Cloaked in Danger

by Jeannie Ruesch

  “I will do whatever is necessary to keep my family from getting hurt.”

  “She invited me on this stroll. Which is truly neither here nor there, since I will speak with whomever I wish.” She placed her hand over his with a gentle caress of her fingers. “Perhaps you would care to show me those darker walkways you mentioned?”

  “I think not.”

  She pulled her arm free, though the warmth of his hand lingered on her skin. “A pity the duke was not here this evening, then,” she said with a tinge of regret, as if she mourned the potential loss.

  “Why? Why would you want any sort of friendship with my sister while blatantly pursuing her betrothed? Are you that reprehensible?”

  “I can assure you, Ravensdale is not the man I’m looking for.”

  Chapter Six

  Adam drew back slightly. What the hell did she mean by that?

  “Then...what? Why were you in his rooms? In his study?”

  “We all have our secrets, Lord Merewood. I will share if you will. Secrets are meant to be shared, don’t you agree?” She glanced toward the sharp turn in the path ahead, her intent clear. She wanted to be led into the dark. She wanted...

  God, he wouldn’t think straight if he considered what she might be offering.

  What secret did she have that involved Ravensdale? And why was she studying Adam? Even worse, did that please him?

  “I won’t let you hurt my family.”

  “So your secrets involve your family?” She stepped toward him, invading his space,

  He stepped back, though it galled him. “Compromising situations may be your modus operandi, but do not attempt that with me. Or my sister’s fiancé.”

  “I am not trying to trap a husband,” she snapped.

  “Then you truly are an Original. Ariadne Whitney, the Mythological Woman Not in Search of a Husband.”

  “I did not say I wasn’t looking for one,” she corrected suddenly. “But I have no intention of trapping a husband.”

  She cocked her head and reached up to twirl a piece of stray hair, which Adam—idiot that he was—couldn’t help but focus on. Even though he’d reminded himself at least a dozen times a day that she was trouble, that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about how soft she’d felt lying underneath him. It hadn’t stopped the instantaneous response of his body. And damn it, he needed to stop thinking in this direction. He needed something to divert him from her incredibly kissable mouth, currently drawn in a thin, angry line.

  Husband. Marriage-minded. Trap.

  Yet it didn’t add up.

  Most husband hunters guarded their reputation with zealous intent. One misstep on Aria’s part could destroy any chance she had of finding a titled husband, yet she treated her reputation with no more care than a fleck of lint on her skirt.

  And the men she’d seemed most interested in thus far were far from interested in marrying a debutante.

  Did she just need a challenge?

  “What are you after?” He didn’t bother to hide his confusion.

  If he took her at face value, she was as shallow as she appeared. But something hid behind her focused attention, underneath the tense way she held herself.

  There was desperation there.

  “Were you there when Blythe and the duke met in March? Were you at her home in the country?”

  Alarm clanged in Adam’s head. This was not a random question, a simple curiosity. Miss Whitney’s entire body was coiled, near sprung and ready for battle. Her eyes were wide and fierce.

  A pursuit of Ravensdale. Befriending Blythe.

  A strong curiosity about Blythe’s past with her first husband.

  Dread pooled in his belly and gurgled up into his throat. The nightmare was over. They had buried the man. The past was the past, and he was going to keep it that way.

  He had to shut this down. Whether she had deeper purposes or was avidly gaining information to use to trap someone in his family into marriage, he needed to keep this woman away from the people he cared about.

  He looked toward the supper boxes. “If I’m not mistaken, I saw you come in with someone. I’ll escort you back to him. And I advise that this be the last time you interact with anyone in my family.”

  “Blythe said the duke was at her house. Were you there?”

  “Miss Whitney, I am offering a friendly warning.”

  “This is friendly? I should hate to see your bad side, then.”

  “Take my advice to heart, or you will tarnish your reputation and your father’s as well.”

  “My father?” She stepped back, startled. “What do you know about my father?”

  “Your father’s work depends on benefactors. I know. I am one, and I’m well acquainted with many others. I would be quite displeased to see my investments damaged by your ambition and the ruination of your reputation.” He didn’t give a whit about that, but mention of her father had charged the air surrounding them. He’d hit a trigger. “Be that as it may, I will be sure that your attempts at trapping a husband come to very public, scandalous light.”

  “And that is your mistake. I do not care a whit for my reputation.” The words were tossed like a challenge.

  The area around them suddenly filled with people strolling along. He stepped back, cursing himself for his stupidity. They were in public, and if her goal had been to make a scene, he had played into her hands perfectly.

  But damn it, he didn’t know what her goal was. Nothing about her made a lick of sense.

  “Good day, Miss Whitney.” Disgusted with himself, he turned to walk away.

  She closed the distance between them and lightly smacked a hand against his chest, curling her fingers on the lapels of his coat. The volume of whispers and twitters about them grew at the scandalous move, and Adam could feel the noose tightening about his neck. He jumped away from her heated touch.

