Cloaked in Danger

by Jeannie Ruesch

  Amidst the low rumble of voices, she bustled herself into her outerwear. The rush of cold air at the front door was welcome, and she closed her eyes briefly and took in a long draft. The icy-cold air filled her throat and her lungs with a sting, but for the first time since she’d walked downstairs, she felt like she could breathe. She hurried down the front steps, turned the corner toward the park, and set a brisk pace toward her favorite spot.

  It was likely too late to stem the flow of gossip about her father, so she had little time to finish her task.

  And what on earth had possessed Patrick?

  She didn’t feel even the slightest bit of grief at pushing him out of her life, though she was more than mildly surprised at his attitude. She had seen a wholly different side to him. Although comparisons were unfair, Aria appreciated the respect Adam showed. He didn’t assume to tell her how to speak, or act, or where to go.

  Patrick had expectations completely at odds with the person she was. He wanted a perfect English rose, a woman of demure and ladylike attitude. Someone who would bend to his will and defer to his judgment in all things.

  So why on earth had he courted her?

  She was anything but demure, and as she’d been raised with a father who let her spirit run free, ladylike wasn’t top of her attributes either.

  Not that it mattered now.

  As she approached the busy street, Aria glanced in both directions for oncoming carriages, and seeing a lull in the activity, hurried across and into the familiar entrance of the park. She moved on automatic feet toward the path that led to her hidden spot.

  She would wait there for Adam.

  If they didn’t learn any answers within a week, her father would be declared dead. The list of names was all she had, and when each name had been checked off, she had nothing left to go on. Nothing to find.

  Nothing to hope for.

  Perhaps there had never been anything to begin with. Adam’s words—that she only worked to keep herself busy—wouldn’t stop repeating in her head.

  What if this quest was naught but distraction?

  Was it grief? Denial? She had refused the possibility of any other outcome than her father returning home. She’d had to. The pain, the sadness and the stark loneliness that rose up whenever she thought of both of her parents being gone threatened to overwhelm her.

  So instead, she fought. She hadn’t had to face the truth then, if the truth was what she made it.

  The lure of letting go called, and she hated herself for it. She’d grown so weary, so tired of having her emotions stretched thin on this endless rack of torture. Round and round she went. Each day, the memory of her father’s face blurred more and her hope shattered inch by inch.

  She had to let go.

  Before it destroyed her.

  A large, meaty palm slapped against her mouth and yanked her head back.

  Pain exploded across Aria’s face. Before she could react, arms of steel surrounded her. She struggled to breathe around the hand.

  The man dragged her back into the bushes.

  Fight, Aria. Fight!

  Her mind grew fuzzy. She twisted, turned, struggling to find air, battling the bonds that help her so firmly. Light and dark shadows edged her eyesight, and she fought the urges to succumb to the darkness.

  Finally the hand lifted and she sucked in gasps of air. With the buoy of energy, she twisted in her captor’s arms in time to see an ugly sneer, a face she didn’t recognize.

  Then his fist smashed against the side of her face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Over an hour later, Adam strode down the street toward Aria’s house.

  She hadn’t been at their spot. He’d walked the length of the park three times. Found nothing.

  And given what he’d been told by John, Aria’s uncle, Adam worried that Aria’s faith had run out.

  John had made it clear he would protect the girl he thought of as his family until his dying breath, and upon that breath, he needed to know that Aria would be with someone else who would protect her with his dying breath.

  John had also asked him to help her adjust to her father’s death.

  Hearing John’s story, hearing the situation from someone who had been there firsthand, Adam found it difficult to believe Gideon was still alive. But he had no idea how to tell Aria that.

  Her hope was all she ran on, and if they yanked that away from her, God knows what she might do.

  When Adam had been told of Gideon’s death, his only thought—his only need—had been to get to her side. To hold her, to be with her. Had someone suggested to him it was possible to feel so fiercely about a woman in such a short amount of time, he would have scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all.

  And he would have ended up eating his own words.

  At the Whitney residence, he gave a solid knock.

  Immediately, Emily Whitney filled the doorway. “Lord Merewood.” She frowned, straining her head to look past him. “Where is Aria?”

  Alarm rang in his ears. “She isn’t here?”

  Emily shook her head. “She has not returned since she left for her walk earlier. I believed she was still with you.”

  “I went to the park to meet her, but she had already left.”

  “She has likely wandered off to plan her next move. It is not unusual for her.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach absently. “She did send her acceptance for the Pennybrooke ball invitation this evening. Perhaps you can speak with her there. Please forgive my manners. Would you like to come in?”

  Adam rubbed his chilled hands together. “No, thank you. I’ll head home.”

  Emily nodded. “Very well. Good night, then.”

  “Of course.” With that assurance, he moved down the steps and walked the few blocks to his townhouse. Unease prickled along his spine as he sprinted up the steps to his front door. He thrust it open, the warmth that flowed around him welcome against his skin. With a quick glance at the empty side table where calling cards were left, Adam continued into the corridor.

