Cloaked in Danger (6 page)

“And we will. I shan’t be long.” She attempted to move out, but his hand held firm. A coil of irritation sprung inside of her. “Mr. Wade, I will be back shortly.”

Though it was clear he had no wish to do so, he let her go. Without a backward glance, she waved a goodbye and grasped hold of Lady Beasley’s arm to pull her up.

“Where are we going, dear?” The lady followed like a happy, docile lamb.

“To walk along the promenade, Lady Beasley.”

“Oh quite lovely!” With that, she did a sharp turn to the right and headed in the wrong direction.

Lady Ashton’s shoulders shook with silent mirth. “Is she always so...”

“Sauced?” Aria quirked a brow. “In the cups? Or in her case, I should say bottles.”

They resumed their direction out toward the pebbled walkway. Aria kept an eye for Lords Turleton or Barrymore, hoping they’d intersect. Or did it have to be a gentleman who provided introductions? In fact, she’d introduced Mr. Wade. Had that been wrong? Lady Merewood was too nice to say if it was.

Blasted rules. How
anyone
managed a season without blundering her way to a ruined reputation, she would never understand.

“Mr. Wade is quite handsome,” Lady Ashton said as they strolled along the wide pathways between the long columns of trees.

“Yes, he is.” A corner of Aria’s mouth quirked. She’d known Lady Ashton for a blink of an eye, but already she could sense a matchmaker in the making.

At that, Blythe’s hopeful expression deflated. “Are you quite fond of him?”

Not at that particular moment. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She unlinked her hand and twisted about, looking to and fro. “Where is that knave, anyhow?” she muttered.

“We are expected to meet a knave on our walk? How exciting. Is it the duke?” Aria teased.

“No, he should arrive shortly. Our daughter was complaining a bit of a stomach ache this afternoon, so he said he would meet me here.”

“Daughter?” Aria echoed, startled.

Lady Ashton laughed. “My soon-to-be stepdaughter, Bethie. And I think she snuck too many sweets.”

“And who do you think she learned that from?” The deep voice belonged to Lord Merewood, who approached them with a long gait and determined set to his shoulders.

“Adam! How lovely. Would you care to join our walk?”

“Since you suggested I do that, not ten minutes ago?” He headed in their direction with long strides. “Miss Whitney.”

“Lord Merewood.” He was not happy to see her, and yet she felt this crisp energy flowing through her all of a sudden. Along with an inexplicable desire to annoy him. She turned to Lady Ashton. “Shall we go see if His Grace has arrived?” From the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Merewood bristle.

“He’ll find me. Let’s walk.” She grabbed Aria’s arm and threaded her own through it. She turned to lead Aria down the wide walkway, and Lord Merewood stepped in line next to Aria. Within moments, they fell into step. Even as he glanced at her with eyes slit into half moons, Aria wondered what he would do if she laced her fingers through his

“Lady Ashton, how did you meet His Grace?” Aria asked the other woman. “You mentioned a scandal the other night, and I envision a great tale.”

“Please call me Blythe. I am not for formality. And I was married to Ravensdale’s cousin, Thomas—although at that time, I hadn’t known Thomas had a cousin, much less a duke.”

“Blythe.” Lord Merewood’s low growl was some sort of warning.

Blythe shot him a sideways glance. “I am not telling anything Miss Whitney—”

“Aria, please.”

“—Aria would not hear in idle gossip.” The admonishment was light, but with a backbone of steel through it. “In any case, Michael came to my home a few months back to pay his respects to his cousin’s widow.” She shook her head. “Thomas had stolen money from a number of lords, and Michael had the ridiculous notion that I had something to do with it. Of course, I corrected that.”

“That must have been quite a shock.” Aria aimed for a casual response, but her heart sped up. “And when was this?”

“Oh, he appeared on my doorstep a few months back, in March I believe, with all the innate arrogance of a duke. Such a devastatingly handsome visage,” Blythe recalled with a sigh. “I was done for.”

Lord Merewood muttered something under his breath and shook his head.

But Aria zeroed in on the time frame. If Ravensdale had been with Blythe in March, then he...

It wasn’t Ravensdale. He wasn’t involved.

Relief slackened the tension in her body, and Aria’s step faltered. Since she still held on to Blythe’s arm, it yanked Blythe back. Lord Merewood immediately placed a hand at both their backs, which brought him closer to Aria. Blythe laughed and smacked a hand on Lord Merewood’s arm to steady herself.

“Aria, are you all right?”