  “Tell me about my father.”

  The question was so out of the blue, he reared his head back. “What?”

  “My father. Your business with him. Tell me. Now.” Her pleas were spoken through clenched teeth.

  “What would be the point now?” he asked.

  For whatever reason, that stunned her into silence. Adam took advantage and walked away, casually, as though nothing had happened. But his blood heated his skin, and his head had begun to pound.

  A large, dark-haired man passed by, his scowl directed at Adam. A sharp pang hit him in the chest. Was that the man she had arrived with? What did he mean to her?

  Not that it mattered.

  In fact, Adam wished him all the luck in the world. He would need it. For himself, he made a vow. He would stay far away from Miss Whitney. It didn’t matter if she was merely hunting him for marriage or hunting his family for some sort of revenge. She was unpredictable and dangerous.

  The fact that he battled the desire to turn around and kiss her senseless only added to his resolve.

  * * *

  Aria’s limbs had frozen.

  The man who knew something about her father’s disappearance walked away, and she couldn’t move. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw stones.

  She wanted to kill him.

  What would be the point now?

  He’d blatantly thrown that in her face, after telling her of his business connection with her father.

  Lord Merewood had all but confirmed his involvement.

  The crush of disappointment horrified her. She had hoped he wouldn’t be, not only for the sake of her burgeoning friendship with Lady Ashton. But because when he was in the room, she felt more alive, more aware than she could recall ever feeling. Because, somewhere deep inside her stupid, stupid heart, she had hoped this dance they had begun would continue.

  Now she knew he’d played a part in her fam
ily’s destruction.

  But it remained obvious he was not going to give up answers without a fight. So she would fight. She took a step to hurry after him.

  “Aria?”

  Speaking of war. She marshaled her reserves and sucked in a deep breath, before turning about. “Patrick. There you are.”

  A scowl was set deeply in his face. “Here I am? I had to come searching for you, and I find you arguing with another man? Who was that?”

  “Lord Merewood. He is Lady Ashton’s brother, and she had to run off unexpectedly. We were simply exchanging pleasantries.” She worked to control her uneven breath.

  “That did not look pleasant.” He didn’t stop as he approached, but wrapped his hand around her elbow to propel her along with him. “It looked rather serious. What is going on here? Who is that man to you?”

  Patrick’s grip was surprisingly firm. The sounds of the orchestra began to fill the air, but they were not headed toward a better view.

  “Mr. Wade...” she started, but he didn’t stop. A prickle of guilt filled her. He was angry, and he had reason to be. She had abandoned him and then made a spectacle of herself, after assuring him that she had no designs on that world.

  And it was time to let him know her intentions. The few minutes she’d spent in Lord Merewood’s company had sparked far more fire inside of her than Patrick had in months.

  “Patrick,” she said softly. They veered off the main path and passed right by a gas-lit pond into one of the lesser-traveled, dimly lit directions. These were frequent hiding spots for lovers, and it struck her that he might have a specific intent.

  Lovers’ Lane had always fascinated her, but mostly because she wanted to know what it felt like to be so overcome by passion, one would be willing to risk discovery for a kiss.

  But not here. Not with him.

  They stopped. Shadows melded with tree-shaded moonlight.

  “Ariadne.” He let go of her arm and stood with hands at his sides, in control. Still as a rock, in fact. “I believe I’ve made my intentions very clear. I’ve accompanied you on several outings. I have come to call upon you whenever possible. I have shared meals with your family. I do not believe I’ve been mysterious in any way.”

  A wave of prickly discomfort washed through her. “I—”

  “No, let me finish. I had hoped to wait until your father returned from his trip, but I am starting to wonder if that is wise. I care for you greatly, Aria.” He stepped a small bit closer. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “So full of life. You’re perfect.”

  She choked on a laugh. “I am far from perfect. As you well know each time I have trod upon your foot when we dance.”

  His fingers grasped a curl against her ear, rolling it until it wrapped around one finger. “You are perfect for me. I want you to be my wife.”

  Aria caught her breath, waiting for...something. She should be bursting with joy, with anticipation. Even an inkling of the tangible emotion she remembered between her parents.

  But she felt nothing. “I care about you very much. But—”

  “Something is wrong, I can tell.” He placed his hands on her upper arms. “You haven’t been acting yourself for months now. Getting involved with these people, attending parties you have never concerned yourself with. I’m worried about you. Marry me—let me protect you. Let me keep you safe.”

  Keep her safe? She shook her head. “I don’t need protecting. And I can’t marry you.”

  There. She’d said it.

  His hands curled around her back and pulled her to him, and before she could say a word, he pressed his lips against hers.

  She let it happen. Maybe it would spark something new, something she hadn’t felt before. She pressed her lips harder against his, wishing for one swirl of passion. His mouth slashed across hers, but other than the warmth of his lips, no other sensations arose.

  She wished it was Lord Merewood. And that only made her angry, sad.

