A Taste of Seduction (4 page)

However, he could not bring himself to believe anything those eyes or lips said. He'd believed once before, and it had left a hole where his heart once rested in his chest.

Summoning the anger that was churning deep in his innards, he broke the spell and turned away, but as he did so, his grip on the edge of the little chair must have been too tight, for in the next second the chair splintered to pieces under him, and he fell with a thud to the floor, landing on his arse.

A hush settled over the room until Sebastian let out a bark of laughter. Then the ladies dissolved into fits of giggles.

Hadley felt his face heat, and he would not look at Evangeline. What made it worse was that Helen raced to his aid, offering her hand. He picked himself up and bent to see the pile of broken wood and torn fabric at his feet.

“Are you hurt?” Helen asked urgently.

“Only my pride.” He smiled down at her concerned face. “The chair is only good for kindling now.”

“No one cares about the chair as long as you are unhurt,” she replied.

Christian came and patted him on the back. “Leave that mess. What on earth made you sit on such a dainty piece of furniture in the first place?”

Hadley glanced over at the women, all laughing behind their hands, and had to admit he must look a fool. He would have laughed too, but having Evangeline present to see him fall was mortifying.

Christian followed his stare and lowered his voice. “I must admit, the ladies can be an intimidating bunch. I swear, inviting Lady Evangeline was none of my doing. I tried to tell Serena it was a bad idea.”

“Very bad idea,” Hadley replied.

The rest of the men rose, along with the ladies, who were warmly greeting Evangeline and Isobel as if they were old friends. God damn it, this smelled of Marisa's doing. She'd asked him about Evangeline a few weeks ago, and he hadn't even known she'd been widowed or that she was in London. Nor had Marisa even met Evangeline at that stage. Now it looked as though they were close friends.

Evangeline tended to have that effect on people.
Until she stabbed them in the back,
he thought darkly.

Hadley made his way to Arend's side. “You know Serena is going to expect me to escort Evangeline in to dinner.”

“It's looking like they have some plan in mind. Good luck, my friend.”

Hadley grabbed Arend's arm. “Let me escort Isobel in to dinner.”

“No argument from me. Isobel sets my teeth on edge.”

“Oh, and I suspect the ladies will try and seat me near to Evangeline, so you must ensure you are sitting beside her.”

Arend glanced across at Serena and then looked at Hadley with pity. “How are we going to stop Serena telling us whom we must escort?”

An arm slipped through Hadley's. “If I may impose, I'd love you to escort me in to dinner, my lord. I'm sure Arend can handle two ladies.” Helen smiled up at him reassuringly. “I told my sister this was not a good idea. I knew you would not be pleased with Lady Evangeline in attendance.”

Not pleased? Hell would have to freeze over twice before he wanted to spend any time in Evangeline's company.

“Thank you, Helen, for being the sensible young lady you are. I would be honored to escort you in to dinner.” Hadley placed his hand over hers where it rested on his arm.

Dinner was called, and before Serena could direct partners, Helen announced that Hadley was escorting her in, and that Arend would be delighted to escort both Lady Evangeline and Lady Isobel.

With that, Helen allowed him to lead her into the dining room. He took the seat on her left, at the end of the table, so that only Helen sat beside him. Christian would be at the head of the table, on his other side.

It took all of a few minutes for Hadley to understand he'd made an enormously stupid mistake: Evangeline took the chair opposite his.

At least if she had been sitting beside him he wouldn't have had to look at her.
This must be what hell was like,
he fumed.

“Good evening, my lord. After your, ah, accident with your tiny chair, I never got an opportunity to greet you.”

Like a man lost in the desert under blazing sun, his tongue seemed to have swelled in his throat.

A smile that would dazzle a blind man spread over her face at his lack of response. “Is this how you greet an old friend?”

“We were never friends.” As soon as the bitter words left his mouth he cursed under his breath; he'd been hoping to ignore her, pretend she didn't exist. He didn't want to show how she affected him.

Hurt appeared in her eyes and quickly vanished, replaced with anger.

