"Perhaps he don't like women," Huntsford put in sourly.
"Don't be ridiculous. He likes them all right, for a few nights each! Fanny thinks there's some sort of tragedy in his past. A broken heart. I wish I could remember—"
"Don't bother. It don't signify because this Essex fellow is just a peasant," Huntsford argued. "He definitely ain't some fancy Scapegrace!"
Out in the corridor, Nathan froze. "Damn." He could barely whisper the word. As he traversed the stairs and passageways that would return him to his room, he continued to hear the echo of her words: "The Scapegrace!" During his last stay in London, people had taken up the name partly because he would not be coaxed into society and thus remained a mysterious figure to all but a small circle of friends. He wouldn't play by the rules of the ton, so he was seen as more dashing than ever.
He was spotted with women, which only made the others want him more, and he was seen gambling and drinking in the clubs, but few of the dandies seemed to know him well. People assumed, too, that Nathan Raveneau must be like his father, who had been a notorious rake in his day. Once the title Scapegrace was spoken, everyone adopted it, and Nathan himself only became more remote.
Londoners were notoriously fickle, however. No doubt the Scapegrace had been nearly forgotten after he'd disappeared this spring—until tonight, when Nathan made the mistake of turning up looking like Raveneau rather than Essex.
Of course, in the morning he would put on his unfashionable blue coat, and his spectacles, and he'd comb his hair a bit too carefully, and they would think the Scapegrace had been a claret-induced illusion. Nathan began to breathe easier as he approached the safe haven of his bedchamber.
The door was ajar, and the tallow candle still burned on his desk, sending weak flickers of light through the opening. Safe. He pushed the door, entered, and was stunned to see Adrienne standing over his desk. Wearing her night-clothes and an expression of lively curiosity, she reached toward the open ship's log.
Nathan was momentarily paralyzed with shock, but his wits did not fail him. "What the devil are you doing in here?" he demanded.
Chapter 7
Adrienne gasped, letting the leather-bound volume drop back onto the desk. "Oh, you startled me! What's wrong? I was only waiting for you to return—"
"Haven't you ever heard of respecting other people's privacy?" He snatched the journal away and put it inside his armoire. One more moment and she would have seen Raveneau stamped on the cover!
"Why are you so touchy? I wasn't going to steal anything, for heaven's sake!" Frowning, she pointed to his spectacles, long forgotten against the back corner of the desk. "Has your sight suddenly been restored?"
"No. I just forgot to put them on." He reached past Adrienne before she could pick them up, look through the lenses, and discover that they were perfectly clear. "Everyone who wears spectacles isn't blind, you know." To underline the point that he didn't need the spectacles in order to function, he put them in a drawer.
She was studying with interest the fine silver inkstand and the handsomely bound books that were lined along the wall. "You aren't quite what you seem to be, Mr. Essex."
"I have no idea what you mean. Furthermore, I think it is you who should make explanations for your uninvited intrusion into my private sanctuary in the middle of the night—"
"I've never seen you wear that shirt before!" Adrienne touched the pleated front appreciatively. "Why, that's excellent fabric—and it fits you so much better than those others. Did you just have it made?"
"I'm not quite certain what you mean, unless it is an implied criticism of my usual wardrobe." It was a pleasure to see that he had caught her off guard. "Furthermore, why this sudden interest in my personal possessions?"
"No criticism was intended." Adrienne colored and dragged her eyes from the view of his chest. "It's just that you have appeared to be a man of modest means, but now that I've—"
"Invaded my privacy," he insisted.
"See here, I did not come here to pry into your affairs or to argue!" Drawing herself up, she recovered her spirit. It was alarming to realize that Nathan Essex was the only person who was able to daunt her, and far too easily. "I merely thought to inform you that Lady Thomasina is resting again." Briefly she described the old woman's dream wherein her son banished her to a woodcutter's cottage. "I hope that these fears of hers are not based in reality."
"I would venture to guess that dear Hunty is capable of all manner of evil. His friends are nearly as deplorable." At that moment, voices could be heard on the stairs. Lady Clair and Lucy had rooms in this corridor, and it seemed that they were at last retiring for the night. "Shh." Nathan stepped over to ease the door closed, then motioned to Adrienne to sit down.
