A Whisper of Desire (28 page)

Authors: Bronwen Evans

Serena sent Hadley a cheeky smile, “Guests, Arend. Isobel is bringing a friend.”

The way she looked at Hadley, he wished he could squirm in his chair, but he was too afraid to move in case it collapsed.

Why did his cravat suddenly feel too tight?

Arend sent her a quizzing look, but merely continued. “I have only two names left on my list: Earl of Northumberland and the Earl of Wentworth.”

Last month the Libertine Scholars learned that the woman who was set upon destroying them had worked as a high-priced courtesan in Paris. Apparently, it was yet to be truly verified, but it was the only lead they had; she had caught the fancy of an English earl. It was rumored she'd left the life of prostitution, hidden her tracks well, and left France with her earl to return to England as a woman of quality he'd meet on the Continent. They had no idea if she was still with the earl or if he married her, but they thought she'd hardly leave for anything less than marriage, and they had no other leads.

They had drawn up a list of more than one hundred English earls and whittled it down to sixty who had wives in their midtwenties, the age they thought their enemy now was.

Over the past month, the men had been investigating all the names on the list.

The other five Libertine Scholars shared the names on their lists. The women chimed in with comments, and with their help a further five earls were struck off the list when it became known their wives were at finishing school with Beatrice, who was of a similar age to their villain.

“That still leaves twelve names,” Maitland said. “I was hoping it would be fewer.”

Arend leaned sideways and helped himself to the decanter of brandy on the side table. “My money is still on the Earl of Northumberland's widow, Lady Isobel's stepmother.”

“You simply want it to be her because Lady Isobel vexes you so,” uttered Sebastian. “You want her to be in league with the villain so you can walk away with a clear conscience.”

All five ladies present swung their gaze to Arend. Hadley inwardly laughed. If they smelt the start of a romance, God help Arend. Hadley was pleased not to be the center of their attention for once.

“Clear conscience? I don't have a conscience” was Arend's dry reply. “You tell me, then, why Isobel was kidnapped along with Marisa. It doesn't make sense. There has to be a connection.”

Last month, Marisa had been drugged and kidnapped by their villainess. They managed to rescue her only when the carriage they were abducting her in crashed. Unfortunately, Marisa was very badly wounded and Maitland almost lost her. Isobel was also in the carriage, but she had been kidnapped from a different location.

“Perhaps the villain had other plans for Isobel. Perhaps she was taken to extract revenge on another individual.”

Arend scoffed. “Her father is dead, so whoâ”

“She is his only child. Perhaps it was to wipe his lineage from this earth. Something she has savored doing to my husband.”

Marisa's quiet but venom-filled words hung in the air. Marisa's wounds meant she could never have children. Maitland, sitting beside her, took Marisa's hand and pressed it to his lips. “But I still have you,” he declared softly.

Hadley turned away from the private moment so filled with love and devotion. Once he thought he'd shared this with Evangeline, but he'd been a fool. He swallowed hard. He hoped that one day he'd be able to put the bitterness behind him and find a woman deserving of his love and devotion. He envied what these men had found with their wives.

Portia played with a string of pearls around her neck. “I think it's time we women took the lead. Now that we have a smaller list,
we
should be investigating the wives, not the husbands.”

Hadley returned his gaze to the ladies.

“I agree, Portia. This needs a woman's touch. If the Libertine Scholars, the supposedly happily married Libertine Scholars, start asking questions about other men's wives, who knows what gossip will ensue.” Beatrice continued smoothly. “And we don't wish our villainess to understand just how close we may be.”

The men all started talking at once, the husbands proclaiming how dangerous it was to let the women become so involved, while Arend argued that it made perfect sense.

Hadley understood both sides. After everything that had happened, these men would lay down their lives to protect their women. It was inborn instinct to guard them from harm, much more than simple male pride. Although, he had to agree that Arend's argument regarding catching the villain quickly would thereby protect everyone was valid.

He remained silent, waiting for a chance to offer an opinion.

His chance came after one heated barb from Sebastian. He cleared his throat and spoke rather loudly. “I understand you wish to protect your wives, but there are others who need protection too.” He smiled across the room. “Helen, for one, and what about the children?” The men quieted and looked at him. “We are spread too thin to be sure everyone is safe all the time. We have no idea what she plans to do next. I, for one, don't want to find out.” He nodded at Arend. “I believe Arend is correct when he says we are running out of time and that we need to unmask her sooner rather than later. We may find that it is more expedient to let the women”âhe held up his hand against the growls already sounding in the men's throatsâ“well-guarded women, do a little investigating of their own.”

Portia clapped her hands. “Exactly, Hadley. Well said. You know how skilled each of us can be at uncovering secrets. We uncovered all of yours.” The twinkle in her eyes was all for Grayson.

“And safe, if we conduct the inquisition, so to speak, in one place, with all of the men around us,” Marisa added.

Hadley let a smile of appreciation escape. “You have a plan, Duchess.”

“As it happens, I believe I do. We have twelve earls on our list. I propose that we hold four different house parties, one at a time, at each of our country estates, and invite three of the earls on the list, along with other guests to each one. Then we can observe and question the wives with the men round us.”

Beatrice nodded. “I agree. If you look at the list, we can form groups of guests that would not raise any eyebrows when we extend an invitation.”

Before anyone could reply, there was a knock on the door and the additional guests were announced.

“Excuse me, my lord: Lady Isobel Thompson and Lady Evangeline Stuart,” the butler announced.

Hadley's head snapped round in the direction of the door as if a magic, invisible rope was pulling him. He barely noticed Isobel's entrance, as his gaze was riveted on the tumble of auburn curls piled in an elegant array atop a head he thought he would never want to see again. His mouth dried and his heart pounded.

If he were not under a spell, he would have looked away, but his eyes traveled down, soaking in the beauty of features so fine, so perfect, they made a man think of angels. Eyes the color of a clear summer sky searched the room until they found him. A smile hovered over her succulent lips and a look of such longing entered those traitorous eyes that he almost believed the message they tried to convey.

I'm here for you, my love.

Never a fool for a second time, he could not bring himself to believe anything those eyes or lips conveyed. He'd believed once before and it had left a hole in his chest where his heart once rested.

Summoning the anger churning deep in his innards, he broke the spell and turned away, but as he did so his grip on the edge of the little chair must have been too tight, for in the next second the chair splintered to pieces under him, and he fell with a thud to the floor on his arse, with laughter ringing in his ears.