  Finally, he pulled back and stared intently. “We’re good together.”

  “My father hasn’t returned, and I couldn’t agree to anything without him here, but it’s not even about that. I cannot marry you. I don’t love you that way,” she said as gently as she could. The words were harsh anyway.

  “You will. You need me. And I need you. You’ll see that eventually.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  He patted her arm. “When your father returns, we’ll talk about this again.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him the truth about her father, but the words refused to form. The invisible wall inside had grown to proportions rivaling the Great Wall of China. No matter how she tried, how she thought of the words, so simple, so exact—my father is missing—she couldn’t force them out.

  “It won’t matter,” she finally said. “It isn’t about him. This is about you and me. I care about you, but—”

  He put a finger to her mouth. “Shh. This is obviously not the right time, so I will wait.”

  “Waiting won’t change anything,” she emphasized.

  But he paid her little heed. They made it back to the well-lit portions of the gardens, and in minutes, people swirled about them. She brought the subject up as they rode back to her home. He patted her hand and said they’d speak on it later.

  How could you convince someone you weren’t going to marry him when he refused to listen?

  Chapter Seven

  The sun began to peek over the horizon while Aria waited for her carriage to be brought around.

  She had to admit defeat.

  She was not going to find Lord Merewood this evening, even though he had been in attendance at the party. In fact, he’d been at all five parties she’d attended over the last four days. He had slipped out of her grasp each time.

  Of course, she had made quite the spectacle of herself along the way, and the blatantly unwelcoming stares she received from departing guests this evening only confirmed her beliefs.

  She had gone too far.

  He’d left her with no other choice. She had first called upon Blythe, who was unreachable, attending to her ill soon-to-be stepchild. Then Aria attempted to call upon Lord Merewood, scandalous as that was according to Emily’s near swooning fit, to no avail. The blasted man had refused to see her.

  Tossing her pride into the gutter, Aria then attended every event she’d been invited to and acted the part of a love-struck ninny, asking about him everywhere.

  Every time, she was given a rhapsody of opinions about the match of Lady Ashton and her duke, since their love was “delicious talk indeed.” But no one knew anything for certain about Merewood’s whereabouts at that time, other than he was out of town.

  And this ball...well, she hadn’t even been invited to this one.

  Her fruitless efforts would be the gossip on everyone’s tongues come morning.

  Oh, right. It was morning.

  And the tongues were not waiting. Desperation sang a hearty tune in her head, for she knew what the stares and whispers meant. She was either one step away from ruin, or she’d already shoved herself off the edge.

  Emily had warned her. She’d said if Aria didn’t act the proper part around society, they would shun her. Invitations would cease. Those who had smiled and nodded at her would look the other way. To them, she wouldn’t exist. If she dared to show her face at another event she hadn’t been invited to, she would be ostracized.

  She had in fact, pinned all of her beliefs on Merewood. She bit her lip hard. What if she was wrong? What if he wasn’t involved? And why wouldn’t he talk to her, damn it?

  She ran a hand over her face. Time had run out. Her father was still missing, John was barely hanging on to life, and if she didn’t get answers, she stood to lose both the men who’d raised her.

  Ther
e was a constant pressure in her stomach as if someone stood behind her, pushing her onward toward a cliff and blocking her way of escape.

  The cloppity-clop of the horse’s hooves signaled the approach of the carriage.

  “Your carriage is here, miss,” a footman said needlessly. The bloody thing stood right in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. She glanced around at the crowd yet again and shook her head. There had to be something she could do, something she hadn’t thought of yet.

  Then, the crowd parted slightly.

  And there he was.

  Lord Merewood stood talking quietly with a friend. Aria clenched her jaw. Where in God’s name had he come from?

  Fury wrapped in desperation shoved her right over the edge of her limited patience. Any remaining threads of her control snapped like twigs. She looked up at the driver. “Wait here.”

  “Yes, Miss Aria.”

  One step, then another, and finally, she stood in front of him and Viscount Quinn, fighting the desperate desire to scream at him. “Lord Merewood, how wonderful to see you this evening.”

  His eyes widened as one might see in a deer before a lion. “Miss Whitney, what are you doing out here at this hour?” His looked up and down the street. “Alone?”

  “You have been avoiding me.”

  He squared his shoulders, then looked at the man watching them so avidly, he might as well have had paper and quill in hand to take notes. “If you’ll excuse us, Quinn.”

  The viscount waved a hand and moved inside.

  “How is it that each time I was told where to find you, you miraculously disappeared?”

  He continued to search around them. “You should not be here alone.”

  “I was with my chaperone, but she was tired and needed to leave early.” The fury had worked itself to Aria’s toes, and one foot began to tap. “Lord Merewood, we’ve danced around this long enough.”

  “I don’t believe we’ve danced at all. That is a splendid course of action to continue. Oh, look, my carriage has arrived. Good evening, Miss Whitney.”

  He strode away, leaving her openmouthed in shock. “You cannot walk away!”