She decided to join him on the edge of the bed, whispering, "If we must be quiet, we may as well be close enough to speak."
He did not reply at once, but listened, dark head inclined, until the softly giggling guests passed his door. Then Nathan murmured, "Shall I infer that you were not... tempted by your evening with Lord Harms and his friends?"
"Actually... I was mildly amused by it all, for an hour perhaps, and then I couldn't wait to escape. Except for Sir Blake and Alistair, they all become very tedious the more they drink." Adrienne perceived just enough of a telltale glint in Nathan's eye to persuade her to add, "I must own, however, that Huntsford Harms is not without charm."
He bit the inside of his cheek but released the bait. The bed ropes shifted beneath them, tilting her closer to him. "You and I have another matter to discuss. We must formulate clear plans to capture Walter Frakes-Hogg. He will not tarry in Winchester for days on end, and with that in mind, we must act before he does. There really isn't an hour to waste."
"I have already told you that I will do whatever you ask. I love danger!" Her voice, though hushed, was charged with excitement.
Nathan thought that he had never known a woman with eyes as richly luminous as Adrienne's, but he was careful not to betray his weakness. "The object of this exercise is not to put you in danger, chit." One black brow arched. "That was not the service your father hired me to perform."
"You seem to invoke Papa's name only in moments of convenience."
"Perhaps I've been lax. We ought to remind ourselves of him more often."
She could feel the hard contour of Nathan's thigh through her nightclothes. When his grin flashed white in the flickering shadows, a chill skittered down her spine. Oh, how she longed to speak openly to him, beginning with the revelation that she'd been eluding her loving parents for as long as she could remember, and the more she was encouraged to behave properly, the more she felt the urge to run free. Instead Adrienne said, "My craving for adventure isn't related to my love and respect for my father and mother. But I'm not always certain they know that."
"I imagine your father understands you very well. And I hope that you know I will not put you in danger, however much you may beg me!" A twinkle lightened his eyes. "We may have to use you as bait to draw Frakes-Hogg into the open, but it won't go beyond that. You must promise to obey me, though!"
"You keep saying that, and I find it very tiresome."
"No doubt." He looked at her in a way that made her squirm.
"I should return to my room." When she started to rise, Nathan caught her hand and returned her to his side.
"Tomorrow we'll steal a few minutes after breakfast and discuss this matter more fully. Between now and then we must think of an excuse for you to go into Winchester when the time comes to put our plan into effect, and I want you to consider the matter of Walter Frakes-Hogg's motives."
"Why on earth should I waste my thoughts on him? He's a beast!"
"This is important. I am not sure I fully understand what he wants for his revenge against you. Is it merely that he's angry that you dared to rebuff his advances, and so means to pay you back by having his way with you, against your will?" Nathan released her hand, leaning back on his elbows, and the tick crunched softly under his weight. "Or is
the situation more complicated? Has his ego been sufficiently damaged that he wants to do you physical harm? Perhaps Frakes-Hogg has other concerns—like your deep affection for his daughters and your concern for their welfare. He may fear that you haven't given up. If he were not still worried that you could damage his reputation, why wouldn't he accept that you obeyed his threats and left London? Why has he followed you here?"
"Because he is the meanest sort of bully and enjoys tormenting those who are weak and defenseless!" Adrienne jumped up again, and this time Nathan let her go. When she looked back from the doorway, the sight of him lounging across the bed made her heart skip. The guttering candle flame only served to enhance the appeal of Nathan's long, ruggedly muscular body, the half-open shirt that revealed too much of his chest, the chiseled lines of his face, his ruffled black hair, and the smoldering power of his eyes.
"But, Adrienne, if that is true," he inquired, "why has Frakes-Hogg chosen to torment you? No woman in England could be less weak or defenseless!"
She realized that it was another of his gently sardonic jabs but decided to turn the rapier back on him. Her hand on the latch, Adrienne glanced back over her shoulder and parried, "I am pleased that you have taken my measure so accurately, Mr. Essex. It will make for fewer misunderstandings in future! As for Walter Frakes-Hogg, I can only assume that he paints me in a rosier light than you. But he isn't the first man to underestimate me—or the last, I'll wager! Good night, sir."
