A Taste of Seduction (9 page)

Evangeline's heart missed a beat. No wonder he was not enraptured to see her; he was about to marry another. It was all the proof she needed to finally understand that Hadley had, of course, moved on. It also proved how she truly felt about Hadley. Sadness engulfed her, and she had to take deep breaths. It didn't matter if she forgave him or not. They were fated to never be together.

Only now would she admit that she'd lied to herself. Her purpose in coming to London had not been to berate Hadley. It had been to get what had been stolen from her—her happily-ever-after with a man who loved her. The father of her son.

“He's getting married?”

“It's not what you think. I'm not sure of the details, as I'm not proud to say I was eavesdropping. I think it's a favor to Augustus. I'm pretty sure Hadley is not in love with Claire. He only gave up his mistress yesterday.”

A fiancée
and
a mistress? Hadley certainly had not been pining for her.

“I'm not the same young girl I was back then, and so I can hardly expect Hadley to be the same man. It would appear he has moved on and forgotten me.”

“Rubbish,” Beatrice said. “I saw his face when you walked into the room last night. I'd never seen a look of such longing, and it was followed by a great deal of fear. He wants to hate you but he can't. The first thing we have to do is find this letter you supposedly wrote and prove it a forgery.”

“Or,” Isobel said, clapping her hands, “we find other proof of your story. Have you been through your husband's papers? Even better, perhaps a staff member will come forward to verify your story.”

Evangeline sat up when she saw all the ladies energized on her behalf. “He'd be wary of staff; they need jobs and would therefore likely lie for me. I could go through my husband's papers, as he kept immaculate journals.”

“I could help you. I'm sure we'll find something in his journals. Perhaps Lord Stuart recanted all his sins.” Enthused, Isobel next asked the question Evangeline was dreading. “What of your mother? She is still alive. Would she help you now?”

Evangeline turned her face away and looked out the window. She hadn't spoken to her mother since her wedding night. She could not bring herself to forgive her. The fact that her mother had sold her made her so angry she was tempted to do violence. She had never been a daughter; she was just property to be bartered. She worried about Edward too. Did their mother control him? Had she gambled away all the money she'd received from selling Evangeline to Dougal?

“I won't go to my mother.”

The coldness and firmness in her tone made it clear to those present that they were not to push the issue.

Beatrice shrugged. “So, then, just your husband's papers, journals, and the forged letter.”

“Where are his papers?” Marisa asked.

“I have all of his papers and journals with me. I want to employ my own man of business to go through all the estate documents. I don't trust anyone who worked for Dougal. I was hoping one of your husbands might recommend someone I could hire. I have to protect my son's inheritance.”

“Maitland would know of a man you could trust.”

“Thank you, Marisa.”

What a wonderful friend Isobel was. Without her she'd never have met these amazingly generous women.

“That's settled, then,” Beatrice said. “I'll send a missive to Portia, and we'll help you search through the journals once you're feeling up to it. I suggest we start there rather than his business papers. Isobel, you will ensure that Sealey is kept entertained yet undiscovered. Hadley will come here. He'll want to ensure you're all right, and of course there is the business of the letter. We can't have him clapping eyes on his son until you've had a chance to learn what's in his heart.”

Evangeline threw back the covers, “Oh, goodness. I sent Sealey to the park with his nanny. If any of the men come here just as Sealey and Wendy are returning…”

Isobel stood and raced for the door. “I'll go to the park and warn Wendy. We'll come in through the back alley and use the servants' entrance.” With that, she disappeared.

Evangeline grimaced with the pain of moving her shoulder. She sank back onto the bed. “Thank you. I'm so lucky you befriended me,” she said to the women who remained.

It was Marisa who spoke first. “No woman should have to go through what you did. If we don't help each other, who else will?”

Evangeline smiled at them both. Such strong, capable women. She wished she had met them before being abducted by Dougal. What a difference these women might have made. They would have come looking for her, she was sure. They would have known that her heart belonged to Hadley and that she'd never have run off with another.

