Hester stared down at the buttons at the bottom of her bodice. Verna needed not to be alone anymore, and so did she.
Adrian walked his horse nearly an hour, all the way to Regent’s Park. Then he remounted and rode straight back to Hester’s vine-covered cottage on the east end of Mayfair. They needed to talk about what had just happened. He didn’t mean to resume what they’d been doing, though he wanted to. But now was not the time. So he’d already resolved not to risk even touching her. But they did need to talk, to clarify the new situation between them.
What had seemed so obvious when he’d left her parlor seemed idiotic now. What if she didn’t seek him out? What if she decided he was the worst sort of cad? What if instead of enticing her, his passionate nature frightened her away? He had to make certain she understood the sincerity of his interest in her, and at the same time reassure himself of her interest in him.
When he arrived her servants were back. He braced himself when the housekeeper opened the door. Did she know what had happened in her absence? Had she spoken to Hester?
“Why good afternoon, Mr. Hawke.”
He doffed his hat. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dobbs. Would you be good enough to announce me to Mrs. Poitevant?”
“Ooh, but she’ll be sorry she missed you, sir. She’s gone off, y’see. Left me a note.”
“Gone off?” Adrian stood there thunderstruck. Gone off? That was the last thing he expected. Indisposed, yes. Not receiving callers. Or even not to home, the ton’s little white lie, understood by all as a set-down sent via a servant. But Mrs. Dobbs’s message was sincere. Hester had left the house, apparently just after he’d departed.
“Where did she go?”
Mrs. Dobbs seemed unfazed by his somewhat rude inquiry. “Gone to visit a friend, she said.”
“In Cheapside?”
Mrs. Dobbs cocked her head and studied him a long moment. “She told you about her friend?”
Jealousy struck him such a sucker punch that for several seconds Adrian could not respond. He had to force the words past the constriction in his throat. “She told me.”
“She must have taken a hack, as we had the coach.” The woman folded her hands over her thick, aproned middle. “I don’t like it when she goes off alone that way. A single woman like her. But she’s a game one, our girl is. Independent-minded, you know?”
“I know,” he muttered as jealousy gave way to a blind, maddened rage. He should never have left without coming to an understanding with her. He was an arrogant fool, believing he could replace her lover after just one stolen interlude that hadn’t even included the full act of sex.
And now she’d fled straight to her lover!
He turned abruptly on his heel, tossing a terse thank-you over his shoulder.
But Mrs. Dobbs wasn’t offended. Not in the least. Her husband came around from the yard just as Mr. Hawke rode off. “Another gentleman caller?” he said, his gray brows lowering as he squinted at the departing man.
“Not another one. The same one,” she answered. “That Hawke fellow.”
“Hunh. She ain’t had a fellow to call in all these years and now there’s the two of ”em.“
“Oh, you hush, Fenton Dobbs. That girl is in need of another husband. Has been for years. Just like I was before you met me at the stalls in Market Street.”
Even under his weather-beaten visage his face went a little red. Both widowed, they’d thought to live their lives alone until that fateful day nearly five years ago. “So,” he said, his voice gruff with emotions he had a hard time revealing. “Which one d’you think she’ll have?”
Mrs. Dobbs smiled at him. He was such a dear. “I’m thinking it will be the American. Indeed, I’m certain of it.”
“He was born a Scotsman.”
“It makes no matter where he was born. He’s the right one for her. You mark my words. Now come into the kitchen and I’ll make us some fresh tea.”
Adrian rode to Cheapside though he knew it was the mission of a madman. Somewhere near Aldersgate Street, that’s where he’d seen her that day. Close to Horace’s club. And she’d been afoot, so her “friend” must not live far from there.
The streets were busy as he made his way up one and down the next, scanning the passing faces, searching for a woman of average height and average coloring but who could not in any real way be considered average.
Clouds lurked over the city, threatening rain, with a fitful wind that kept the day cool. But beneath his summer-weight wool coat Adrian was sweating.