“I had been hoping to see you privately, but you have not been in town of late.”

“I had pressing personal business, and I can assure you, madam, I am not the least bit interested in why you have come to town.”

This time there was no hurt, only anger in her eyes. Good; he'd rather have her angry than hurt. And that thought annoyed him. Why should he care if she was hurt? She hadn't cared how much she hurt him all those years ago.

“I thought I was at least entitled to an explanation.” Her voice was hard and cold. She'd never sounded like this before. What explanation? He was the one who deserved an explanation. She had money, she was titled, and she was still so beautiful that it hurt to look at her.

“Some things are best left in the past,” he added more kindly, trying to make her understand that she was an interlude from years gone by and that he was determined to ensure she stayed in his past.

“I deserve to know why,” she insisted.

He had no idea what she was going on about. What did she need to know? She had left him.

Thankfully, Helen chose that moment to put her hand on his arm. “Hadley,” she said a voice she'd never used on him before. It was low, seductive, almost lyrical, and his eyebrow rose in surprise. Little Helen was growing up. He tried to think how old she must be now; coming up to eighteen, he thought.

He looked at her as if he had not seen her before. She was a beautiful young woman. Glossy fair hair was intricately dressed with fine pearls. She wore no necklace, but a long curl hung seductively over her shoulder, emphasizing her graceful neck, and drawing a man's eye to her abundant cleavage. Her lovely hazel eyes twinkled with intelligence. She loved to read and had an enquiring mind. He glanced down and with a start noticed bosoms that would spark any red-blooded man's interest. He quickly looked away.

“Hadley,” she repeated, “there is a wonderful new exhibit at the British Museum. I was wondering, due to the circumstances we find ourselves in, if I could rely on you to accompany me tomorrow afternoon. Sebastian won't leave Beatrice's side, and it's dangerous for me to go alone.” She batted her eyes. She was flirting with him.

Helen had never been so forward before. He supposed it was to defend him against Evangeline, who to his annoyance seemed rather amused by Helen's behavior. But then, why would she be jealous? She had shown him how little regard she held for him by marrying her viscount.

A cold hand wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed.

“I would be honored to escort you, Helen.” A tinge of worry made him shift in his chair when he saw the look of pure happiness on Helen's face. This was just an act, wasn't it? Helen even flashed a smug look at Evangeline, who merely inclined her head.

Silence hung in the air, as uncomfortable as his fragile little chair had been.

Finally Arend, who was seated to Evangeline's left, asked, “How long do you intend to stay in London, my lady?”

“Please, call me Evangeline,” she told Arend before turning to look at Hadley. “My stay depends on how long it takes me to catch up with old…ah, acquaintances. I have some business with one in particular.” She finally turned to Arend and added, “I won't be able to leave until I have done so.”

Hadley bit his tongue. He wanted to say
Then you will be here for a long time, because I have nothing to say to you,
but that would have seemed childish.

Instead he asked, “And once you have caught up with your acquaintances, will you be returning to Scotland?”

“That depends.”

When nothing further was forthcoming, he prodded, “On what?”

“On how our conversation goes.”

There, she'd said it. She'd told Hadley Fullerton exactly why she was here. She could not for the life of her understand his coldness toward her. If anyone should be bitter, it was she. She'd spent five years in misery, waiting every day for him to rescue her, but he'd never come.

Love obviously meant something completely different to him. She would have moved heaven and earth to find him if he had suddenly gone missing.

Before condemning him, she would at least give him the opportunity to tell her why—why had he abandoned her to such a horrible fate.

Hadley tried to pretend he didn't understand her meaning, but it was there in his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. She had blue eyes too, but hers were light blue, whereas his were deep blue, as deep as an ocean. She used to love how they burned for her when he held her in his arms, when he made love to her, when he swore he couldn't live without her.

It appeared he could live without her very well.

She tried to ease the pain in her chest by drawing in a few quick breaths. She'd been widowed for twelve months, three days, and fifteen hours, yet he still had not had the decency to write to her.

