A Taste of Seduction (5 page)

It was the scrutiny of a man who knew women intimately and didn't care that she understood that fact.

Her nails dug into her palms. She drew in a steadying breath, trying to calm the rage beginning to boil. She did not deserve his scorn.

“You should not have sought me out, Evangeline. I am not the gullible man I was when you last knew me.”

Evangeline eyed him coolly. “So it would appear. Nor were you ever this cold, unless your professions of love were all an act.”

His head snapped up, and he glared at her. “Cold? You have the nerve to speak of me being cold? Cold is professing love to one man while secretly planning to marry another.”

Bolts of lightning flashed in her head. She snapped her head back. “Did you not receive my letters?”

“I received the only one that I needed to receive. The one informing me you had no option other than to marry Viscount Stuart in order to help your family. Duty above love, you said.”

She shook her head, and waves of nausea engulfed her stomach. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Finally the bile receded. “I did not write such a letter. I wrote a letter begging you to save me.”

He eyed her warily. “No. No more lies. You were kind but clear. The letter said that there were advantages to marrying Viscount Stuart that in your youth you had overlooked.”

“That doesn't even sound like me.” But his face said it all. He did not believe her.

Oh my God,
she thought,
he never received any of my correspondence, or he would not be acting this way.
“You are under an incorrect comprehension, my lord. I was not planning to marry another. I wanted to marry you.”

Scorn filled his eyes. “Then pray tell how you ended up married to Viscount Stuart. As I recall a title, money, and standing are every debutante's dream.”

Evangeline addressed Hadley with a chilling smile. “You know very well it was not my dream. My dream was you.”

“How convenient to profess to have had this dream, now that you have a title and money. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Very stupid,” she said under her breath. Either that or he was using this so-called letter as an excuse. Did this letter even exist? She wanted to box his ears. She stood and walked to stand toe to toe with him, even though the top of her head only reached his chest. “You have no idea what the hell you are talking about. For five years I have barely lived—it has been more like merely existing—and if I'd had any choice, I would not have done so voluntarily for money or prestige or title. I doubt I would have even done it for you!” She was shaking so much that the pearl bracelets on her wrist were knocking together audibly.

Hadley's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. Before he could say another word she began to tell her sordid story.

“Five years ago I awoke in the bed of Viscount Stuart as he was forcing himself on me.” She knew her bottom lip was trembling, and she willed herself not to cry. She had not come to Hadley for pity. She'd come for an explanation. “My mother had sold me to Viscount Stuart. I was told I was legally wed to him, but I have no recollection of the ceremony. I suspect they used a veiled woman in my place to fool the priest. Either that or he was paid to make no objections.”

Hadley's eyes did not soften, but his hands lowered from where they rested on his hips.

“I tried to escape several times, but each time I was hunted down and returned to him. I will not tell you what punishment I received.” She turned away, not wishing him to see the haunted pain in her eyes.

A hand gripped her wrist, forcing her to turn back to face him. “I received a letter from you, in your handwriting, telling me a different story.” When she tried to tug her hand free, he let her go. “You wrote that you could not possibly let your family down. A mere second son was no longer an option you could in all good conscience marry, knowing your family's dire financial situation.”

“I did
not
write any such letter.”

“I assure you, I still have it, I checked it against the other notes you sent me during our affair, as at first I could not believe the words you wrote.” He leaned close. “The handwriting matched.”

She took a step back, pain sending her reeling backward. He did not believe her. Five years made such a difference, it would seem.

How could he not believe her? He obviously hadn't known her at all.

“Why would I be here if I had written such a note?”

“I have no idea. That is the only reason I am giving you one moment of my time.”

This “moment” was a nightmare—nothing like her dreams, in which he got down on his knees begging for her forgiveness, swearing he'd tried to find her and that he still loved her. Angry tears welled in her eyes.

“I cannot believe you would think me capable of such deception.”

“You are a brilliant actress, I'll give you that. However, words on paper do not lie.”

“I swear that I never wrote you any letter.” At his look of disbelief she added, “I wrote to you after I was kidnapped and forced into matrimony. Aggie, my maid, said she'd send a letter for me.”

“The only letter I received was the one detailing why it was impossible for you to wed a penniless second son, even the second son of a duke.”