Damn him for a fool! He had better things to do with his time this last week of his stay in England than to chase after a woman like Hester Poitevant. How had he become involved with her anyway?
Only when it began to rain did he admit defeat. She was with the man she wanted to be with and it wasn’t him. Turning his horse toward Holborn Hill, he pulled his hat low and hunched his shoulders, oblivious to the cold trickle of raindrops beneath his turned-up collar.
But if he thought his day had already reached its low point, he revised his opinion when he arrived at his uncle’s townhouse. As he shed his coat in the slate-floored foyer, the butler informed him, “Lord Ainsley is being entertained by Lord Hawke. They both await you in the study.”
Adrian halted at the foot of the stairs. Damnation! George Bennett was the last person he needed to see. Did the man have no self-respect at all?
But Adrian’s rancor swiftly gave way to a surly satisfaction. If George Bennett needed more rejection and abuse, Adrian was just the man to give it to him. Without bothering to fetch another coat, he made his way down the hall toward his uncle’s private study.
“Ah, there you are.”
Adrian heard the edge of relief in Neville’s voice. He gave his uncle a subtle nod, then turned toward his old nemesis. “Hello, Bennett. What brings you out on such a dreary day?”
To his credit the man hardly flinched anymore at Adrian’s persistent refusal to refer to him by his title. “Well, I was out for a ride, you see, and I found myself very near to here. We’ve been talking horses, your uncle and I. The Hawke stables are renowned, despite their distance from London.”
And everyone knew the entire world revolved around hulking, stinking London. But Adrian only gave him a vague smile. “Yes. His animals are as fine as any you’ll ever see. Thinking of adding to your stock?”
“Well.” He rocked back on his heels. “A man has to keep an eye out. The right cattle are an investment like any other. Land. Sheep. Weaving sheds.” He paused, waiting after his unsubtle hint for Adrian to turn the subject to his wool investment venture.
But Adrian had no intention of helping George Bennett out. Instead he strolled to the liquor tray, poured himself a fat glass of Scotch whisky, then held the glass up and stared through its rich amber tint. He wanted Lord Ainsley, pillar of London society, to bring up that particular subject. He wanted the desperate fool to plead for a piece of that pie, to grovel and beg and then suffer the humiliation of rejection. The same way Adrian had in essence just begged and groveled and still been rejected by that other pillar of town society.
His hand tightened around the glass tumbler. Morally dishonest, both of them. But he kept his expression even. He fixed an amused gaze on Bennett, although who he saw was Hester, and what he felt was far from amusement. “Did you know that over the past twenty years my uncle’s animals have won the purses at every major racing venue in Great Britain? From Edinburgh to Doncaster to Ascot and Devon. Thoroughbreds, hunters, carriage horses. Everything but ponies—though if you need ponies for your children, I’m sure he can advise you.”
“I fear my nephew is too generous with his praise,” Neville said, joining in the spirit of Adrian’s game. “By the way, Ainsley. Do you have children?”
“One daughter,” the man muttered, his frustration clear. “But she’s too young for a pony. My sister, however, she’s quite the horsewoman,” he went on, forcing a smile. “Come to think of it, I was considering purchasing her a n
ew animal—for a wedding gift, you know?”
He was making it too easy, Adrian thought. Too easy. “Don’t tell me your lovely sister has accepted an offer so early in the season.” He pressed one hand to his chest. “I’m devastated. Truly devastated.”
“No, no,” Bennett interjected, waving his hands in front of him. “No. I only meant that when she does wed, your uncle and I might be able to do some business together.” He cleared his throat and gave one of his falsely hearty grins, first to Neville, then to Adrian. “Speaking of business, perhaps now is a good time to discuss our doing some business together.”
Adrian took a long pull of whisky and let it burn through him. He already burned with lust, frustration, and anger. Why not this physical burn as well? He drank again, then turned to Bennett.