She had hoped he'd explain his behavior of five years ago. How does a man profess such undying love, make love to you as if he can't live unless he has you, and then not even attempt to find you?

Not even when she'd begged him in her letters. She prayed he'd received her letters.

She swallowed back the tears that wanted to fall the minute she'd seen him across the drawing room. Now thirty, he looked the same. The years had been kind to him. He still looked like the handsome twenty-five-year old lord who'd asked for her first dance at her neighbor's country ball. That had been the moment their relationship had become more.

As soon as he'd taken her in his arms for the waltz, she'd known he was the one. He was her future, her life.

Only, her life had not turned out how she had imagined. Far from it.

He didn't reply to her bold statement. So she added, “Nothing to say? How surprising.”

Hadley's chair scraped back, and he stood, throwing his napkin onto the table. “Pardon my manners. If you'll excuse us, I'd like a private word with Lady Evangeline.”

Christian said, “You may use my study,” as he looked accusingly at his wife, as if to say
I warned you.

Hadley then stood behind her, and she sighed and allowed him to pull out her chair so she could stand. She addressed Serena, the hostess. “Please forgive me. I did not mean to ruin your lovely dinner.”

Serena smiled warmly and assured her she had not ruined anything, but Evangeline could barely make out her words over the pounding of her pulse. Forcing a relaxed smile, she preceded Hadley from the room.

Neither of them spoke as he virtually marched her into Christian's study. He closed the door with a deafening thud. With knees trembling she sank onto a high-backed wing chair obviously made for a man, because her feet barely touched the ground unless she moved to sit on the very edge. Her dinner would be getting cold, she worried; then she realized what an odd thought that was. The rise of emotions churning inside her made the idea of continuing to eat dinner unpalatable anyway.

She had thought herself prepared to face Hadley, but she had not been expecting such open hostility or, worse still, indifference.

She'd dreamed of this day every night for more than five years, but never in her dream had she felt so afraid.

Her marriage had been the most terrifying, heartbreaking, and soul-destroying experience of her life. In the space of an hour, not only had she lost the man who owned her heart, but she'd found herself utterly defenseless against her mother's dastardly plan. A tear almost escaped as she recalled how her lady's maid offered to smuggle a note to Hadley. She'd written the note, of course, but he never came.

It was as if he'd washed his hands of her. And was glad of it.

She'd arrived in London three days ago. She'd come to London to finalize her son's inheritance, and to see if Hadley was man enough to tell her to her face that she'd been mistaken. That he had never loved her as he professed.

His rejection, more than her forced marriage, had left her broken, her dreams shattered in fragments of longing and hope.

It was a fragment of hope that had brought her south to London. She wanted Hadley to say the words to her face, to tell her his love had faded, for she didn't believe his indifference. But having now met him, she had her answer.

How foolish to continue to love him all these years when he had obviously never loved her to begin with. He'd been infatuated with her, had lusted after her, perhaps—but not love.

He'd haunted her waking moments and held center stage in her fondest dreams. The memories of his lovemaking—and it was lovemaking; what her husband did to her had taught her that—had sustained her through the nights of terror when Viscount Stuart would come to her bed.

Hadley's touch had always set her soul alight, sending intense, desperate, wild need streaming over her. She ached for his caress, for the indescribable pleasure he had given her.

Why had he deserted her?

The man pacing the room in front of the fire seemed so different, as if a stranger. Being this close to him, seeing him again, remembering his kiss, his touch, his smile, roused an aching inside her for what could have been. Anger was her leash.

Why had he deserted her? She did not deserve that.

It was the tense, hard flash in his eyes that made her want to curl up into a ball and cry. Her hands clenched into fists. Well, he could be as annoyed as the bloody king, for all she cared. It was obvious there was to be no happy ending for her. He clearly cared not a jot. But she would not leave here without answers.

She raised her head and squared her shoulders. Why would he not say something? He simply stood before the fire, his slow appraisal sending prickling heat through her body. His gaze brushed over her bosom, traveling down to take in her waist (which had, to her shame, thickened over the years since the birth of her son), and finally resting on her hips before racing back up to her blushing face.