  “Higgins!” he called out amidst the clopping of his heavy footsteps.

  The man appeared in front of him without any sign of where he had come from. “You bellowed, my lord?”

  “Has Miss Whitney been here this evening?”

  Higgins shook his head. “No, my lord. I have not seen her.”

  Adam’s stomach clenched. Where had she gone?

  “However, Mr. Calebowe is currently being entertained in the parlor by the dowager Countess, if you wish to make an appearance.”

  “What?” This was the last thing he needed.

  “Mr. Calebowe is currently—”

  “I bloody well heard you the first time, Higgins,” Adam said as he turned on his heel.

  “Then perhaps one might not ask for a reoccurrence of the words.”

  Too worried to engage in their sparring, Adam ignored Higgins’s spritely response and moved through the open doors of the parlor. He stopped.

  There, on the same couch, sat his mother next to Mr. Calebowe, their hands intertwined, their gazes locked.

  “Mama.”

  Hypatia looked up, a flushed smile lighting her face in a way Adam had not seen in years. Not since before his father had died.

  The comparison made his blood run cold.

  “Adam, dear! I am so glad you’ve returned home.” She giggled. Giggled. “Please, come and sit. I want to introduce Franklin.”

  “I don’t have the time, Mama. I need to find Aria.”

  Hypatia waved a hand in the air. “You’ll see her this evening, I am certain. Please, Adam. It is quite important that you be introduced properly.”

  “And why is that?” he said as he took slow steps toward them. Adam leaned against a chair, unwilling to give
up the advantage of height.

  Hypatia’s smile widened. “One thing at a time.” Adam’s gaze drifted downward to where her hands were still clasped by Calebowe’s grip. “My dearest son, Adam, Earl of Merewood, may I introduce Mr. Franklin Calebowe.”

  Adam gave a curt nod of his head. “Mr. Calebowe.” He stood up. “If I may, Mama, I have to—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Adam, sit down. You can spare ten minutes, for I have something rather important—-and perhaps a little shocking, I imagine—to tell you.”

  “Please, let me?” Mr. Calebowe interjected. “It is only right, as I should have done this very thing years ago but was too stubborn and bullheaded.”

  Tension forced Adam’s back up as Mr. Calebowe turned toward him.

  “My lord, I imagine this will come as quite a shock. I only hope you may understand that this woman, your mother, has held my heart for many years. While I have not been a part of her life, she has been a part of mine. She never left my soul. So it is my great respect and adoration for her that compels me to ask for your permission to marry her.”

  Adam stared at him. He couldn’t form words. He couldn’t think beyond—marry his mother? Was the man daft? He’d been gone for thirty years, and within a week of his return and one letter later, he was compelled to propose?

  Adam turned a red-hued gaze on his mother, shocked to see her expression hopeful and joyous. Images flashed through his head, of Blythe’s hopeful, joyous flush of first love after meeting Thomas Ashton. That same expression as she said her wedding vows, only to be devastated a mere hour later as she realized the man she loved had left her. Disappeared. On their wedding day.

  He would not see another of his family destroyed.

  “Get out.”

  Calebowe blanched. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Get out of my house. I will not allow you to take advantage of my mother.” His last words were a roar, and the heat of anger swirled inside until it filled his throat like a raging river, threatening to spill over.

  “Adam, you will not speak to Franklin this way!” his mother cried. Calebowe stood, and Hypatia followed, her hand on his arm to hold him at her side. “You do not have to leave. My son is being atrocious, and he will apologize for his behavior.” She glared at Adam. “Now.”

  “I will not apologize, Mama. And I will not allow you to make this mistake.”

  “I do not need your permission. This was a courtesy Franklin wished to extend to you. It was not a request. I am marrying Franklin, and you cannot stop this.”

  Adam turned to the man. “How much will it take?”

  Calebowe reared his head back. “What?”

  “How much? I shall have a bank draft drawn for you posthaste. Name the sum—it shall be yours if you leave and never darken this door again.”

  “Adam!” His mother’s cry was filled with hurt. “Stop this at once.”

  “It is all right, ‘Patia. Your son is protecting you against a man he knows nothing about. I do not blame him.” Calebowe tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and met Adam’s gaze squarely. “However, without attempting to sound crass, I do not need your money. I only want her, as I have wanted her since we were children. In time, I hope you will see that, for now that she’s forgiven me, I do not intend to let her go again.” He held Hypatia’s hand to his face and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I shall take my leave. But I will come back tomorrow.”

  “See that you do,” Hypatia said through a tear-laced voice. As he left, Adam’s mother turned to him, the full force of her fury blazing. Her hands shook as she tried to contain herself. “I am appalled at your behavior. How could you act that way?”

  “How could you assume I would act any other way? For God’s sake, you have only been in communication with him for mere weeks!”

  “I have known him my entire life. And that is neither here nor there. If I choose to marry a man, it’s my choice. Not yours.”