Why hadn't Hadley believed in her?
She kept pushing that devastating question aside, but at some stage she would need to know the answer if she was to ever move on.

She'd never had close friends. Her mother had kept her isolated once she turned fifteen, the year her father died. Perhaps her mother had even then hatched her plan to use her only daughter to save the estate for Edward.

Beatrice rose. “We'll leave you to rest.” As they made their way to the door, she added. “If you're well enough, I'll be back tomorrow with Portia to go through the journals with you.”

“Perfect.” Evangeline hesitated, but soon decided she had to say something. “Hadley and Arend believe De Palma is Victoria, Isobel's stepmother. I wonder if we shouldn't keep anything we find within the journals secret and share it only with the men. If you noticed, Isobel seemed very keen to be involved in perusing the journals.”

Marisa and Beatrice looked at each other, and Marisa cleared her throat. “Isobel was kidnapped with me. She was just as frightened as I was, and could have been as badly hurt as I was. Why would she put herself in that danger? Too, I had my season with her. I cannot believe she is in league with our villainess, and I'm still not convinced her stepmother is involved either.”

“However, it wouldn't hurt to be cautious. Perhaps we should keep what we find just between ourselves and our husbands until we have proof Isobel plays no part in this revenge,” Beatrice suggested, and Marisa nodded her agreement. “Now, I'll send your lady's maid to you. If I know Hadley, he'll call this afternoon. He's probably chomping at the bit to ensure that your injury is not severe.”

“I told him to call at three.”

“You'll want to be looking gorgeous. To unsettle a Libertine Scholar calls for a hint of frailness, coupled with a load of sensuality. I'd lose the plain linen nightgown and wear something sinful.”

Heat flared in Evangeline's cheeks. “I don't think I own anything sinful. I've never needed to.”

Beatrice laughed. “Then I'll send my maid round with some of mine. We look about the same size, or we did before I gave birth. My figure is not what it used to be yet.” She patted her stomach. “Sebastian ordered loads of slinky garments before we found out I was with child. I have many that have never been worn. I can't fit them at the moment anyway. I'd rather see them be put to good use.”

“I'm not sure I want to entice him. If this woman—Claire—is in love with him and he with her, I don't want to cause her heartache.”

Beatrice cocked her head to one side. “Shouldn't Hadley be given the chance to make up his own mind? I doubt he's in love with Claire or she with him. They are never seen together and I've never heard him mention her. A man in love would be by her side constantly, and he certainly would not also have a mistress.”

“Then why would he marry her?”

Marisa said, “You'd best ask him that.”

“Thank you, I will. You're both very kind.”

They both rose to take their leave, kissing her cheek and wishing her luck with Hadley that afternoon.

Once they left she lay back and closed her eyes. She was tired, sore, worried, and—to her dismay—heartbroken. Hadley was to marry. She'd asked about his marital status before instigating a meeting with him, and she'd been told he had a mistress. She had not heard about a woman he wanted to marry.

She needed to prove her innocence and find out just what Hadley's feelings were. Marisa was right. No matter how she felt about Hadley, Sealey deserved to know his father, but could she marry Hadley for her son's sake? She shook her head. She would if he wanted her, and if she could get him to open his heart and let her back in.

She slept for a couple of hours until Rachel woke her. “Lord Fullerton is asking to see you, and Lady Beatrice's parcel has arrived. Shall I help you change first?” Rachel's smile was devilish.

Evangeline's body went hot and cold at once when she spied what Rachel had unwrapped. The scrap, because it was only a scrap, was scandalous. A scarlet lacy silk nightgown that left virtually nothing to the imagination hung from her hand. “I think it will be his lordship who leaves here with a fever,” Rachel said with a giggle.

Evangeline slipped out of bed and made her way to the bathing chamber. “Ensure that Wendy keeps Sealey up in the nursery. He should be napping, but I don't want to risk him coming to find me while Lord Fullerton is here.”