Aria gave her a smile, and guilt smashed into her with the force of a runaway carriage. “I stumbled, that is all.”

She didn’t want Blythe and her duke to be involved in her father’s disappearance. She was happy they weren’t. How did that even matter? How did anything matter but finding her father? This wasn’t about her, or them, or Patrick. It was about her father.

“In any case, it wasn’t long after Michael appeared that—

“Blythe, I do believe we should turn back now.” Adam stepped forward, his hand on Blythe’s arm. “We are venturing into the darker lanes now, and Miss Whitney might have injured herself.”

Aria looked up at him. “I am fine.”

“Nonetheless.” His brisk, do-not-argue-with-me tone raised her temper and she stood taller, squared her shoulders.

“I am perfectly content walking with—”

“Lady Ashton!”

“Mary,” Lady Ashton said, walking urgently toward the young woman trotting over. “What are you doing here? What is wrong?”

“It is Miss Bethie, my lady. She’s sick and askin’ for you. His Grace sent me to find you.”

“I am glad you did.” She looked at Adam. “Please forgive me for abandoning you so soon. I thought we’d get at least an hour. But my angel needs me.”

Lord Merewood coughed. “An angel? Perhaps with her halo askew.”

Blythe stuck her chin up. “She is spirited, yes. But she has a good heart, and she adores her father.”

Aria’s heart tugged a bit at the obvious affection. “You love her very much.”

“I’m as honored to become her mother as I am to become Michael’s wife.”

Pain touched Aria with a surprising pinch. Blythe’s love for her stepdaughter was palpable. And at this point, Aria did not expect any sort of companionable relationship with her stepmother, much less one that breathed such open affection. They were too close in age, or too different.

Or if Aria was blunt with herself, perhaps she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone replacing the cherished few memories she held of her mother.

She gave her head an abrupt shake. Becoming melancholy over the past wouldn’t bring her mother back, and it certainly wouldn’t help her find the man who could bring her father home.

“Lord Merewood,” she said suddenly, interrupting the talk between the siblings. “How has the season progressed for you? Have you enjoyed it thus far?”

Both Blythe and Lord Merewood turned their heads, matching looks of odd surprise on their faces.

Yes, her question had come out of the fog, with no relation to anything whatsoever.

“Well, on that note,” Blythe said with a wry smile, “I must be going. Adam, perhaps you might keep Miss Whitney company?”

“Yes, might you?” This time, Aria would not waste the opportunity.

With a wave of goodbye, Blythe hurried off with the servant close at her side.

Immediately, he turned his head toward her, even though his body was poised for flight in the opposite direction. “I want to know what you think you’re doing.”

“It is called strolling the promenade. You should try it.”

“I want you to stay away from my sister.” He placed his hand under her elbow.

“I like your sister. I foresee us becoming friends. And furthermore, you have no right to dictate to me, Lord Merewood.”

“I will do whatever is necessary to keep my family from getting hurt.”

“She invited me on this stroll. Which is truly neither here nor there, since I will speak with whomever I wish.” She placed her hand over his with a gentle caress of her fingers. “Perhaps you would care to show me those darker walkways you mentioned?”

“I think not.”

She pulled her arm free, though the warmth of his hand lingered on her skin. “A pity the duke was not here this evening, then,” she said with a tinge of regret, as if she mourned the potential loss.

“Why? Why would you want any sort of friendship with my sister while blatantly pursuing her betrothed? Are you that reprehensible?”

“I can assure you, Ravensdale is not the man I’m looking for.”

Chapter Six

Adam drew back slightly. What the hell did she mean by that?

“Then...what? Why were you in his rooms? In his study?”

“We all have our secrets, Lord Merewood. I will share if you will. Secrets are meant to be shared, don’t you agree?” She glanced toward the sharp turn in the path ahead, her intent clear. She wanted to be led into the dark. She wanted...

God, he wouldn’t think straight if he considered what she might be offering.

What secret did she have that involved Ravensdale? And why was she studying Adam? Even worse, did that please him?

“I won’t let you hurt my family.”

“So your secrets involve your family?” She stepped toward him, invading his space,

He stepped back, though it galled him. “Compromising situations may be your modus operandi, but do not attempt that with me. Or my sister’s fiancé.”

“I am not trying to trap a husband,” she snapped.

“Then you truly are an Original. Ariadne Whitney, the Mythological Woman Not in Search of a Husband.”

“I did not say I wasn’t looking for one,” she corrected suddenly. “But I have no intention of trapping a husband.”