“I’m afraid it isn’t a good time. I’m soaked, you see. A hot bath and a hot toddy to warm me up, that’s all I can think about right now. Perhaps another time.” He coughed, a loud fraudulent cough which, for good measure, he followed up with a noisy sneeze. When he spied the mottled anger staining Bennett’s face and the fearful tremble of his lips, he had to cough again to cover his laughter which threatened to erupt in whoops. How bad off were the man’s finances anyway?
As he strode out of the oak-paneled study, then up the stairs, he decided to make a few inquiries in that direction. And if those inquiries caused Bennett to believe he was seriously considering letting him into this deal, so much the better.
But Adrian’s animosity toward Bennett did not outlast his trek to his bedchamber. By the time he closed the door behind him and sat to remove his water-stained boots, he was once again trapped in the quagmire of his feelings for Hester. Even his fury at her betrayal couldn’t prevent desire from once again digging its claws into him.
He’d given her pleasure, never thinking of his own, and she’d then run straight to another man. He, meanwhile, seemed unable to find release with any other woman.
What sort of madness was that?
He stripped off his waistcoat, shirt, and breeches, then removed his stockings and small clothes as well. Though he tried to ignore the persistent arousal that lifted angrily between his legs, he was not successful.
Muttering a string of the foulest curses he knew, he threw on his robe and rang for a servant. When the man arrived Adrian did not turn from his blind perusal of the wet street beyond the window.
“Bring me a bath.” He tossed down the remnants of his drink. “It needn’t be hot.”
CHAPTER 14
At the insistent knock on her front door, Hester lifted her skirts and scurried up the stairs. “I’m not receiving callers,” she hissed at Mrs. Dobbs. “Not anyone.” Then she fled to her room, slammed the door, and collapsed against it in a panic of pounding heart, sweating palms, and shaking knees.
She knew she was being ridiculous. What did she think, that Adrian Hawke would follow her up her own stairs and beat down her door to have her? If he’d wanted her with that sort of desperation, he wouldn’t have departed so abruptly this afternoon.
But logic did little to relieve her attack of nerves. She heard the muffled voices, Mrs. Dobbs’s and a man’s. She was right, it was him.
But when the front door closed and she crept to the window to peek through the lace curtains, it was not Adrian Hawke she saw leaving, but George Bennett.
George Bennett? Why would he seek her out at her home?
She watched him climb into his gentleman’s gig. Then with a snap of his whip he sent the matched pair of Cleveland Bays charging down the street.
Goodness! What had him in such a state? She let the curtain fall. Need she ask such a foolish question? It wasn’t what had him in such a state, but rather who. If George Bennett had come to her house in a state of pique, it could only be owing to Adrian Hawke.
She let out a helpless, hopeless laugh. Good gracious but Mr. Hawke was certainly having a productive day. And it wasn’t even suppertime. Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he’d done this time to send George Bennett pounding on her door.
Poor Peg was still struggling up the stairs after her when Hester started back down. She paused to pet the loyal creature, then had to pet Fifi as well. “Come along. I’ll nip a treat for each of you in the kitchen. Mrs. Dobbs?”
The woman was waiting for her with a fresh cup of tea. “I thought you’d be down. Supper’s heating. Are you going out tonight?”
And chance running into Adrian Hawke? “No.” Hester made a face. “The sky looks bad and it may turn even worse.” She knotted her hands at her waist. “So. What did Lord Ainsley want?”
Mrs. Dobbs’s plump face darkened in a frown. “What a rude man that one is. Demanded to see you even after I told him you was indisposed. Said to rouse you anyway, that he was paying you to mind his sister’s needs and this was about her.”
“How did you get rid of him so fast?”
A dimple crept into the woman’s plump cheek. “I didn’t say a thing at first. Just stared at him and shook my head. He got more and more worked up until—Now you won’t like this, but it was all his doing.”
“What?”
“He kept askin” me, was you sick? Was you asleep?
But I didn’t say a thing. Then he said something rude about women and their maladies.“
“Good lord!”