“You obviously didn't know me at all if you were stupid enough to believe those words.”

The man she'd once loved looked at her as if she were a stranger.

Evangeline's heart somersaulted violently in her chest. He was as devastatingly handsome as ever, with the same lithe grace, the same lean hardness. Yet when she finally looked closely she saw that time had marked him. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, his shoulders were broader beneath his exquisitely tailored gray coat, his thighs looked more powerfully muscled, and his hair had darkened slightly.

Like a hungry scavenging dog, she soaked in his beauty. His cravat set off the finely chiseled chin, his aristocratic features just as striking now as they had been in the past. His face, with its high cheekbones and noble brow, had always been a beacon for the ladies. He had the devil's own beauty and had always been in demand among the mamas of unwed young ladies, even though he was only a second son.

She still, to this day, wondered how she had caught the interest of such a fine man. Or, as she'd learned to her cost, not such a fine man. To sleep with her, promise her his name, and then leave her to her fate…

Perhaps it was lust, not love, and once he'd slept with her, he had been relieved that she'd been forced to marry Viscount Stuart.

It wasn't the five years apart that made them strangers, she thought. Perhaps they had been so infatuated with each other that they had not taken the time to really learn about each other. Had she ever really known him? Or had she been blinded by his looks and the idea of love?

He hammered home his distrust. “You're right. It appeared that I didn't really know you back then, and I don't know you now. How can I ever trust anything you say when you come to me with this convoluted story?”

An ache of sorrow the size of the moon filled her. Once he had looked at her as if his whole world revolved around her. Now all she saw was contempt.

She laughed inwardly at herself. She had expected him to profess that he'd been waiting for her all these years. That he had tried to find her, to rescue her. At the very least he would be filled with guilt and sorrow for abandoning her to her fate.

She'd escaped her dreadful life only because her husband had had the grace to be killed by a highwayman. His title and estate went to their son, but he had left her a very sizeable fortune. She'd been absolutely astounded, as had his servants. The same servants who had not lifted a hand to help her for the five years she'd lived in the wilds of Scotland at Rossack Castle now kowtowed to her. One of the reasons she'd come to London was to escape the people who now did as she bid but who had kept her a virtual prisoner while Dougal was alive. When she returned,
if
she returned, she'd replace them all….

As to the money he'd left her, she liked to think that perhaps her husband had a conscience after all, but it was more likely that he'd hoped it might see him avoid hell because of the wrongs he'd perpetrated against her. No amount of money in the world would atone for what he'd done to her—taken from her. He had stolen her happiness and joy in living. He had stolen Hadley from her, or so she had thought. Seeing him now, she realized he had never been hers in the first place.

She would make him eat his words. “I want to see this letter.” She would have her groveling apology. Hadley owed her that at least.

His mouth dropped open and his hands rose to his hips once more. “What good will seeing the letter do?”

Time to turn the tables on him: “How do I know you're not lying simply to cover the fact you were pleased you didn't have to marry me? You wouldn't want me to know you're a coward or a cad.”

Anger flared in his eyes and his mouth firmed. “If anyone is a liar here, madam, it is you.” Without another word he stormed to the door and threw it open. He called for Christian's butler. “Can you hail a hackney, please?”

She came to stand beside him. “There is no need; my carriage is outside. Please call for my driver.”

Hadley's eyes narrowed. She couldn't bear to see the anger marring his beautiful face, so she swept through the door and waited in the entrance hall for her cloak.

She heard him say, “Please let his lordship know that Lady Evangeline and I have been called away.”

“Certainly, my lord. Will we expect you back this evening?”

They both said no at the same time.

Unable to look at him a moment longer, she did not wait for him to escort her to her town coach. She was just about to step up into the carriage when a strong hand gripped her arm to steady her. Heat burned through her clothes at his touch. She closed her eyes at the familiarity, the feel of Hadley beside her, the vibrant heat of his body, the sweet sensations of his touch, as the erotic memories came flooding back. It had been so long since a man touched her with tenderness….

As she'd thought when she saw him across the room earlier this evening, she still loved him—and hated him in equal measure.

She didn't know if she would ever forgive him for putting her through this and not believing in her—in their love.

