TemptedByHisKiss (17 page)

“Let me go, you idiots!” he demanded, but the men who had pulled him off Everett kept a grip on him. “You don’t know what you’re doing. That man is a traitor and a spy, and he should be arrested for his crimes.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, Byron?” one of the gentlemen in the crowd said. “Don’t you know who he is? That’s Lord Everett.”

“Le Renard, you mean,” Cade spat, watching the other man for signs of guilt.

There were none, as Everett brushed aside further aid, moving to shrug his coat back into place. With a wince, he tugged at his disheveled cravat as well.

“Whatever name he uses,” Cade continued, “he’s a blackguard and he knows it. Because of him, countless men have died. And women, too.”

“What are you saying, Byron?” another man asked. “He’s saved dozen of lives.”

“When he wasn’t betraying others, you mean.”

“Infamy! What proof have you of your accusations?”

What proof? Cade thought. Just the knowledge of my own experience. My own torment.

“You have dishonored Lord Everett and should be called out for this,” another man stated. “Choose your seconds, Byron. I shall stand at Everett’s side.”

“I don’t need seconds,” Cade replied. “Let go of me and I’ll take care of him myself.”

“Yes,” Everett said with calm authority. “Let him go. Clearly, he is confused.”

Cade scowled, a murmur spreading through the crowd.

“Confused how?” someone asked.

“Obviously he believes what he says,” Lord Everett explained. “He thinks that I am this…who did you say…Le Renard?”

“You
are
Le Renard,” Cade stated, finally shaking off the restraint of the men around him. As he did, he noticed Meg watching him, pale brows furrowed, blue gaze troubled.

Everett nodded with apparent sympathy. “Is that the Frenchie who tortured you? Who is responsible for your injuries? I’ve heard they are quite severe.”

Cade ground his teeth together. “You should know, since you were there.”

Everett gave him a pitying look. “I’ve been on the front lines, seen battles and the carnage they leave in their wake. I know how easy it is for a man’s mind to play tricks on him during wartime. Clearly yours is playing one on you tonight.”

“That or drink,” someone quipped, eliciting a ripple of nervous laughter.

Cade saw that Meg did not join in, that in fact her expression grew even more concerned. He glanced away and saw other looks, ranging from anger and outrage, to dismay, uncertainty, and even pity. Clearly they believed Everett and saw him as in the wrong; befuddled, deluded, and yes, unstable.

“Don’t listen to him!” Cade said. “This man is a clever snake, a French agent who has worked hard to convince the highest levels of command that he is trustworthy. He is a master of deception and he is deceiving you all.”

“A French agent! What absurdity,” one of the gentlemen said.

“You expect us to believe that the hero of Corunna is a fraud?” another questioned. “That Everett has concealed his true nature, lying to his men and his fellow officers? And what of Wellesley? I suppose you think he has been duped as well?”

Cade paused. He had immense respect for Arthur Wellesley, but all men, even great ones, could be fooled on occasion. “Yes. That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

Hisses went through the crowd. Everett shook his head, as if to say Cade was a sad case indeed.

“If Lord Everett won’t claim satisfaction,” declared one of the men, “then I will.”

Everett held up a hand. “No. There will be no duel. After all, it would be unworthy to fight a man who was once a brave soldier himself. Obviously, he is mistaken and has lost his way. With time, I am sure his reason will return. Now, why do we not resume the festivities?”

Willpower alone kept Cade from reaching for Everett again, his hands fisted at his sides. As he struggled against his compulsion, Everett turned his back in ca
sual dismissal. Before he did, however, Cade caught the glimmer of triumph in the man’s eyes.

Le Renard had won again.

Cade knew he had no choice but to withdraw. Retrieving his cane from the floor, he limped forward. People stepped aside, granting him a wide berth. Still, he wasn’t entirely done. As he passed Everett, he deliberately nudged the other man’s shoulder and leaned in. “This isn’t over,” he said in a voice only Everett could hear.

The other man returned his gaze, the faintest of smiles on his mouth as Cade left the ballroom.

