A Taste of Seduction (12 page)

It had been three days since Evangeline last saw Hadley. She had not invited him to her house while she was convalescing, even though he wrote her a note every day asking after her health. She couldn't have any of the Libertine Scholars in her house, because should any of them run into Sealey it would ruin everything. In addition, she didn't want to put Sealey in danger by indicating any sort of relationship with Hadley.

Luckily, the men hadn't bothered to push the issue about the journals, because their wives were helping her. So far, the ladies had learned only that Evangeline's mother had in fact set up her abduction by approaching Viscount Stuart, and that it was her mother who'd written the forged note. Evangeline had begun to hope that her mother would die a painful death, and she itched to write to Edward to assure herself he was well.

She pushed all thoughts of journals aside as the carriage drew up outside a very fashionable London townhouse. Tonight she'd joined Marisa, with Maitland acting as escort for them both, to attend Lady Claudia Beaumont's ball. As she ascended the stairs to the ballroom with her arm linked through one of Maitland's, Marisa on his other side, it appeared that every pair of eyes turned her way.

The news of her injury had spread like a leaf caught in a hurricane. She'd been shot outside Lord Fullerton's house. The
ton
was abuzz as to why—why she had been there, and why she had been shot. And by whom? Thieves had been blamed, but as to why she'd been at his house…The whispering behind the fans was worse than the stares.

It had been Maitland's suggestion that Hadley also attend the ball, though Evangeline suspected Marisa had been behind it. However, when she spotted him, Hadley didn't look very happy to be here.

As they joined the rest of the Libertine Scholars and their wives, she whispered to Hadley, “Smile, my lord. Anyone would think you hated me.”

Hadley started at her words and turned his head to smile at her briefly before resuming his scowl. “Good. If Victoria thinks I have feelings for you, that places you in too much danger. I have already left you in danger once before, and I refuse to do so again.”

She felt her face flush with pleasure. “Well, you are a fabulous actor. You look as if you'd like to squash me under your shoe. You look angry, true, but also a little sad.”

“Not sad, merely reflective.”

She hoped he was thinking exactly what she was—that if not for her mother, they could be standing here with their friends as husband and wife. “Let's make a pact not to keep focusing on the tragedy of the past. I want to be happy again. I'm sure you do too.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Can you so easily put aside what was done to you?”

A shudder make her knees knock. “Easily? No.” She still had nightmares, and found it hard to get to sleep before two in the morning, still expecting her husband to come to her for his husbandly rights. She couldn't relax until her mind fully understood that he was never coming again, that he could never hurt her again.

A sigh escaped her lips and she fought to keep the smile plastered on her face. “Fate is an evil bitch, isn't it?” she said with a droll laugh. “You still have some groveling to do regarding your treatment of me at our first meeting. Why did you hate me so?”

This was a test of his honesty. Would he share his feelings?

“Your leaving broke my heart, and it's been broken ever since.”

Her hands unclenched. He'd admitted he still had strong feelings for her. Shock ripped through her. Without a thought to their audience she reached out and cupped his cheek. “I'm sorry. I assumed I was the only one who had been hurt.”

A cough at her shoulder broke the moment, and she stepped back. Marisa whispered in her ear, “If Victoria had any doubt about your feelings for each other before, it's very clear now,” and she nodded toward the other side of the ballroom, where Lady Victoria was watching them through assessing eyes.

A flutter of fear slipped across Evangeline's skin, but she told herself not to spend her night watching Victoria. Or Hadley. That would be far too obvious.

Just at that moment Isobel spotted the ladies and began to make her way through the throng toward them, Victoria following in her wake.

She watched Arend's eyes darken and his shoulders stiffen. She nudged him. “If I can read you this easily, Victoria will too. Relax.”

Arend immediately lost the angry scowl and bowed over her hand. “Lady Evangeline, would you do me the honor of this dance?”

