On a growl, he dragged his fingers through his hair and battled against his frustration and arousal. As soon as he had himself under control, he decided, he would return to the ballroom and endure the rest of the evening. After that…well, he would see.
It took Meg a full twenty minutes inside the ladies’ withdrawing room before she could trust herself enough to re-join the festivities. Even then her body felt strangely unlike her own, an occasional twinge or flutter reminding her of all the places where Cade’s hands and lips had so recently been.
Afterward, she was dancing when a fresh quiver took her unawares, causing her to set a foot wrong and stumble. Her partner caught her before she fell, an expression of concern on his face. Tossing him an apologetic smile, she recovered the rhythm and resumed the steps with her usual grace.
She nearly overbalanced again when Cade came into the room a half hour later. He didn’t look her way, and after a long, initial glance at him, she did her best not to look at him, either. Somehow she forced herself to talk and laugh and dance, while inside her emotions were in turmoil. What does Cade mean, kissing me like that? How dare he touch me so intimately, then coolly turn away?
When the next set drew to a close, she strolled off the dance floor, intending to locate Mallory and the dowager and persuade them to depart. As for Cade…he could make his way home with them or not, as he wished. For her part, she needed time alone in her room to collect her thoughts and make some sense of her jumbled feelings.
Just then a rustle of movement and whispering comment rippled like a breeze through the crowd. A latecomer stood at the ballroom entrance, his neatly trimmed, thick blond hair waving around his comely face like a regal, golden crown. Dressed in the requisite black and white that gentlemen wore to formal occasions, he looked a picture of sophisticated gentility and unspoken command.
Meg stared, along with nearly every other person in the room. “Who is that gentleman?” she murmured to her dance partner, who had yet to leave her side.
“Oh, do you not know? Since his return from the Peninsula, the papers have been talking about him without pause.”
“Which papers?”
“All of them, I believe. That is Lord Everett, the hero of Corunna. They say he rescued two dozen men from the clutches of the French. Whisked them right out from under the frogs’ noses despite a barrage of enemy bullets and cannon fire. Afterward he helped hold off the enemy so the wounded could be loaded onto the troop ships bound for home. I hear he even captured an Imperial French eagle, and is rumoured to have stolen secret plans that are aiding Wellesley even as we speak. Apparently, the prince is in thrall over him. So much so he will be awarding Everett a gold cross for valor in a lavish ceremony at court next week.”
“It’s no wonder if he did all that! Most impressive.”
Apparently, everyone else seemed to agree, groups of people making their way forward so they could greet the courageous champion in their midst.
“Shall we say hello?” her dance partner asked as he held out his arm.
Meg hesitated a moment, then accepted his offer with a nod.
From the side of the room, Cade surveyed the milling throng as a crowd gathered in a widening circle around the tall blond man who had just arrived.
“Everett,” he heard someone say as they moved past. Although he’d never met the man, he knew him by reputation. Just as everyone else did, it would seem. If reports were to be believed, the fellow was as brave as the legendary Horatius himself. The ton was certainly showering him with enough adoration to merit such a claim.
Remaining where he stood, Cade sipped a cup of black coffee and watched the fanfare. He caught sight of Meg as she strolled forward on the arm of one of her gentleman admirers. Except for a slight flush that could be attributed to her recent dancing, no one would ever have suspected what the two of them had been doing in the library less than an hour ago. Apparently, she’d had no difficulty regaining her composure. Perhaps she hadn’t been as affected as he had assumed.
His fingers tightened against the delicate porcelain as he took a hasty swallow, the liquid nearly hot enough to scald. Placing the cup against the saucer with a ringing click, he set the drink on a nearby table, then moved toward the ballroom doors. In spite of his earlier resolve to stay, he’d decided to call for the coach. Once he arrived at his destination, he would have the vehicle sent back for the ladies. As for the destination itself, well, even he still wasn’t sure whether he was returning home this evening or not.
Trying to exit the ballroom proved a challenge, however, since the way was blocked by the crush of Lord Everett’s enthusiastic well-wishers. As for the great man himself, he appeared to take the attention in stride, smiling affably as he conversed and shook hands.
As Cade drew nearer, he heard the silky tone of Everett’s voice, though his words remained indistinct. His step slowed then, his throat and chest tightening. His breathing grew unexpectedly laboured and a line of perspiration broke out across his forehead, his skin itching as if a nest of ants were crawling over him. Like some ghastly phantom, the voice from his nightmares began to whisper inside his head.
You can end this. Just tell me, Byron. Tell me.
Nausea surged like a tempest inside Cade’s belly, his hand shaking as he gripped his cane like a lifeline. Swallowing hard, he willed his limbs to carry him forward.
The voice came again as Everett spoke in an otherworldly echo of the remembered whispers ringing inside his head. He squeezed his eyes closed, the scar around his throat throbbing as if he was being garrotted all over again.
Tell me and she won’t scream anymore!
Someone jostled him as they edged past. Cade barely noticed, memories flashing in quick succession through his mind.
It’s always a delight to form new acquaintances, especially when the lady is so lovely.
Was that the voice? Or Everett? Suddenly he didn’t know.
“How do you do, my lord,” said a woman in warm, lilting tones. Comforting, familiar tones that wrapped around him like a pair of soothing arms.
Meg.
Cade’s eyes popped open.
“The pleasure is all mine,” the nightmare voice said, speaking again out of Everett’s mouth. As he watched, Everett took Meg’s hand and bent over it with a practiced bow.
Not yours. Mine! So take your damned hands off her!
Cade roared aloud as some atavistic beast sprang to life inside him. All conversation ceased, people’s mouths dropping open as they turned to stare. But he barely noticed, his attention centred solely on one man.
Everett looked up, his gaze meeting Cade’s. In the length of a single second, a silent recognition passed between them, and Cade knew beyond any doubt that a monster stood before him.
“You filthy traitor!” Cade bellowed. Taking three quick, giant steps, he launched himself at the other man.
Women screamed and men shouted, but Cade heard none of it as his hands curved around his enemy’s throat. He squeezed, then squeezed harder, wanting to crush the bastard’s windpipe so he would never be able to draw breath nor speak again. Everett struggled in his grasp, beating fists against Cade’s head and shoulders as the two of them crashed to the floor. The impact sent pain reverberating through Cade’s leg, but he barely felt it, too intent on driving his fingers deeper into the other man’s neck.
Everett’s eyes protruded under the pressure and he gasped for air, twisting in Cade’s hold. Prying at Cade’s hands he kicked his legs as he tried to break free. But Cade hung on, tenacious as a leech, determined not to let go until the other man had turned into a corpse.
Then suddenly he was being wrenched away, hands reaching down to pull him off Everett. He fought, struggling to maintain his hold, but the men surrounding him proved stronger, his grasp on Everett loosening as he was yanked free. He fought on even after they pulled him off, wrestling them so he could go after Everett once again.
Meanwhile, Everett’s concerned friends and admirers reache
d down to assist him to his feet. Everett’s face was mottled with angry colour, his lips tinged with the faintest trace of blue. Cade sneered, glad to see he’d done some damage. He only regretted it hadn’t been more.
“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 dishevelled 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 dishonoured 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 casual 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.
CHAPTER 14
“What 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 spok
e 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.”
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