She cocked her head and reached up to twirl a piece of stray hair, which Adam—idiot that he was—couldn’t help but focus on. Even though he’d reminded himself at least a dozen times a day that she was trouble, that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about how soft she’d felt lying underneath him. It hadn’t stopped the instantaneous response of his body. And damn it, he needed to stop thinking in this direction. He needed something to divert him from her incredibly kissable mouth, currently drawn in a thin, angry line.

Husband. Marriage-minded. Trap.

Yet it didn’t add up.

Most husband hunters guarded their reputation with zealous intent. One misstep on Aria’s part could destroy any chance she had of finding a titled husband, yet she treated her reputation with no more care than a fleck of lint on her skirt.

And the men she’d seemed most interested in thus far were far from interested in marrying a debutante.

Did she just need a challenge?

“What are you after?” He didn’t bother to hide his confusion.

If he took her at face value, she was as shallow as she appeared. But something hid behind her focused attention, underneath the tense way she held herself.

There was desperation there.

“Were you there when Blythe and the duke met in March? Were you at her home in the country?”

Alarm clanged in Adam’s head. This was not a random question, a simple curiosity. Miss Whitney’s entire body was coiled, near sprung and ready for battle. Her eyes were wide and fierce.

A pursuit of Ravensdale. Befriending Blythe.

A strong curiosity about Blythe’s past with her first husband.

Dread pooled in his belly and gurgled up into his throat. The nightmare was over. They had buried the man. The past was the past, and he was going to keep it that way.

He had to shut this down. Whether she had deeper purposes or was avidly gaining information to use to trap someone in his family into marriage, he needed to keep this woman away from the people he cared about.

He looked toward the supper boxes. “If I’m not mistaken, I saw you come in with someone. I’ll escort you back to him. And I advise that this be the last time you interact with anyone in my family.”

“Blythe said the duke was at her house. Were you there?”

“Miss Whitney, I am offering a friendly warning.”

“This is friendly? I should hate to see your bad side, then.”

“Take my advice to heart, or you will tarnish your reputation and your father’s as well.”

“My father?” She stepped back, startled. “What do you know about my father?”

“Your father’s work depends on benefactors. I know. I am one, and I’m well acquainted with many others. I would be quite displeased to see my investments damaged by your ambition and the ruination of your reputation.” He didn’t give a whit about that, but mention of her father had charged the air surrounding them. He’d hit a trigger. “Be that as it may, I will be sure that your attempts at trapping a husband come to very public, scandalous light.”

“And that is your mistake. I do not care a whit for my reputation.” The words were tossed like a challenge.

The area around them suddenly filled with people strolling along. He stepped back, cursing himself for his stupidity. They were in public, and if her goal had been to make a scene, he had played into her hands perfectly.

But damn it, he didn’t know what her goal was. Nothing about her made a lick of sense.

“Good day, Miss Whitney.” Disgusted with himself, he turned to walk away.

She closed the distance between them and lightly smacked a hand against his chest, curling her fingers on the lapels of his coat. The volume of whispers and twitters about them grew at the scandalous move, and Adam could feel the noose tightening about his neck. He jumped away from her heated touch.

“Tell me about my father.”

The question was so out of the blue, he reared his head back. “What?”

“My father. Your business with him. Tell me. Now.” Her pleas were spoken through clenched teeth.

“What would be the point now?” he asked.

For whatever reason, that stunned her into silence. Adam took advantage and walked away, casually, as though nothing had happened. But his blood heated his skin, and his head had begun to pound.

A large, dark-haired man passed by, his scowl directed at Adam. A sharp pang hit him in the chest. Was that the man she had arrived with? What did he mean to her?

Not that it mattered.

In fact, Adam wished him all the luck in the world. He would need it. For himself, he made a vow. He would stay far away from Miss Whitney. It didn’t matter if she was merely hunting him for marriage or hunting his family for some sort of revenge. She was unpredictable and dangerous.

The fact that he battled the desire to turn around and kiss her senseless only added to his resolve.

* * *

Aria’s limbs had frozen.

The man who knew something about her father’s disappearance walked away, and she couldn’t move. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw stones.

She wanted to kill him.

What would be the point now?

He’d blatantly thrown that in her face, after telling her of his business connection with her father.

Lord Merewood had all but confirmed his involvement.

The crush of disappointment horrified her. She had hoped he wouldn’t be, not only for the sake of her burgeoning friendship with Lady Ashton. But because when he was in the room, she felt more alive, more aware than she could recall ever feeling. Because, somewhere deep inside her stupid, stupid heart, she had hoped this dance they had begun would continue.

