Treacherous Temptations(9)

The baronet glared. “You blame me?”

“I know that you helped to perpetrate one of the greatest swindles in our time, a crime so great that it bankrupted thousands. My father, the late Earl of Blanchard, could not have profited from the South Sea Company as you claimed, for he was ruined well before he ever put the pistol in his mouth. But a dead man makes a most convenient scapegoat, doesn’t he?”

“You can prove nothing,” Sir Richard said.

“No. I cannot, for the stock ledgers disappeared the moment there was talk of an investigation, but I know what you did and how you were screened by those who were more powerful and equally guilty. Oh, I confess it took me a while to see it, but lucidity came at last. You profited Sir Richard by entirely fraudulent means, and were handsomely rewarded—at my expense.”

Sir Richard appeared unmoved. “You have no allies to back you here. To create noise now would only make you foes. Very powerful foes. I advise you to quietly return whence you came.”

Hadely ignored the implied threat and picked up an apple, polishing it on his sleeve. “Is that why you have kept me out of the way all these years? In hope I would remain ignorant while you profited? I have already been to the Chancery. I know in whose possession my lands lie. It is you who controls my lands. My birthright.” Hadley pulled a short but meanacing dagger from his boot. He inspected the blade and slanted the baronet a dark look. “I want them back.”

Sir Richard’s eyes bulged. “Impossible. I am only the trustee. They were sold years ago to one Francis Edwardes, Esquire.” He exhaled in an audible gush when Hadley proceeded to peel the apple.

“You will intercede on my behalf,” Hadley insisted. “I want my life back, Sir Richard—the one you stole from me.”

Sir Richard laughed outright. “But my dear boy, you give me no incentive.”

“Incentive?” Hadley ran his thumb along the razored edge of the dagger, watching in fascination as a narrow crimson line appeared. He noted with satisfaction the bobbing motion of Sir Richard’s adam’s apple. He cut a section from the apple and popped it into his mouth, offering the next one to his nemesis.

Sir Richard waved it away, but the tremor of his fleshy hand betrayed his alarm. He took another drink. “Perhaps I could negotiate a sale.”

“So you can profit once more?” Hadley laughed, a grating sound. “And why should that surprise me? First it is impossible, and now all may be purchased?”

“You should know by now, that everything in this world is negotiable…for the right price.”

“And what of my title? What price do you require for that?” Hadley asked, already mentally tabulating the value of his earthly goods, and knowing he had not a fraction of what would be asked.

“I think twenty thousand should suffice for all.” Sir Richard replied with a sly smile.

It was an astronomical sum. “You command far more than it’s worth.”

“Ah! But the value of anything is so very subjective,” Sir Richard argued. “If you wish to reclaim the Earldom of Blanchard, twenty thousand is my price.”

“I would need to secure a mortgage.”

“How the devil do you hope to do that when you have no credit? The very mention of your name would bar any such transaction.”

The dagger in Hadley’s hand stilled. For a brief moment, he fantasized about embedding it in Sir Richard’s gut. He wondered vaguely if the man would squeal like a stuck pig.

The patent alarm in Sir Richard’s eyes said that he’d correctly read Hadley’s thoughts. “You are no threat to me,” Sir Richard blustered. “I can see you installed in the tower like this.” He snapped. “Yet, I am not an unreasonable man. Should you manage to secure the necessary funds, I will see your paternity restored. This offer, however, is not without limitations.”

He emptied his glass and heaved himself to his feet. “I give you a fortnight to produce both the funds and the names of those you have come to meet. Should you fail to meet these conditions, I expect your immediate and permanent departure for Rome.”

“And if I refuse?” Hadley asked.

Sir Richard returned a vindictive smile. “Then you will receive the reward you truly deserve for returning without my permission—I will see you hanged, drawn, and quartered for treason.”





Chapter Six


Blanchard House, Hanover Square

As the solo harpsichord began a Corelli air, Mary watched mesmerized. In flawless synchrony with the music, and with bodies posed in perfect symmetry, the couple performed the intricate figures of the dance with fluid grace—ebbing and flowing in an elegant wave, moving in absolute harmony with one another. Rising and falling in gentle rhythm, arms gracefully rounded, reaching, touching, and turning, they seemingly floated across the floor.

It was lovely beyond description.

Monsieur Gaspar had rightly described the stately minuet as the perfection of dancing and Mary was entranced. But lost in her admiration of the dancers, she forgot she was supposed to be studying their intricate steps and patterns, until the couple executed the final two-hand turn and then faced her with the last elegant dips to honor their audience of one.

The dancing master raised Lady Blanchard’s hand to his lips. “Vous êtes toujours incomparable, Madame la Comtesse.”