While she bathed, Rachel went to deliver her message. Rachel came back to help her dry and dress in the silken lace. By the time she'd finished, her shoulder was on fire. It hurt to sit up straight while Rachel went to work on her hair.

She'd made Hadley wait for half an hour. Finally Rachel helped her back into her bed, plumping up the pillows and strategically placing her in the bed for the best visual display of her abundant assets.

When Rachel went to inform Lord Fullerton that her ladyship was ready to receive him, Evangeline's stomach clenched in tight knots. The knots pulled tighter as she heard his heavy-booted feet walk along the corridor toward her room.

She sat up straighter, unease sliding over her skin. Was she doing the right thing trying to win back a love that might not have been there in the first place? She squared her shoulders and pushed up her bosom.

Only one way to find out.

Modesty made her ensure that the bodice of the lace garment she wore covered at least her nipples, and she pinched her cheeks to add some much-needed color. She was beginning to feel a tad light-headed.

She heard him stop before her door. He knocked, and she called for him to enter.

Hadley strode in as if he were going into battle, but stopped dead in his tracks halfway to her bed. His eyes flared with heat, and his mouth gaped open. She couldn't help the smile that skipped over her lips.

She indicated the chair next to her bed, but his eyes were feasting on her breasts. “Please, take a seat.”

One look—that was all it took for his body to betray his mind.

Evangeline lay in bed like a succulent feast. For a man facing his first and only love, it wasn't a good thing for his body to roar to life.

Hadley had given himself a stern talking-to as he walked round the block to Evangeline's house. But now the message to ignore her beauty fled under a burgeoning mixture of want, need, and desire. His mouth began to water at the sight of the luscious mounds of pale flesh barely contained in scarlet lace. Christ, she was injured—he could see the bandage covering the wound in her shoulder—yet he didn't care. He wanted to stride to the bed and bury his head between her breasts while his hands ran over that delicious soft skin to tweak the peaked nipples poking through the negligee.

He heard her speak, but couldn't for the life of him contemplate what she said.

He felt himself harden and blood pounded in his temples. God, she was beautiful, and it struck him that he had made a terrible decision to forgo his mistress just as Evangeline arrived in town. He had nothing but his hand to relieve his need. He was liable to give himself blisters trying to sate the desire this vision ignited. And his memory was too keen. He remembered every luscious detail of her warm body under his.

He finally got his body to obey and raised his eyes to stare at her perfect face. He was just managing to contain himself when he watched her pink, wet tongue slide over her bottom lip. He let out an audible groan, and her smile widened. It was a cat-got-the-cream type of smile.

“Please sit before you fall down. Your tongue is almost hitting my floor.”

Heat rose in his face at her mockery. It dampened his desire just enough to let him approach the bed.

“Perhaps you should have worn a robe, but then I suspect this is the exact reaction you were aiming for.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I wanted to see if you at least still desired me.” She looked at his groin. “It would seem you do.”

He couldn't deny it. He was ramrod hard.

He nodded toward her shoulder. “It would appear the wound is not grievous. You look remarkably well.” He would keep this conversation polite and short. He needed to see those journals, true, but most of all he longed to learn the truth of Evangeline's disappearance five years ago. Was she playing him or, God forbid, was she telling the truth?

She rolled onto her side and leaned forward, causing one dark nipple to appear over the ruffle of lace at her bodice. He crossed his legs.

“Did you bring the letter?”

He started at her question. “Yes. I also came to see how you are faring.”

“You came to appease your guilty conscience” came the tart reply, “and to get your hands on the journals.”

It was the truth. He shifted in his chair.

“If anyone should have a guilty conscience, it's you.” The words slipped out before he could think. He shouldn't have said it, because he'd begun to suspect he'd made a fatal error five years ago. But it was hard to remember his own name with her magnificent breasts in his face.

A twinge of anger appeared on her features. “I'm going to prove that the story I told you was true, and when I do, you will be on your knees begging me to forgive you.” She lay back on her pillow and turned her face from him. “The man I fell in love with all those years ago would have believed me.”