She hated that she still wanted him, had longed for his love these past five years. What did that make her, weak? She wasn't weak. She'd survived.

Some things could never be forgiven.

Once he'd handed her into the carriage his touch was gone, and coldness took its place once more. He followed into the carriage and took the seat opposite her.

Their eyes suddenly locked in the dim streetlight filtering in through the carriage window. She knew from the look on his face that he was remembering the last carriage ride they had shared.

On their last journey together, he had pulled her into his arms, reaching down to caress her, stroke her, arouse her. The memory of his lean, elegant hands fondling the swell of her breasts and hiking up her dress to stroke her wetness, fingers seeking her most private place until she moaned his name, made her nipples peak with longing.

For a moment he simply stared at her, his gaze dropping to her breasts, probably noting her reaction.

“Memories are best left in the past, where they no longer have the ability to hurt you,” she whispered into the darkness as the coach rumbled off.

That was a truth she knew well, as she tried to forget the misery of the last five years.

Hadley shifted uneasily in the carriage seat and, finally ashamed of his erection, crossed his legs. His fierce arousal had taken him by surprise. Flashes of memories flooded his mind. He inwardly cursed the hot blood that stirred in his loins. He tried to think of the villainess De Palma instead. Even that didn't work.

He shouldn't have touched Evangeline, when just looking at her stirred a reluctant yet heated response.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

He let anger at her feminine wiles consume him. As soon as they had locked eyes in this carriage he'd seen the blank daze of desire reflected back at him, sensed the subtle softening of her body.

He turned away from her, disgusted at the raw need that ran through him from just one memory. Being alone with her in the seclusion of her carriage was still having a profound effect on his body, and he hated the power she wielded.

She was everything he remembered and more. When she'd entered the drawing room earlier this evening his heart had almost stopped. Her auburn hair shone like polished copper; a few long strands flowed over her shoulders, coming to rest on her ample bosom in a teasing array. The sight of her in a cream gown that displayed every luscious curve to perfection aroused his cravings to a painful ache.

His hands curled against his thighs as his body fought with his mind. Even now he wanted to move to sit beside her and touch her silken skin, trace the outline of her luscious lips with his thumb, slide his arms round her, and bury his head between her full breasts.

Hadley swore under his breath, wishing she'd never returned to torment him. He resented how she had remained just as alluring as his dreams remembered; worse still, she had the power to make him feel so much.

He remembered every look, every taste, every touch, and every promise her lying lips had spoken. He had tried to bury them under the avalanche of her betrayal, deep in his heart where she could never hurt him again, but here he was doing her bidding once again. He would have to proceed with caution if he was to remain unscarred from this encounter.

The only thing to give thanks for was that Evangeline appeared to be agitated by his inner strength. He hadn't rolled over and let her beauty turn him into her lap dog once more. She now viewed him with a tad more respect. He almost laughed when she first began to understand that her womanly wiles would no longer work on him. He was immune to her tears, having cried too many over her betrayal.

He would prove to Evangeline that he was a stronger man than before. He would not succumb to her charms again. He would show her the letter and she could be on her way by morning, back to the wilds of Scotland, where she belonged.

Then I'll never have to see you again,
he was thinking as he stepped out of the carriage. He turned to help her down, but she dropped her muff. He bent to pick it up, and as he did, a shot rang out and a rush of air passed over his head. A gunshot. Instinctively he reached up and pulled Evangeline down to the ground beside him, rolling her under him as he used the wheel for some kind of protection.

Her driver stood and fired down the street at a man fleeing on horseback. Then there was simply silence.

Hadley sprang to his feet and held out his hand to Evangeline. She didn't take it. He looked down and a curse hurtled from his mouth. Blood was spreading over her cream gown. A slight trickle covered her right shoulder. She'd been hit.

Icy fear gripped him and guilt consumed him as he dropped beside her and pulled her into his arms.

He pushed his fear away and picked her up, quickly carrying her into his family's townhouse, calling for Mrs. Booker, the head housekeeper.

Mrs. Booker immediately took charge, arranging for the doctor to be fetched, and Hadley carried her to his room, on the second floor.

He kept thinking about the last thought he'd had about her:
Then I'll never have to see you again.
He looked down at her pale face as he carried her upstairs, and suddenly he didn't want there to be a world without Evangeline in it. She might have stomped on his heart, but she didn't deserve to die from a gunshot he was pretty certain was meant for him.