When the door closed behind her, Nathan Raveneau flipped over on his back. A smile spread over his face and he whispered, "Touche, chit. For now."
* * *
"Very pretty village you have here, old chap." Walter Frakes-Hogg strolled along Winchester's High Street in the company of a nervous Huntsford Harms. "Very quaint."
"Better than quaint." Hurrying along the cobbles, Harms argued, "Used to be a Roman city, y'know, and after that the Saxon capital of bloody England, until those thieving Normans came along and upset a perfectly good system."
"I say, it's a bit late to cry over that spilt milk, isn't it?" He eyed the pink-skinned young dandy through narrowed eyes. "Afraid someone will see us together? You haven't done anything wrong, Harms!"
"I like to be discreet, that's all!"
"Ah, yes. Discretion is your watchword." His tone dripped sarcasm that was lost on his companion. "Let's find a pub where we can have a bit of privacy, then. I could use a spot of brandy."
They continued in silence past a mixture of half-timbered Elizabethan buildings and more recently constructed bow-fronted shops. Reaching an old gabled inn, its battered sign proclaiming The White Ostrich, the men peered into its shadowed recesses.
"I perceive that the lonely tapster is in need of more patrons," Frakes-Hogg decided. "Little chance that anyone will see us here, hmm?"
Huntsford Harms followed him inside, sniffing in distaste. "I say, awfully gloomy, don't you agree? I was hoping for more cheerful surroundings."
"I thought you wanted to be discreet." Frakes-Hogg had already taken a brace-back chair. "At least it's cool in here. Here comes the waiter. Order yourself a nice pint and stop complaining."
The younger man obeyed, and when the frothy tankard arrived, he drank. Then he took snuff. Finally, fidgeting under Walter Frakes-Hogg's intent gaze, he burst out, "Confound it, you're staring as if I were a loose screw and you're waiting for me to climb on the table and make a cake of myself!"
"Not at all, Harms. In truth, my stare was admiring. I must have the name of your tailor; those pantaloons fit exactly as I would wish my own to do. And your walking stick—is it ebony? Very handsome. Every detail of your appearance is exquisite, including the arrangement of your cravat."
Huntsford swelled with pride. "Beau Brummell's valet showed this trick to Roland, my valet. It's deuced difficult though, and sometimes it takes an hour to get it right." Favoring his companion with a view of his profile, he added, "Do you know that, in London, they've taken to calling me the Tulip of Fashion? I did have a striking pair of powder-blue gloves, but my mother's wretched dog chewed them to bits and I can't get any more until I return to Town."
"A great pity." Frakes-Hogg leaned forward, his eyes as black as coal. "Let us speak of more serious matters. What do you know of Adrienne Beauvisage?"
"She seems quite charming, actually! Can't imagine what she could have done to you to make you go to all this trouble, even paying me to come down here and spy for you—"
"Do lower your voice!" Frakes-Hogg hissed.
Harms toyed nervously with the seals and fobs that dangled at his waist. "I just mean that it seems an elaborate and expensive plan, and of course I'm very glad for the chance to cancel my gambling debts, but I would hate to see any harm come to Miss Beauvisage."
"I don't give a damn what you think. Will you stand on principle and return to London—after returning the funds you have already received?" Frakes-Hogg paused for a sip of brandy, his face sharp as he waited for a response. "No? Let's get on with it then. Tell me about Adrienne. Does she keep to a regular schedule?"
He shrugged. "My mother's not exactly a model of punctuality. She's lazy, in a word. Adrienne just caters to Mummy's whims."
"What else?"
"She's been overseeing Mummy's mad plan to reorganize the library, and I know that she likes to read." Harms signaled for another pint of ale. "I'm rather taken with Adrienne myself. She joined my friends as a fourth for whist two nights ago, and she was bright and lovely. Quite a piece of audacity, in fact."
"If you harbor any notions toward Miss Beauvisage, romantic or otherwise, kindly dispel yourself of them," the older man replied coldly. "I have other plans altogether for that baggage."
