiously while
her Aunt Clara lamented the loss of her dark red locks. Honestly,
Bri didn’t really miss them. Her hair had been thick and heavy
causing her constant headaches. Since her convalesce at Lockwood,
her hair had grown to a more manageable length and recovered its
deep red luster. It now closely resembled a fashionable crop.

Adam met her gaze suddenly and she realized
the mocking look had gone to be replaced by an unreadable emotion.
Puzzled, she looked back at Aunt Clara, Countess of Fenton.

Aunt Clara was a short, flighty little thing
with more hair than wit. She adopted the mannerisms of a débutante
although she was well into her fiftieth year. When presented to
Adam she had simpered and flirted awfully. Bri was impressed with
his ability to hide the disgust he had to feel.

“My dear girl, you have lost weight as well,
have you not? This is just dreadful! However shall you find a
husband looking the way you do?” Aunt Clara twisted her hands
together in distress.

“Don’t be a twit, Clara,” the Duchess of
Corning inserted sharply. “She doesn’t need looks. She has money
and a title. Besides, her betrothed is awaiting her.”

“What?” Adam and Bri exclaimed
simultaneously. They exchanged looks of consternation although
Adam’s stance had not changed. He still stood a little from her
with his left hand fingering his quizzing glass and his right hand
shoved in the pocket of his pantaloons. Surprise had him
momentarily stiffening and the hand on his glass paused for a
fraction of a second. But then he was in complete control
again.

Lady Corning turned a haughty look on Mr.
Prestwich. “You may go now, sir. You have completed your task, I
think.” Her nose rose another notch, if that was even possible.

Adam restrained his sudden urge to toss the
old bat out the window and bowed instead. He threw a look at Bri
and took his leave.

Bri watched him go and wondered why she felt
even more friendless than she had before. Then she faced her family
and shivered. Corning was wearing a smirk and his wife was staring
at her disdainfully. Aunt Clara was still fidgeting, as usual, and
the Duke of Westbury was looking mighty pleased with himself. The
viscount stood by the window, looking out on the square as if the
drawing room proceedings held no interest for him. The Earl of
Fenton’s expression was impassive and she wondered if perhaps he
had succumbed to his past habit of taking laudanum on a regular
basis. His eyes looked decidedly glassy.

It took all of her willpower not to dash
after Adam and beg him to take her away. She knew that the dukes’
plans had changed and she knew they would be even worse than
before.

He stopped just outside the front door and
looked up. He caught the look of cunning on Viscount Breckon’s
face. He had to repress a shiver.

Adam shook his head and vaulted into his
phaeton. His tiger handed him the reins and Adam set off, barely
giving the lad time to leap on the back.

Adam drove through the late morning streets
of London at a reckless pace, trying to outrun his conscience. He
shouldn’t have left her there with those people. But what could he
have possibly done? She was underage. They had control. Her family
contained two dukes, an earl, a viscount, and a few minor titles as
well. Adam Prestwich, baronet, quite simply lacked the power to
help her.

He had the money, of that he was sure.
Westbury had barely a feather to fly with; Corning had not much
more than that. Of the viscount Adam knew little, but he suspected
that he was a trifle lean in the pocket as well. Everyone knew that
Fenton spent every cent he had on his drug habit so Adam knew there
was no money there. There was a baron in there somewhere but Adam
didn’t even know his name much less his financial situation.

But did she really need the help? Or was her
family telling the truth when they told him she was just being a
spoiled brat? What on earth had possessed the Earl of Rothsmere to
leave her in the care of impecunious relatives?

A vision of haunted emerald eyes flashed
before his eyes and he jerked the reins. It took him a few moments
to bring his team back under control while Jem muttered something
about ham-fisted driving.

Why did he have to remember that now? She
would have to be a better actress than Raven to have been lying
when she told him about the straitjacket. She had cried. Piteously.
It was very unlike Bri to cry.

Especially in front of him.