Now she knew he’d played a part in her family’s destruction.

But it remained obvious he was not going to give up answers without a fight. So she would fight. She took a step to hurry after him.

“Aria?”

Speaking of war. She marshaled her reserves and sucked in a deep breath, before turning about. “Patrick. There you are.”

A scowl was set deeply in his face. “Here I am? I had to come searching for you, and I find you arguing with another man? Who was that?”

“Lord Merewood. He is Lady Ashton’s brother, and she had to run off unexpectedly. We were simply exchanging pleasantries.” She worked to control her uneven breath.

“That did not look pleasant.” He didn’t stop as he approached, but wrapped his hand around her elbow to propel her along with him. “It looked rather serious. What is going on here? Who is that man to you?”

Patrick’s grip was surprisingly firm. The sounds of the orchestra began to fill the air, but they were not headed toward a better view.

“Mr. Wade...” she started, but he didn’t stop. A prickle of guilt filled her. He was angry, and he had reason to be. She had abandoned him and then made a spectacle of herself, after assuring him that she had no designs on that world.

And it was time to let him know her intentions. The few minutes she’d spent in Lord Merewood’s company had sparked far more fire inside of her than Patrick had in months.

“Patrick,” she said softly. They veered off the main path and passed right by a gas-lit pond into one of the lesser-traveled, dimly lit directions. These were frequent hiding spots for lovers, and it struck her that he might have a specific intent.

Lovers’ Lane had always fascinated her, but mostly because she wanted to know what it felt like to be so overcome by passion, one would be willing to risk discovery for a kiss.

But not here. Not with him.

They stopped. Shadows melded with tree-shaded moonlight.

“Ariadne.” He let go of her arm and stood with hands at his sides, in control. Still as a rock, in fact. “I believe I’ve made my intentions very clear. I’ve accompanied you on several outings. I have come to call upon you whenever possible. I have shared meals with your family. I do not believe I’ve been mysterious in any way.”

A wave of prickly discomfort washed through her. “I—”

“No, let me finish. I had hoped to wait until your father returned from his trip, but I am starting to wonder if that is wise. I care for you greatly, Aria.” He stepped a small bit closer. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “So full of life. You’re perfect.”

She choked on a laugh. “I am far from perfect. As you well know each time I have trod upon your foot when we dance.”

His fingers grasped a curl against her ear, rolling it until it wrapped around one finger. “You are perfect for me. I want you to be my wife.”

Aria caught her breath, waiting for...something. She should be bursting with joy, with anticipation. Even an inkling of the tangible emotion she remembered between her parents.

But she felt nothing. “I care about you very much. But—”

“Something is wrong, I can tell.” He placed his hands on her upper arms. “You haven’t been acting yourself for months now. Getting involved with these people, attending parties you have never concerned yourself with. I’m worried about you. Marry me—let me protect you. Let me keep you safe.”

Keep her safe? She shook her head. “I don’t need protecting. And I can’t marry you.”

There. She’d said it.

His hands curled around her back and pulled her to him, and before she could say a word, he pressed his lips against hers.

She let it happen. Maybe it would spark something new, something she hadn’t felt before. She pressed her lips harder against his, wishing for one swirl of passion. His mouth slashed across hers, but other than the warmth of his lips, no other sensations arose.

She wished it was Lord Merewood. And that only made her angry, sad.

Finally, he pulled back and stared intently. “We’re good together.”

“My father hasn’t returned, and I couldn’t agree to anything without him here, but it’s not even about that. I cannot marry you. I don’t love you that way,” she said as gently as she could. The words were harsh anyway.

“You will. You need me. And I need you. You’ll see that eventually.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

He patted her arm. “When your father returns, we’ll talk about this again.”

She opened her mouth to tell him the truth about her father, but the words refused to form. The invisible wall inside had grown to proportions rivaling the Great Wall of China. No matter how she tried, how she thought of the words, so simple, so exact—my father is missing—she couldn’t force them out.

“It won’t matter,” she finally said. “It isn’t about him. This is about you and me. I care about you, but—”

He put a finger to her mouth. “Shh. This is obviously not the right time, so I will wait.”

“Waiting won’t change anything,” she emphasized.

But he paid her little heed. They made it back to the well-lit portions of the gardens, and in minutes, people swirled about them. She brought the subject up as they rode back to her home. He patted her hand and said they’d speak on it later.

How could you convince someone you weren’t going to marry him when he refused to listen?