“W
hat in the devil were you thinking, attacking Everett like that last night?” Edward asked Cade as they sat in the duke’s study the following afternoon. Jack and Drake, who had stopped by for nuncheon, had joined them, and were lounging in nearby chairs.

“Were you foxed?” Edward demanded.

“
No
. Not unless you consider a glass of Madeira and a cup of coffee cause for inebriation.”

“So you weren’t drunk. What, then?”

Cade stared at his boots. “If you must know, I just reacted. The moment I heard that bastard’s voice and realized who he was…” His fingers squeezed into a fist against his pantaloon clad thigh. “…I wanted to kill him.”

“Yes, well, I can understand the impulse, but you might have chosen a more private location than a crowded ballroom to attempt murder. The papers are
full of nothing else, while the tale is on the lips of every tongue-wagging scandalmonger for a hundred miles ’round.”

“Two hundred, I should imagine,” Jack remarked. “You know how fast word travels in the ton.”

“Thank you for that sage observation,” Edward said, his tone rife with sarcasm.

Jack sent him an unrepentant look, his azure eyes twinkling as he tossed back a mouthful of brandy.

By no means finished with his lecture, Edward returned his attention to Cade. “Were it not for Mama, Mallory, and your fiancée, I wouldn’t give a damn if you had strangled him right there in front of everyone. As it is, the ladies are going to have a deuced difficult time showing their faces in public, at least for the immediate future.”

Cade scowled, not liking the notion that his actions might have had an adverse impact on three of the most important women in his life. “I didn’t think—”

“Yes. So we’ve established.” Edward sighed and rubbed a thumb over the square-cut emerald in his signet ring. “There’s already talk at court, you know, about having you banned. Apparently, Prinny is furious. I understand you’ve cast a pall over his upcoming medal ceremony for Everett.”

Cade curled his lip. “Prinny is a bloated fool who cares more about the cut of his coat and his next fete at Carlton House than he does about the welfare of the nation.”

Drake coughed into his hand, while Jack let out a quiet guffaw.

“Yes, well, be that as it may,” the duke observed. “That ‘fool’ could have you thrown in the Tower, or
worse, sent to Bedlam. And you’d do well to keep your opinions to yourself on such matters, unless you wish to be accused of treason in addition to attempted murder.”

Cade thrust out his jaw. “He can try. Let him do his worst.”

“Gratefully, the situation has not reached such dire proportions. Nor, I trust, will it ever. As for Lord Everett, I am equally grateful that he has decided not to press charges against you with the House of Lords or in the courts.”

“Charges!” Cade reared up in his seat. “On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that you tried to strangle him in front of five hundred witnesses!”

Cade pounded his fist against the padded arm of his chair. “He’s the one who should be up on charges. Blackhearted traitor. Villainous turncoat.”

A pronounced silence followed before Edward spoke again, his words quiet and thoughtful. “You are certain it is he? Le Renard?”

Cade fixed his gaze on Edward. “Unquestionably. His is a voice I shall never forget.”

Edward nodded, then set his bridged fingers beneath his chin. “Interesting. This sheds an entirely new light on certain matters.”

“What matters?” Cade knew Edward worked on occasion for the government, but in what capacity, even he wasn’t certain.

“Nothing of import,” Edward said, brushing aside his own observation. “For now, we need to finish out the Season. After that, we can consider ways to bring Everett to justice.”

Tension flowed out of Cade’s shoulders as if a huge weight had suddenly been lifted. “So you believe me?”

Edward raised a brow. “Of course I believe you. That was never in doubt.”

“We all believe you, Cade,” Drake said, finally entering the conversation. “You’re our brother, and if you say Everett’s the man, then he is, evidence to the contrary or not.”

“Bloody well right.” Jack thrust out a finger. “That double-dealer can’t be allowed to run the streets with impunity. You’ve got to take this to the ministry and get them to see reason.”