  “I promised Papa I would protect his family. That includes you. I failed with Blythe, and I will not fail again.”

  Hypatia shook her head. “You believe you have some responsibility to make certain that we live according to what you feel is acceptable, but life is not so simple, Adam. You cannot protect us by controlling us. Had you acted like the boorish ass you were a moment ago when Thomas had called upon Blythe, do you truly believe that would have solved the problem?”

  “She would not have married him had I disapproved.”

  “Or perhaps she would have found another way or gotten into a worse situation. She was in love, and Blythe would be the first to tell you there is no reasoning with a person in love.”

  “Are you telling me you are in love with Calebowe?” The very idea had him turning for the spirits, where he poured a liberal dose.

  “Your father is gone, Adam.”

  “That is not what I asked.”

  “No, but it is what you mean. Because Franklin came before him, if he also comes after him, do you fear that negates what your father meant to me? That I could not have loved him if I loved Franklin? Yes, Franklin is back in my life and those feelings have been rekindled, but it does not mean your father wasn’t the love of my life.”

  “Mama, you may have known the man once, but you also said he left you without warning. He abandoned you and decided to show up thirty years later.”

  “I’m well aware of our history, thank you.”

  “You cannot trust him. And should you choose to anyway, I will not. I will not make the same mistake again.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t your mistake to make, son. It’s mine, and I don’t see it as one.” She turned her back and moved toward the door, only to stop a moment and glance back. “Be happy for me, Adam.”

  How could he protect her when she wouldn’t let him? “I need to answer my own questions first. I need to know more about him.”

  “Then you should have asked him.” With a sad, disappointed look, she turned and left him alone, staring at the empty glass in his hand.

  He drained the last remaining drop. He had set his investigators to learn what they could about Franklin Calebowe, but it would take time. The man had indicated he’d been in America most of the years past. The voyage there and back alone would take months, then whatever time it took to uncover the facts of his life. Adam simply didn’t have the luxury of waiting.

  He would have to find another way to stop this. He had to make his mother see reason. As Adam set down the glass, he remembered why he’d come home.

  Aria.

  His stomach twisted. It did not settle with him that she’d not been at the park. She had known he was waiting. Emily said it was customary for Aria to disappear, but Adam knew she had a goal—and she had been backed into a corner as far as her time line went.

  Adam had firsthand knowledge of what she would do when she was on a mission. Scandal had nipped at her heels the entire time and ultimately caught them both. But now? She was impetuous on a good day.

  Adam rolled his neck to ease the coils of tension that wound around his shoulders. There was only two names left on Aria’s list, and Adam had a sinking feeling she was out for blood.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She wasn’t at the ball.

  Adam searched the crowd in the Pennybrooke’s ballroom yet again, frustration mounting as he still hadn’t found the glossy black curls or the sassy smile he needed to see.

  The two remaining men on her list, the Earl of Dunlevy and the Duke of Cantonbury were here tonight. Dunlevy danced among the debutantes, obviously looking for a wealthy bride to help solve his gambling debts. The duke, true to form, stayed in the game room playing cards in efforts to avoid being in the same room with his wife and his mistress.

  If they were here, Aria should be here. By all accounts, she should be frothing a
t the mouth to get her hands on the bloody nobles.

  Adam felt a presence next to him. A slight twist of his head and he saw matching height, dark hair...Wonderful. Nothing like making a bad night worse. “Ravensdale.”

  “Merewood.” Blythe’s betrothed stared out among the dancers, but they stood in silence for a number of minutes, until finally, Ravensdale said quietly, “She’s not here, is she?”

  “If you mean Blythe, no.”

  “I am referring to Miss Whitney. Blythe told me she has disappeared.”

  He disappeared, Adam. Without a trace. That doesn’t just happen.

  Aria’s words about her father echoed like a mocking reminder. Adam didn’t believe in coincidence.

  “You expected her here tonight?” Ravensdale asked.

  “Yes.”

  “She might still show.”

  It finally dawned on him that Ravensdale was trying to offer his support. When Adam had been anything but supportive of even a footstep regarding Ravensdale, why would he care?

  “Blythe mentioned two particular men of interest to Miss Whitney. Cantonbury and I are somewhat acquainted,” Ravensdale said.

  Adam’s gaze swung toward him. “Friends?”

  The duke lifted a shoulder. “He won’t be standing up for me at the wedding, if that’s what you mean. But we’ve voted on similar sides in the House. Played a few hands at White’s. If there is something you need to know of him, I might be of service.”

  The tendons in Adam’s jaw jumped as he clamped down on his teeth to avoid making any comments. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop the wedding, Blythe had made that clear.

  But in any other situation, Adam wouldn’t ask the man for a damn thing.

  “I need to know of Cantonbury’s whereabouts these past months,” Adam finally told him begrudgingly. “The man she is looking for was in Egypt when her father disappeared.”

  Ravensdale nodded. “I feel the urge to play some cards.” Without waiting for an answer, he moved in the direction of the duke.