Treacherous Temptations(35)

“You swathe yourself in secrets, and yet you expect me to wed you?” She laughed wildly. “I may be simple and unsophisticated but I’m not daft! I can think of no good reason at all to accept you.”

He grasped both of her shoulders and lowered his face to inches from hers. “On the contrary,” His voice softened. “I think you have two very good reasons. Firstly, you don’t wish to marry anyone of your guardian’s choosing. Secondly, you are in love with me.”

Her eyes grew wide and her lips quivered. “How-how dare you presume to know my feelings!”

“Do you deny it?”

Her pupils flared. She spun out of his hold and made a brisk and deliberate retreat across the green. Hadley followed her. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“To find the coach. The hour is advanced and I promised the countess I would not be late.”

“Oh, no you don’t. I am far from finished with you.” He grabbed her arm and swung her back around.

Her eyes flashed as she jerked out of his grasp. “How very disappointing for you then, my lord, for I am most certainly finished with you!”





Chapter Thirteen


Hadley knew he’d bloody well sabotaged himself, but Mary was no fool. He consoled himself that all was not yet lost. He had just given her too much to process at one time, and had made her question her faith in those she thought she could trust. Now he just needed to back off and let her discover the truth for herself. Sir Richard would soon show his true colors. Hadley’s presence had made him over-anxious to see his scheme fulfilled. This would make him play his hand too quickly…and Hadley would be prepared to act when he did.

Bringing Mary to Bushy Park had been a pleasure, but it had also served to screen another purpose, for he had private business to conduct—business that was better managed outside the environs of a metropolis teeming with curious eyes and ears. So, instead of returning with Mary, he exchanged outer garments with his valet, and ordered James into the coach in his stead to protect the two women on the drive back to Hanover Square.

Although he was reasonably certain he hadn’t been followed to Richmond, Hadley was equally sure that Sir Richard was tracking his movements. As a precaution, Hadley donned a dark and shabby cloak over his plain clothes and rode into town on the saddled mount his coachman had left for him at Bushy House. He supped at the Green Lion, where he consumed almost two bottles of cheap wine while exchanging suggestive banter with the saucy serving wench; all while ruminating his next move with Mary…and closely watching the door.

It was growing late before his contact finally arrived. He’d not known precisely who he was meeting, had no name, no description, the correspondence all having been conducted in cipher, but the gentleman who entered the tavern showed all the nervous energy and conspicuity of a rank amateur. Had he been followed, they’d both soon be dead.

Hadley cast a last guarded gaze over the few remaining occupants of the tavern who hovered over their tankards with muffled murmurs and an occasional drunken guffaw. Noting nothing awry, and satisfied that he’d taken all due precaution, he hailed the stranger in the local dialect he’d almost feared lost from disuse. “Ah! You must be Jemmy’s lad at last! I been waitin’ half the night for ye.”

Upon his approach, Hadley discovered to his amazement a lad of no more than twenty summers who looked him up and down with caution. “And you are?”

“Damn me, lad!” Hadley rose and clapped the young man on the back boy. “Don’t ye recognize your dear Uncle Charlie?

“Are you besotted?” came a stiff reply. Although garbed in plain clothes, the youth’s voice and demeanor readily betrayed his aristocratic origins.

“Just sit your arse in the chair,” Hadley hissed. Adopting a drunken leer, he signaled the barmaid to bring another bottle. “Bloody hell,” Hadley cursed through his teeth. “Do you know nothing of the game?”

“This is far from a game. I assure you! There are men willing to risk—”

God save me from incompetent zealots! Hadley shot him an ominous look. “Not here. Not now. Don’t utter another bloody word in this tavern. You’ll have a drink, force a laugh at my lewd jokes, and then you’ll drag your thoroughly foxed ‘Uncle Charlie’ home.”

An hour later, bawling a bawdy drunken tune, with a half empty bottle in one hand and an arm slung around the young man’s shoulders, Hadley staggered from the tavern. Once they’d progressed into the darkness well beyond the stable yard, he suddenly spun on his surprised escort who found himself in a strangle hold with a dagger at his throat.

“Now, my lad. Suppose you tell dear ‘Uncle Charlie’ who the devil you are.”

Hadley’s temporary hostage voiced his choked reply in Italian. “Pray release me sir! I am Henry Hyde, Viscount Cornbury. If you don’t believe me, you need only examine the crest on my ring.”

Hadley responded in the same tongue. “I saw the ring the moment you sat at my table. You should have removed the bloody thing before you ever entered the tavern, you damned fool! You have no idea what danger you court, Cornbury. Are you quite aware of the penalty if either of us is identified?”

“Yes. I am well aware of the risk I take in even making myself known to you, but if you already knew who I am, why do you accost me?”