Cade ran a thumb over his forehead. “I already have. This morning, in fact, as early as they would agree to see me. Lord Caldwell gave me a polite hearing, then sent me on my way. It was the same at the War Office, the Horse Guards, and the Lord Chamberlain’s office. Every one of them listened, then said something to the effect that I was under great duress during my ordeal and that it’s only understandable I might have a delayed ‘breakdown,’ given the torture I’d undergone.”

Pausing, he dragged his fingers through his hair. “In other words, they all think I am mad, exactly as that blighter suggested last night. At best, they believe I am confused and leaping to erroneous conclusions. There’ll be no help from official quarters, not unless I can obtain better proof than saying I recognize his voice.”

“Which is precisely the reason we need to step back and take a more measured approach,” Edward stated, meeting Cade’s gaze with a penetrating look. “So, regardless of your quite understandable desire for justice and revenge, you are to take no further action against Everett for now. Doing so will only bring more trouble
down upon your head and that of the family. So stay the hell away from him, do you hear?”

Cade heard. He just didn’t know if he could manage to do as his brother insisted. Simply being aware that Everett was out there made his blood boil. Realizing Everett was being cheered and feted as some great hero—by Prince George and the military establishment, no less—while in actuality being a spy, double dealing for the French, sent his sense of outrage and wrath spiraling to nearly unbearable heights. How many more men would Everett betray? How many lives lost because of his treachery? How many well-laid plans and preparations would he scuttle with his deceit? And all the while, he might be stopped if only people would see the truth.

Bloody imbeciles! he railed in silent fury as he thought of the high-placed gentlemen, who’d dismissed his concerns today. How could they be so blind?

In the end, though, it wouldn’t matter whether they were blind or not. One way or another, he vowed to take care of Everett. Calida and her family—and all the others he’d harmed—would be vindicated. If it was the last thing he did on this earth, he would make certain their deaths did not go unanswered.

“So? Are we agreed?” Edward asked, shrewd speculation in his eyes, as though he knew exactly what Cade had been thinking.

Knowing Edward, he probably did. Annoying as it so often was, his older brother had a gift for reading people and being able to discern truth from lies.

Cade inclined his head. “Of course. You have my word that I will not publicly attack that treasonous rat again.”
But in private…well, nothing will ever force such an assurance from my lips.
As far as he was con
cerned, if Everett was ever careless enough to be caught alone, he would be fair game.
And I can hardly wait for that day to arrive!

As quietly as she could, Meg eased away from the study door. Careful to keep her footsteps as light as a ghost’s, she resumed her journey to the garden at the rear of the house. Only after she slipped outside and shut the glass-paned door behind her did she give herself permission to breathe normally again. Crossing to a stone bench that was surrounded by fragrant lavender and cheerfully preening white narcissus, she sank down onto its cool surface. Relaxing there, she let pieces of the conversation she had just heard play again in her mind.

The Byron brothers would not have been pleased had they known their words were being overheard. Then again, they oughtn’t to have left the door ever so slightly ajar if they wished to maintain their secrecy, she rationalized. And it wasn’t as if she had meant to eavesdrop.

After a truly dreadful breakfast party where she, Mallory, and the dowager had done their best to smile and ignore the furtive looks and hushed whispers brought about by last night’s melee, the three of them had returned home. By mutual agreement, they went their separate ways—Ava to write letters in her sitting room, Mallory to take a nap in her bedchamber, and Meg for a visit to the garden where she planned to sit and read while savoring the sunshine and warm May breezes.

But as she was passing the duke’s study, she heard Cade’s deep, throaty voice and stopped, unable to tear herself away despite knowing it was wrong to listen. Now that she had, however, she couldn’t regret her actions.

Last night had disturbed her greatly, her dreams afterward a replay of the intense violence that had been unleashed only feet from where she’d been standing in the ballroom. One minute she was conversing with Lord Everett, and the next, Cade was throwing the man to the floor as he tried to choke the life out of him.

She knew that Cade had once been a soldier, and therefore capable of using brute force, but until she’d actually seen it, she hadn’t realized how ferocious he could be.

And yet, with her he had never been anything but gentle. She’d seen him drugged and drunken, and still he was always careful and kind; tender, even at his most passionately demanding.

