Treacherous Temptations(24)

“But I think I will stay in England for a while.” Hadley studied his buffed nails and then took a pinch of snuff. “We had a gentleman’s agreement, did we not? I have a full fortnight remaining and this house suits my needs.”

“You err gravely if you take mine for an idle threat,” Sir Richard growled. “You have been given a reprieve to attend to certain business, after which time, you will either leave the country for good…or find yourself in chains.”

“If I leave,” Hadley replied coolly, “it will be by my own design and certainly not empty-handed, for my prospects are much changed since last we spoke.”

“The devil you say! Are you claiming to have secured the funds?”

“Soon,” Hadley answered with an enigmatic smile. “Very soon.”

The baronet’s eyes narrowed. “And the tower clock is ticking. Speaking of which, I’ve no more time to fritter away.” He turned back to Barbara with a curse. “Damn the chit for wasting half my day. I’ll return tomorrow eve.” He left with the final warning. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

Barbara spun on Hadley the moment the baronet departed “Why the devil did you choose to make an appearance just now when surely you knew he was here? And then you openly defy him? Do you wish to make my life a living hell?”

“Does it really matter now?” Hadley asked. “He already knew I was here. He’s no doubt tracking my every move.”

“By your actions you would ruin everything I have worked for! You know he’ll now move to marry the girl off. Unless…” She tapped her fan against her small white teeth. “You must force his hand. Take her now, Hadley. Ruin her. Then he’ll have no choice but to give her to you.”

“I’ve already told you such methods don’t suit me.” Yet, ironically, he had been very close to throwing her skirts up and taking her in a public garden like some overeager adolescent. Not that he’d ever confess to Barbara that he’d nearly lost his head. “Besides, Sir Richard would still do as he pleased with the girl, for what financially strapped gentleman would pass up a massive fortune over a breached maidenhead? He would merely take the money and then count out the months to be sure she didn’t carry another’s bastard, before planting his own staff.”

Barbara’s forehead puckered. “Then what can we do?”

He rose to pour himself a glass of sherry. “Rest assured all is not lost. Mary is not pleased about an arranged marriage and will be even less so when I have had more time alone with her.”

“But I thought you just said you would not seduce her to gain her fortune.”

“Not in the manner you suggest.” He downed his drink in a gulp. “I shall not take her by force. Neither shall I do this thing by half measures. I will possess her fortune in the same manner I possess her—willingly, obediently, completely.”

“How?”

“She’s half in love already. I’ll simply convince her to elope with me to the Continent—far from Sir Richard’s reach.”

“You would take her abroad?” Barbara laughed. “How do you propose to convince her to go off to foreign places when the girl came to London kicking and screaming?”

“By convincing her she cannot live without me, of course. Never doubt my powers of persuasion where the fair sex is concerned.” He gave a slow confident smile. “I will simply persuade her…in the most tangible way…that the benefits of a marriage to me would be well worth her sacrifice.”

…

With her hair pinned back in place and her gown changed, Mary rushed down to the drawing room to join her guardian for afternoon tea, only to learn that he had just departed.

“Sir Richard was quite vexed with you,” Lady Blanchard scolded.

“I’m sorry it took me longer than intended, my lady, but I had a grass stain from our outing and had to change my gown.” Mary averted her gaze at her half-truth. In reality, she feared her mussed appearance would certainly have betrayed her…and Lord Hadley, to her guardian.

“Well, I suppose you will be seeing him soon enough, for we are to attend Handel’s new opera together at the King’s Theatre the evening after next.”

“The opera?” Mary choked down the knot of dread that formed in her throat. Her only visit to the opera had been when Papa had arranged a box for Handel’s Giulio Cesare, as a special surprise for her sixteenth birthday. The experience now flooded her memory—the crush of bodies overpoweringly scented with perfumes, the abundantly bejeweled ladies in their elegant gowns, the gentlemen with their quizzing glasses and supercilious stares. Mary had been nearly as dumbstruck by the audience as by those on the stage. And the performance was sung in the incomprehensible Italian tongue. For the entire evening, Mary had felt like an outsider looking into another realm in which she had no place.

She now felt a combination of apprehension and resentment at the prospect of being forced upon it again. “Must I attend? I really don’t care for such entertainments.”

“Nonsense, my dear! It is time you go about in society. You must be seen and what better opportunity? The entire polite world will attend, including our own king and queen. You might even be able to see them from our box.”

“But I need more time. I’m not accustomed to London ways.”