Mrs. Booker would have a fit.
“My lord, the doctor will be here soon, and we need to get her ladyship ready to receive him.”
He looked at Evangeline, but she merely gave him a tight smile. He nodded and retreated. At the door he added, “Please send the doctor to see me the minute he has finished his examination. I’ll be in Augustus’s study.” Where he intended to drink until the guilt swimming in his veins drowned in alcohol.
He left the door to the study ajar, wanting to hear what was going on. He slumped into a chair by the fire and hugged the decanter of brandy to his body. If he had not brought Evangeline home with him, she would not be lying up there injured; he, however, would likely be dead.
At that exact moment he recognized that the woman who’d once broken his heart had just saved his life. He prayed her injury was not, or did not turn into, anything life-threatening.
That’s not the only reason you’re upset.
All his posturing tonight was bullshit. The idea of Evangeline dying filled him with sorrow. A depth of loss sank into his soul and hurt just as much as the day he’d received the note telling him she was marrying another.
A note spelling out very clearly that his love alone was not enough.
On that thought, he suddenly realized what bringing her to this house admitted. He’d shown her that she still held power over him.
She knew he’d kept her letter—her letters.
What man keeps the letters of a woman who means nothing to him?
He didn’t bother pouring the brandy into a glass; he simply drank it straight from the decanter.
“Drinking until you’re drunk won’t help Evangeline.”
He lowered the decanter. He hadn’t heard Arend arrive.
“How did you hear what happened?”
“I’d ease up on the drink. You have a guest who needs your help.” Arend sank into the chair opposite him. “Evangeline’s driver sent a note to Christian’s. I came as soon as I heard. What happened?”
He slammed the decanter down on the side table. “That bloody bitch.”
“Let’s not treat the brandy so callously.” Arend held out a glass for him to fill. “I assume you are not talking about Evangeline.”
Hadley shook his head. “Bloody De Palma. If I hadn’t bent down…That shot was meant for me. Shot in the back. The bitch has no honor.”
“I thought as much; that’s why I came. Time has run out, and we have to stop her. I’m tired of being nice, of being cautious when our enemy grows bolder. I’m sure it’s bloody Isobel’s stepmother, Victoria. Everything about her fits what we have learned about our enemy. No one we spoke to really knows where she came from, but apparently she’s from the depths of Wales.”
At Arend’s raised eyebrow, he understood what Arend was indicating. How the hell do you check out a person’s background when they come from Wales?
Hadley rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes. What a mess. He drew in a deep breath, willing the blood still pumping fast around his body to slow. He’d almost died today.
“It’s good to feel alive, isn’t it? Or is it that a woman you swore meant nothing to you has you worried sick?”
He threw what he hoped was an indignant look at Arend. “I almost died. That is what I was thinking. Besides, Evangeline has nothing to do with our enemy’s plans for the Libertine Scholars. She is innocent in that, at least.”
“According to you, not so innocent. More of a sly, conniving—”
“She’s not in the same league as De Palma. Evangeline might be a liar, but she’s no killer.”
Arend sat looking at him for a moment before saying softly, “So what are we going to do about De Palma? You and I have run out of time. It’s obvious she’s getting desperate. Shooting you dead in the middle of the street, in London? Society would not stand for that. Every Bow Street Runner would be employed.”
Hadley’s head began to pound. He understood what Arend was hinting at. The two of them
“My lord, the doctor will be here soon, and we need to get her ladyship ready to receive him.”
He looked at Evangeline, but she merely gave him a tight smile. He nodded and retreated. At the door he added, “Please send the doctor to see me the minute he has finished his examination. I’ll be in Augustus’s study.” Where he intended to drink until the guilt swimming in his veins drowned in alcohol.
He left the door to the study ajar, wanting to hear what was going on. He slumped into a chair by the fire and hugged the decanter of brandy to his body. If he had not brought Evangeline home with him, she would not be lying up there injured; he, however, would likely be dead.
At that exact moment he recognized that the woman who’d once broken his heart had just saved his life. He prayed her injury was not, or did not turn into, anything life-threatening.
That’s not the only reason you’re upset.
All his posturing tonight was bullshit. The idea of Evangeline dying filled him with sorrow. A depth of loss sank into his soul and hurt just as much as the day he’d received the note telling him she was marrying another.
A note spelling out very clearly that his love alone was not enough.
On that thought, he suddenly realized what bringing her to this house admitted. He’d shown her that she still held power over him.
She knew he’d kept her letter—her letters.
What man keeps the letters of a woman who means nothing to him?
He didn’t bother pouring the brandy into a glass; he simply drank it straight from the decanter.
“Drinking until you’re drunk won’t help Evangeline.”
He lowered the decanter. He hadn’t heard Arend arrive.
“How did you hear what happened?”
“I’d ease up on the drink. You have a guest who needs your help.” Arend sank into the chair opposite him. “Evangeline’s driver sent a note to Christian’s. I came as soon as I heard. What happened?”
He slammed the decanter down on the side table. “That bloody bitch.”
“Let’s not treat the brandy so callously.” Arend held out a glass for him to fill. “I assume you are not talking about Evangeline.”
Hadley shook his head. “Bloody De Palma. If I hadn’t bent down…That shot was meant for me. Shot in the back. The bitch has no honor.”
“I thought as much; that’s why I came. Time has run out, and we have to stop her. I’m tired of being nice, of being cautious when our enemy grows bolder. I’m sure it’s bloody Isobel’s stepmother, Victoria. Everything about her fits what we have learned about our enemy. No one we spoke to really knows where she came from, but apparently she’s from the depths of Wales.”
At Arend’s raised eyebrow, he understood what Arend was indicating. How the hell do you check out a person’s background when they come from Wales?
Hadley rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes. What a mess. He drew in a deep breath, willing the blood still pumping fast around his body to slow. He’d almost died today.
“It’s good to feel alive, isn’t it? Or is it that a woman you swore meant nothing to you has you worried sick?”
He threw what he hoped was an indignant look at Arend. “I almost died. That is what I was thinking. Besides, Evangeline has nothing to do with our enemy’s plans for the Libertine Scholars. She is innocent in that, at least.”
“According to you, not so innocent. More of a sly, conniving—”
“She’s not in the same league as De Palma. Evangeline might be a liar, but she’s no killer.”
Arend sat looking at him for a moment before saying softly, “So what are we going to do about De Palma? You and I have run out of time. It’s obvious she’s getting desperate. Shooting you dead in the middle of the street, in London? Society would not stand for that. Every Bow Street Runner would be employed.”
Hadley’s head began to pound. He understood what Arend was hinting at. The two of them
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