A tingle skimmed over her skin like a pebble across a summer lake, remembered pleasure turning her warm from the inside out. Memories flooded her senses. The way he’d caressed her last night in the library. The way she’d let him, helplessly enthralled by his touch. Now, on the stone bench, she shifted her legs, willing away the ache that sprang to life between her thighs, fighting the sensations that lingered in all the places he’d kissed and stroked.

Dear Lord, he makes me feel so confused! About my own feelings and wishes. About his.

What does he want from me?

What do I want of him?

Yet for all her uncertainty regarding her emotions toward Cade, she suffered no such doubts over his brawl with Everett. She’d heard Cade’s accusations, then listened to Everett’s denials. She had witnessed people’s reactions, and was dismayed by their instant belief that Cade was deluded—or worse, insane. But despite all
proof to the contrary, she knew beyond any doubt that Cade believed what he’d said—and even more, that he was right about Everett.

How she knew, she couldn’t say, but instinct told her that Cade’s memory of his tormentor’s voice was as clear and true as the day he’d first heard the man speak. Cade might carry scars—on his body, as well as his mind—but she knew he was as sane as she. Saner perhaps, given all he had endured and overcome. She’d seen what his nightmares did to him, and understood at least a portion of his agonizing loss. For that alone, she knew he would never wrongly accuse a man of crimes he had not committed. As his brothers had stated, if Cade said Everett was a spy and a scoundrel, then that’s exactly what he was.

Even more, she knew that Jack Byron was right and that Everett must not be allowed to go free and unpunished. Someone has to stop him! she determined. Cade wanted to, as did his brothers, but after last night’s incident, their hands were tied.

But
mine aren’t!
she realized. She’d made no promises involving herself, or about finding ways to unmask Everett for the fraud he was. She wasn’t sure yet how to prove his guilt to the world, but she was determined to do whatever it might take to help Cade.

“Would you care for a cup of punch, Miss Amberley?”

Meg glanced into the brown, puppy-dog eyes of the young gentleman who had just accompanied her for the last set. He was a friendly sort, if a bit dull-witted. Still, his well-meaning patter and attention was exactly what she needed tonight—giving her an easy opportunity to keep an eye out for Lord Everett.

Despite her resolution made nearly two weeks ago to expose him as a traitor, getting close enough to learn any useful information was turning out to be surprisingly difficult. Not that Everett was hiding himself away. Quite the contrary, in fact, since he seemed to make an appearance at every fete, soiree, and ball in the offing. No, the trouble stemmed not from his lack of accessibility, but rather from an excess of it.

Everywhere he went, people followed. Clusters of gentlemen eager to hear about his battlefield exploits and his opinions on everything from the economy to his choice of tailor. While the ladies—married and unmarried alike—flocked to his side in hopes of attracting some measure of his favorable regard.

Personally, she found the whole thing disgusting. But she supposed people saw what they wished to see, whether it happened to be the truth or not. Despite her frustration over being unable to proceed with her plan against Everett, the delay had provided at least one benefit.

In the days since Cade’s confrontation with Everett, the furor surrounding the incident had thankfully begun to fade from public consciousness. A more tantalizing scandal involving a marquis and the two married ladies with whom he’d been caught in bed—both at the same time—had shifted the attention of the gossip-loving ton.

Nonetheless, there were still those who had taken to calling Cade the “Mad Major”—delighting in offering him slights wherever he went. Stubborn to his core, Cade refused to avoid the unpleasantness and stay home, insisting on escorting her, Mallory, and Ava to their promised entertainments. Since all three ladies had
witnessed the fight, there was little required in the way of explanation—and Cade offered virtually none. He did, however, tell each of them how genuinely sorry he was for any personal distress his actions might have caused, then gave his mother a kiss on the cheek that earned him a fierce hug and a single, hastily dashed tear.

His only other concession to the scandal was the fact that, when out in public, he’d started spending more of his time in the company of his brothers. Large and formidable, the Byron men presented a united front that few dared to cross. At the moment, Meg knew they were all ensconced in the card room.