Their villainess had decided to strike, and he should have known what she would do. Setting up a second son for disgrace and ruin would be pointless; no one would care. Dead did the job just as well.

Just then Evangeline let out a moan and her eyelids fluttered open. “What happened? Why are you carrying me?” she asked. She let out a small cry when she tried to move in his arms.

“Lie still. You've been shot.”

Her eyes widened and her wan cheeks got paler. “Shot? Who? Why?”

“It was meant for me, but when I bent down to collect your muff, the shot must have hit you instead.”

“So it's not just me you have angered recently.”

He chose to ignore her jibe, not wishing to upset her further. Her eyes were struggling to stay open against the pain, and when he tried to lengthen his stride, her hand gripped his arm where it wrapped around her torso, careful to avoid one plump breast.

No sooner had he laid her on his large bed than Mrs. Booker entered with one of the maids.

“Off with you, my lord. We will see to the lady.”

“My name is Lady Evangeline Stuart. You may call me Eva,” she said to Mrs. Booker.

Hadley stood near the bed, not sure what to do. The shot couldn't have been too serious, as the blood was beginning to slow and congeal. He hadn't had a chance to examine the wound, but it was near the top of her right shoulder. He hoped it had not broken any bones and that the bullet was not still in there. According to Sebastian, who had been shot in the buttocks last month, it hurt like the devil to get it out.

His hands itched to tug down the shoulder of the gown to see, but Mrs. Booker would have a fit.

“My lord, the doctor will be here soon, and we need to get her ladyship ready to receive him.”

He looked at Evangeline, but she merely gave him a tight smile. He nodded and retreated. At the door he added, “Please send the doctor to see me the minute he has finished his examination. I'll be in Augustus's study.” Where he intended to drink until the guilt swimming in his veins drowned in alcohol.

He left the door to the study ajar, wanting to hear what was going on. He slumped into a chair by the fire and hugged the decanter of brandy to his body. If he had not brought Evangeline home with him, she would not be lying up there injured; he, however, would likely be dead.

At that exact moment he recognized that the woman who'd once broken his heart had just saved his life. He prayed her injury was not, or did not turn into, anything life-threatening.

That's not the only reason you're upset.
All his posturing tonight was bullshit. The idea of Evangeline dying filled him with sorrow. A depth of loss sank into his soul and hurt just as much as the day he'd received the note telling him she was marrying another.

A note spelling out very clearly that his love alone was not enough.

On that thought, he suddenly realized what bringing her to this house admitted. He'd shown her that she still held power over him.

She knew he'd kept her letter—her letters.

What man keeps the letters of a woman who means nothing to him?

He didn't bother pouring the brandy into a glass; he simply drank it straight from the decanter.

“Drinking until you're drunk won't help Evangeline.”

He lowered the decanter. He hadn't heard Arend arrive.

“How did you hear what happened?”

“I'd ease up on the drink. You have a guest who needs your help.” Arend sank into the chair opposite him. “Evangeline's driver sent a note to Christian's. I came as soon as I heard. What happened?”

He slammed the decanter down on the side table. “That bloody bitch.”

“Let's not treat the brandy so callously.” Arend held out a glass for him to fill. “I assume you are not talking about Evangeline.”

Hadley shook his head. “Bloody De Palma. If I hadn't bent down…That shot was meant for me. Shot in the back. The bitch has no honor.”

“I thought as much; that's why I came. Time has run out, and we have to stop her. I'm tired of being nice, of being cautious when our enemy grows bolder. I'm sure it's bloody Isobel's stepmother, Victoria. Everything about her fits what we have learned about our enemy. No one we spoke to really knows where she came from, but apparently she's from the depths of Wales.”

At Arend's raised eyebrow, he understood what Arend was indicating. How the hell do you check out a person's background when they come from Wales?

Hadley rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes. What a mess. He drew in a deep breath, willing the blood still pumping fast around his body to slow. He'd almost died today.

“It's good to feel alive, isn't it? Or is it that a woman you swore meant nothing to you has you worried sick?”