"Do you know that they're on to you? Or at least they know someone's after her. She must be quality, or something like it, because her family's hired a hulking great fellow to guard her."
"What's his name?" The edges of his ears reddened.
"Essex, I b'lieve. Nathaniel? Perhaps."
"Black hair?"
"Very. Rather striking looks, but unpolished. Spectacles. And he wears clothing that appears to have been passed down from his father." Harms rolled his eyes. "Of course, what other sort of fellow would want that sort of employment? How could he be anything but bourgeois? I suppose we ought to be grateful that he can string words together."
"Does he appear to possess intelligence as well as brawn? And how does he get on with Adrienne?"
"I suppose he's passably intelligent, if arrogance is any indication. As for Essex and Adrienne, I really couldn't say. I have avoided him as much as possible." Harms drained his second tankard and yawned, deciding not to mention Lucy's outburst about Essex resembling the mysterious Scapegrace who had so intrigued London society. When she had taken a second look the next morning, with clear eyes, Lucy herself had agreed that it was laughable to imagine that the unfashionable, bespectacled Essex might be Nathan Raveneau, the Scapegrace.
"Kindly give me your attention," Walter Frakes-Hogg hissed through clenched teeth. Darkness was gathering outside and the tapster lit tallow candles. "I have better things to do than while away the days in this tedious hamlet. You were not sent to Harms Castle to drink and be merry, but to help me devise a plan to be alone with Adrienne Beauvisage. When you return today, you will turn all your admittedly meager mental powers toward achieving that goal." He stood up, looming above the Tulip of Fashion. "I will meet you in the nave of the cathedral at two o'clock on Thursday, and I fully expect you to be not only able to answer all my questions but also to have devised the plans I need."
Huntsford Harms slouched in his chair and stared at his very white hands. They were trembling ever so slightly. He thought of the two thousand pounds that Frakes-Hogg had already paid him and the even larger amount that he would receive when the other man's ends were met. It was hard not to feel beastly about turning Adrienne Beauvisage over to that villain, for God knew what purpose, but on the other hand, the money would help Harms pay off the
debts that had been choking him for months. One awful cad had actually threatened to call him out if he didn't pay up, and he couldn't aim a pistol to save his life.
The moneylenders already had half the valuables from the house in Cavendish Square, and he lived in constant fear that his mother would notice missing items. Furthermore, it was no good going to her for help, since she had already cut her staff to the bone and had barely a pound of accessible funds. Their fortune, such as it was, was in their land, and the houses and their contents.
Sighing, Huntsford realized that he really didn't have any choice but to obey Frakes-Hogg's instructions. The only question remaining was how he could ever devise the plot to deliver Adrienne Beauvisage. Would he have to knock Essex over the head?
"Waiter," he called, "I'll have one more pint, and perhaps a meal as well, since evening's upon us. What have you today?"
* * *
The next afternoon, the sunlight seemed burnished as twilight approached. In the library at Harms Castle, Adrienne finished her tea and looked over at Lady Thomasina. The old woman was feeding a biscuit to Angus, who placed the treat on his blue glove, held it between two paws, and chewed.
"He's very spoiled, isn't he?" she said when she noticed her companion's amused gaze.
"You know that he is, my lady." Adrienne smiled. "Isn't it a beautiful day? Can you smell the fragrance of the garden?" She wandered over to the window and pushed open the leaded casement. There, below her, was Nathan Essex, strolling through the overgrown boxwood maze.
"June is my favorite month, I think," Lady Thomasina agreed.
"Why don't you rest for a few minutes, and I'll dash outside and pick up a bouquet for your sitting room. So many flowers have begun to bloom just in the past day!"
"I do feel rather sleepy. Where is Hunty? If he returns, send him to me."
"Yes, my lady."
Out in the corridor, Adrienne lifted her skirts and hurried down the broad staircase, pausing in the conservatory to get a basket and shears. For two days she and Nathan had been searching for a moment alone to talk, but fate had conspired to keep them apart ever since the night she had visited his bedchamber. Emerging onto the terrace, she saw that he had walked over to a small apple tree. A nest with eggs in it lay on the ground, and Nathan sat back on his heels and took it gently in one strong hand.
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