He didn't wait for her reply but simply swept her into his arms as the waltz began. They moved away just as Isobel and Victoria reached their party.

“My apologies,” he murmured as they danced, “but I needed to get myself under control before meeting Victoria or I'm liable to alert her to the fact we have them in our sights.”

“ ‘Them'? You can't mean Isobel. She would never be party to such villainy.” She felt his hand tighten around hers, and she pressed on. “I think you do Isobel a disservice. Besides, I hope you are wrong, as she knows about the journals and what they may contain.” Isobel also knew about Sealey's parentage, but Evangeline couldn't tell Arend that. She searched his eyes. “What do you know that I do not?”

“Hadley was attacked again.” Luckily, Arend was holding her tightly, or she'd have tripped over his feet. “He's fine, as you can see—just a slight cut to his arm. He managed to capture his attacker, who told us that he'd been hired by a man who wore a mask but that a woman who matched Isobel's description was nearby.”

Her racing heart began to slow. Isobel? That didn't make sense. “Why would the man hide his face only to let Isobel be seen?”

“I agree, it's very suspect. The other person with Isobel also hid his—or her—identity.”

“It's almost as if someone wanted us to know it was Isobel,” Evangeline said, and Arend nodded.

They danced for a while without speaking. At last Evangeline looked up at Arend and asked, “Is she attending tonight?”

This time it was Arend whose step slightly wavered. He cleared his throat. “Who?”

“Don't play games with me. I know he is soon to announce his betrothal to Lady Claire.”

“He doesn't want to marry her.”

A thrill washed over her. “Then why?”

“Because it seemed sensible at the time. Augustus is the Marquis of Corby's best friend, and the two of them needed to find his wallflower sister a husband. Augustus asked, and Hadley agreed that if Claire was still unwed when he reached thirty, he'd marry her.”

“Again, why?”

Arend looked down at her for a long moment. “His heart was broken when you married someone else. He knew he'd never love another woman, but he wants children, and that requires a wife. Claire was as good as any other.”

“No, I mean, why was it Hadley who had to marry her? Why not Augustus?”

“Lady Claire would never cope as the wife of a duke. So the two of them foisted her off on Hadley, taking advantage of his low point. He should have said no.”

Her mouth firmed. “Men are so bloody stupid.”

She gazed across the room at the man she had loved—whom she loved now—and wished their lives were as simple as they had been five years ago. Then they had had eyes only for each other, and were prepared to break all the rules and elope. Life, it would appear, was never that simple.

Arend looked at her closely. “You still love him, don't you?”

She did not reply. She couldn't bring herself to say
Of course.
She was nervous that the words weren't true, and frightened that they were. What if he didn't choose her?

It was as if Arend had read her thoughts, for he said, “Then make him see it's not too late to change his mind. There has been no announcement, and Claire doesn't even know the plan.” At her blank look he added, “Do you want him to marry Lady Claire?”

“Shouldn't he be allowed to make up his own mind for a change?”

Arend frowned. “Only if he makes the right choice.”

“And you think you know the right choice better than he? Isn't that exactly what Augustus was doing, forcing him down one path rather than letting him choose? I want him to choose me because he wants to. Because it's his heart's desire. Not because he thinks he owes me for…well, you know.”

“I want him to be happy. He's been more animated since you arrived than I've seen him these past five years. He has strong feelings for you. Convince him to forgo Claire—he'll deeply regret it if he doesn't.”

The music seemed louder, and she could barely think. “You know him better than anyone else. I know he's forgiven me, but will he ever forgive himself? He can barely look at me.”

Arend twirled them closer to where Hadley was standing, then leaned in and whispered in her ear, “See how he's watching me? He looks like he wants to kill me right now for being overly familiar with you. Imagine how much worse he'll feel if he's married to Claire and must watch you marry another. You're young and beautiful, Evangeline. You deserve happiness too.”

She sighed at Arend's words. He was right—if Hadley married Claire, it would make sense for her to eventually marry someone else. She just couldn't imagine giving her heart to anyone else.