He threw what he hoped was an indignant look at Arend. “I almost died. That is what I was thinking. Besides, Evangeline has nothing to do with our enemy's plans for the Libertine Scholars. She is innocent in that, at least.”

“According to you, not so innocent. More of a sly, conniving—”

“She's not in the same league as De Palma. Evangeline might be a liar, but she's no killer.”

Arend sat looking at him for a moment before saying softly, “So what are we going to do about De Palma? You and I have run out of time. It's obvious she's getting desperate. Shooting you dead in the middle of the street, in London? Society would not stand for that. Every Bow Street Runner would be employed.”

Hadley's head began to pound. He understood what Arend was hinting at. The two of them should investigate Victoria, Isobel's stepmother. The other Libertine Scholars could deal with the rest of the list.

“Can we discuss this tomorrow? I need to see to Evangeline first. One bloody problem at a time.” He didn't miss the flash of anger passing over Arend's face. “Come back at a decent hour tomorrow and we will work on a strategy. For what it's worth, I agree with you. Lady Victoria is looking a likely candidate.”

Arend sighed but rose from his chair. “Fine. I can wait one more night. Watch your back.”

“It's you who should be careful. I'm home and I've alerted the staff to take turns guarding the house, and I've sent word to employ an army of Bow Street Runners for here and Evangeline's house. You're welcome to stay the night if you wish.”

“You sure you don't want me here simply to stop yourself from doing something stupid with your patient?”

He wished her could knock the smug look off Arend's face, but there might have been a bit of truth in his words.

Arend clapped him on the back. “Breakfast here tomorrow, then.”

“Good night, Arend.”

“I shall leave you to your nursing. I hope you have a better bedside manner than you showed her earlier tonight. Remember, she was shot because of you.”

He rose to walk Arend to the door. “It's not something I'll likely forget. I'm pretty sure she won't let me forget it either.”

Before Arend took his leave he said to Hadley, “I hope Lady Evangeline recovers quickly. It would be safer for her to be in her own house.”

Hadley swallowed down his fear. “Would she? I'm concerned I have pulled her into this debacle. If De Palma thinks she means something to me…”

Arend cursed. “The bitch might use her to lure you out or worse.”

He nodded. “That's what I have been mulling over the past half hour. What do I do with Evangeline?”

“She'd be safer here.”

She would, but he would not. “She can't move in here without repercussions. Neither Augustus nor I is married.”

“It could solve your other problem if she was compromised and you
had
to marry her.”

Claire.
He'd forgotten he was all but engaged, and that Augustus would be upset if Hadley put that alliance in jeopardy.

“I would have to ask my mother to come back to town to act as chaperone, and can you imagine the gossip? The
ton
believe I left Philomena because of her.”

Footsteps sounded above them. Someone was coming down the stairs.

Arend nodded. “I'll send word to Sebastian. His aunt, Lady Alison, might agree to act as chaperone.”

“Good idea. See if she can come first thing in the morning. We'll speak more then. Take one of the Runners with you. Good night.”

With that, Arend left into the dark night. Hadley prayed he would get home in one piece.

He moved to greet the doctor at the bottom of the stairs. The doctor's face was not showing any signs of being overly concerned. Hadley hoped that was good news.

“We'll talk in the study,” he told the doctor, indicating that he should follow.

Once they were seated he offered the doctor a brandy. “There is a chill in the air. It will keep you warm on your way home.”

“Thank you, my lord, most thoughtful.” The doctor took a sip. “Her ladyship was very lucky. The bullet grazed her shoulder. It took a chunk of skin out, though. I needed to administer a few stitches to stop the bleeding, but it's not life-threatening. I've dressed the wound, but it will need changing regularly to lower the risk of infection.”

Hadley let out the breath he'd been holding, his guilt easing slightly. “That is good news.”

“The lady is in robust health, and although she'll have a small scar, there should be no further repercussions.”

Hadley sat in silence listening to the doctor explain exactly what the bullet had done, anger building at the knowledge that she'd taken a bullet meant for him.

“May I enquire how this happened, my lord? I tried to get her ladyship to call for the Runners, but she refused. She said you would deal with the situation.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Shocking that thieves have grown so bold as to shoot a woman in this fine area of London. What is the world coming to? Although I wonder if it was straight thievery.”