“So I just nodded and said he was precisely right, that you had your monthly malady and I was just on my way to fix you a hot pack. I tell you, that shut him up right quick. There’s not a man alive who can deal with discussin” a woman’s monthlies.“ The woman cackled with laughter. ”His face got this choked look, like he couldn’t get his words out, and then he turned and stormed out.“
Hester couldn’t help it, she laughed too. It was humiliating in the extreme, yet it was hilarious to think of ugly, blustering George Bennett intimidated by a little housekeeper and the details of a woman’s monthlies. Once she started laughing, she couldn’t stop. She laughed and Mrs. Dobbs laughed until their sides hurt and they had to sit down.
Considering all she’d been through today, it felt wonderful, as if something trapped inside of her had been released. Even the dogs participated, yelping and wagging their hind ends so vigorously Peg fell over. Of course, that made Hester and Mrs. Dobbs laugh all the harder.
Finally when they were sobbing for breath Mrs. Dobbs wiped her eyes with her apron. “An” here I thought you’d be angry with me.“
Hester fondled Peg’s ears while Fifi leaped up and down, trying to get onto her lap. “I should be annoyed, except that George Bennett deserves whatever rudeness comes his way.”
Mrs. Dobbs gave her a shrewd look. “I recognized his name, of course. But why’s he coming here when he’s never come before? God bless that poor Miss Dulcie,” she added. “The family that child is burdened with.”
“Yes. It is unfortunate. As to why he came, well, I suspect he came with additional instructions for me. He wants his sister to marry money, you see. Specifically, Mr. Hawke’s money.”
“Oh. Now I understand. An” you disagree with that match?“
Hester didn’t often discuss her clients’ private business with her housekeeper. But today seemed a day for breaking all the rules of personal conduct.
“Mr. Hawke is not the marrying sort,” she said by way of explanation. Hearing the words out loud had a sobering effect. He was not the marrying sort, nor was she.
But he would make a fine choice for a lover—
She shook off that unsettling thought and fought back the shiver of anticipation such an outrageous idea roused in her. “I believe I shall lie down for a while,” she said, setting aside her tea.
“Are you feeling poorly?”
“No. Just a little tired.”
“I’ll hold supper then.”
“Just leave a plate in the warming oven. No need to delay your own supper. I’ll eat whenever I get up.”
“Well, if you’re sure. Have a good nap then.”
How Hes
ter wished she could nap. But her head was too full of wild thoughts and mad ideas. Take a lover indeed. How could Verna DeLisle have suggested such a thing?
Yet it seemed inevitable.
She sat on her bed and contemplated the shipwreck of her heretofore placid, uneventful life. She’d wished many a time for a more stimulating life than the one she led. It seemed she was getting her chance. It was now or never for her; accept Adrian Hawke’s carnal interests or avoid him until he left England entirely. Then try to pretend none of this had ever happened.
And try to go back to her old, uneventful life.
Fifi barked and Hester lifted her onto her lap. “Aren’t you the demanding one,” she murmured to the silky little dog. “Pretty again. And getting plumper every day.”
In that moment Hester knew she could no more go back to her old dried-up life than she could send Fifi or Peg back to their neglected ones. Pretty, plump, and happy. That’s how her dogs were now, and that’s what she wanted her life to be like. Even if only for a very little while.
Adrian was drunk when the note arrived.
He had sat through dinner with Neville, Olivia, and Catherine, a thundercloud with no business participating in their sunny family gathering. They’d tolerated him, though, only teasing him a very little.
“Perhaps he’s homesick for some special lady in Boston,” Catherine had speculated to her mother.
“No. I believe it’s more immediate than that,” Olive responded. “An English woman, I think.”
The only one taking his side was his uncle who muttered, “Perhaps it’s living in a house full of nosy women that has him so out of sorts.”
They’d all laughed, Adrian along with them. Then they’d gone on to other topics, not knowing how close to the truth they were. They chose not to comment when he consumed the best part of a bottle of wine. He followed dinner with two glasses of port, which he didn’t even much like. Now he was on to whisky, alone in the dark of the second-floor roof terrace when the butler delivered the note.
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