The evening dragged like a full fisherman's net. Hadley was excited to see Evangeline again but was concerned about what the night might bring. Victoria was clever, and it was obvious to all that he was besotted with Evangeline. He tried not to watch every step she took, tried to hide how much he hated all the men fawning over the beautiful, wealthy widow.

It also appeared that Augustus was watching them too. Usually he never came to these events. Perhaps if his brother saw how he and Evangeline felt about each other, he'd understand why Hadley had to back out of their agreement.

To make matters worse, Isobel seemed intent on playing Cupid and bringing Evangeline and Hadley together. And her stepmother was paying close attention to Hadley's every interaction with Evangeline.

To his shame, he had declared his interest inadvertently. Marisa told him he was clearly staking a claim with his eyes, and he himself had realized that several rakes who had approached Evangeline had seen him scowl at them and scurried away. It meant only one thing: Evangeline was now a target. Goddamn it all to hell.

He needed to warn her. He saw that she had just finished dancing with Lord Atherton, near the doors to the terrace. He could do with some fresh air away from watchful eyes, and he'd bloody well make sure Atherton didn't take her out onto the terrace, as he was obviously trying to do.

As he drew near, her scent titillated his senses. He loved how her eyes were once again shining and full of laughter. She'd had a haunted look about her on their first meeting, but he'd been too defensive to analyze her body language and notice her pain.

His heart beat faster. The noise of the crowd seemed to diminish, and all he could see and hear was Evangeline. As she turned and spotted him approaching, the welcoming smile she gave him made him feel as if he were walking on air.

For the first time that evening he didn't give a damn that Augustus was watching him as closely as Victoria seemed to be. He wanted to be by Evangeline's side. He wanted the whole world to know she was his.

Without a word he offered her his arm. She immediately took it, and he steered her out onto the terrace and down into the garden. Neither of them spoke as he guided her further into the quiet darkness, behind the shrubbery.

Before she could say a word, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her. It was something he'd wanted to do ever since the day she'd walked back into his life. She didn't fight him but simply pressed closer, her arms rising to wrap tightly around his neck.

His heart was pounding like a drum in his chest, drowning out all thought, all sounds, until every feeling centered on the woman in his arms, warm and supple.

His hands roamed over her abundant curves, and he gave thanks for the fashion of flimsy silk dresses. His hands molded her bottom, and he pulled her closer, letting her feel his need of her.

She sighed into his mouth, and her hands stroked his back down to his buttocks, which she gripped in order to rub herself along the hard length of him.

The sensation caused him to lose all reason. He ceased to care who might stumble across them in the garden—even Victoria.

Slowly the ferociousness of the embrace lessened, and in its place came a surge of gentleness. Her lips softened invitingly under his, and at the tentative touch of her tongue on his own, Hadley felt an emotion akin to triumph. He had her in his arms again, something that had been a dream for five long years. He was careful not to tangle his fingers in her elaborately upswept hair, but really he wanted to let the thick copper tresses cascade over him in a sensual cloak.

Evangeline was making small sounds of pleasure deep in her throat—a sound that he remembered as if it were yesterday and they were still under their willow tree. The flowery scents from the garden around them caused memories of making love to her to flood his brain.

Finally she pulled back just enough to look into his face.

“I have missed you so much,” she said as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “I survived because I thought of you. Because I dreamed of us.”

He wiped them away with his thumb, wishing he could erase the last five years for her. “I'm so sorry this happened to you—to us.”

She nodded, too choked up to speak.

“If I could, I'd turn back time for you, though I can't. But I remember everything about you as if it was yesterday. I want you so badly. However, wanting you is dangerous—for several reasons.”

She stepped out of his embrace, angrily wiping her tears away. “Because of Victoria, or because of Claire?”

He looked up and took a deep breath. Honesty was needed; both of them had been lied to enough already.