Cloaked in Danger (15 page)

She would wait there for Adam.

If they didn’t learn any answers within a week, her father would be declared dead. The list of names was all she had, and when each name had been checked off, she had nothing left to go on. Nothing to find.

Nothing to hope for.

Perhaps there had never been anything to begin with. Adam’s words—that she only worked to keep herself busy—wouldn’t stop repeating in her head.

What if this quest was naught but distraction?

Was it grief? Denial? She had refused the possibility of any other outcome than her father returning home. She’d had to. The pain, the sadness and the stark loneliness that rose up whenever she thought of both of her parents being gone threatened to overwhelm her.

So instead, she fought. She hadn’t had to face the truth then, if the truth was what she made it.

The lure of letting go called, and she hated herself for it. She’d grown so weary, so tired of having her emotions stretched thin on this endless rack of torture. Round and round she went. Each day, the memory of her father’s face blurred more and her hope shattered inch by inch.

She had to let go.

Before it destroyed her.

A large, meaty palm slapped against her mouth and yanked her head back.

Pain exploded across Aria’s face. Before she could react, arms of steel surrounded her. She struggled to breathe around the hand.

The man dragged her back into the bushes.

Fight
,
Aria.
Fight!

Her mind grew fuzzy. She twisted, turned, struggling to find air, battling the bonds that help her so firmly. Light and dark shadows edged her eyesight, and she fought the urges to succumb to the darkness.

Finally the hand lifted and she sucked in gasps of air. With the buoy of energy, she twisted in her captor’s arms in time to see an ugly sneer, a face she didn’t recognize.

Then his fist smashed against the side of her face.

Chapter Seventeen

Over an hour later, Adam strode down the street toward Aria’s house.

She hadn’t been at their spot. He’d walked the length of the park three times. Found nothing.

And given what he’d been told by John, Aria’s uncle, Adam worried that Aria’s faith had run out.

John had made it clear he would protect the girl he thought of as his family until his dying breath, and upon that breath, he needed to know that Aria would be with someone else who would protect her with
his
dying breath.

John had also asked him to help her adjust to her father’s death.

Hearing John’s story, hearing the situation from someone who had been there firsthand, Adam found it difficult to believe Gideon was still alive. But he had no idea how to tell Aria that.

Her hope was all she ran on, and if they yanked that away from her, God knows what she might do.

When Adam had been told of Gideon’s death, his only thought—his only need—had been to get to her side. To hold her, to be with her. Had someone suggested to him it was possible to feel so fiercely about a woman in such a short amount of time, he would have scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all.

And he would have ended up eating his own words.

At the Whitney residence, he gave a solid knock.

Immediately, Emily Whitney filled the doorway. “Lord Merewood.” She frowned, straining her head to look past him. “Where is Aria?”

Alarm rang in his ears. “She isn’t here?”

Emily shook her head. “She has not returned since she left for her walk earlier. I believed she was still with you.”

“I went to the park to meet her, but she had already left.”

“She has likely wandered off to plan her next move. It is not unusual for her.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach absently. “She did send her acceptance for the Pennybrooke ball invitation this evening. Perhaps you can speak with her there. Please forgive my manners. Would you like to come in?”

Adam rubbed his chilled hands together. “No, thank you. I’ll head home.”

Emily nodded. “Very well. Good night, then.”

“Of course.” With that assurance, he moved down the steps and walked the few blocks to his townhouse. Unease prickled along his spine as he sprinted up the steps to his front door. He thrust it open, the warmth that flowed around him welcome against his skin. With a quick glance at the empty side table where calling cards were left, Adam continued into the corridor.

“Higgins!” he called out amidst the clopping of his heavy footsteps.

The man appeared in front of him without any sign of where he had come from. “You bellowed, my lord?”

“Has Miss Whitney been here this evening?”

Higgins shook his head. “No, my lord. I have not seen her.”

Adam’s stomach clenched. Where had she gone?

“However, Mr. Calebowe is currently being entertained in the parlor by the dowager Countess, if you wish to make an appearance.”

“What?” This was the last thing he needed.

“Mr. Calebowe is currently—”

“I bloody well heard you the first time, Higgins,” Adam said as he turned on his heel.

“Then perhaps one might not ask for a reoccurrence of the words.”

Too worried to engage in their sparring, Adam ignored Higgins’s spritely response and moved through the open doors of the parlor. He stopped.

There, on the same couch, sat his mother next to Mr. Calebowe, their hands intertwined, their gazes locked.

“Mama.”

Hypatia looked up, a flushed smile lighting her face in a way Adam had not seen in years. Not since before his father had died.

The comparison made his blood run cold.

“Adam, dear! I am so glad you’ve returned home.” She giggled.
Giggled
. “Please, come and sit. I want to introduce Franklin.”

“I don’t have the time, Mama. I need to find Aria.”

Hypatia waved a hand in the air. “You’ll see her this evening, I am certain. Please, Adam. It is quite important that you be introduced properly.”

“And why is that?” he said as he took slow steps toward them. Adam leaned against a chair, unwilling to give up the advantage of height.

Hypatia’s smile widened. “One thing at a time.” Adam’s gaze drifted downward to where her hands were still clasped by Calebowe’s grip. “My dearest son, Adam, Earl of Merewood, may I introduce Mr. Franklin Calebowe.”

Adam gave a curt nod of his head. “Mr. Calebowe.” He stood up. “If I may, Mama, I have to—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Adam, sit down. You can spare ten minutes, for I have something rather important—-and perhaps a little shocking, I imagine—to tell you.”

“Please, let me?” Mr. Calebowe interjected. “It is only right, as I should have done this very thing years ago but was too stubborn and bullheaded.”

Tension forced Adam’s back up as Mr. Calebowe turned toward him.

“My lord, I imagine this will come as quite a shock. I only hope you may understand that this woman, your mother, has held my heart for many years. While I have not been a part of her life, she has been a part of mine. She never left my soul. So it is my great respect and adoration for her that compels me to ask for your permission to marry her.”

Adam stared at him. He couldn’t form words. He couldn’t think beyond—marry his mother? Was the man daft? He’d been gone for thirty years, and within a week of his return and one letter later, he was compelled to propose?

Adam turned a red-hued gaze on his mother, shocked to see her expression hopeful and joyous. Images flashed through his head, of Blythe’s hopeful, joyous flush of first love after meeting Thomas Ashton. That same expression as she said her wedding vows, only to be devastated a mere hour later as she realized the man she loved had left her. Disappeared. On their wedding day.

He would not see another of his family destroyed.

“Get out.”

Calebowe blanched. “I beg your pardon?”

“Get out of my house. I will not allow you to take advantage of my mother.” His last words were a roar, and the heat of anger swirled inside until it filled his throat like a raging river, threatening to spill over.

“Adam, you will not speak to Franklin this way!” his mother cried. Calebowe stood, and Hypatia followed, her hand on his arm to hold him at her side. “You do not have to leave. My son is being atrocious, and he will apologize for his behavior.” She glared at Adam. “Now.”

“I will not apologize, Mama. And I will not allow you to make this mistake.”

“I do not need your permission. This was a courtesy Franklin wished to extend to you. It was not a request. I am marrying Franklin, and you cannot stop this.”

Adam turned to the man. “How much will it take?”

Calebowe reared his head back. “What?”

“How much? I shall have a bank draft drawn for you posthaste. Name the sum—it shall be yours if you leave and never darken this door again.”

“Adam!” His mother’s cry was filled with hurt. “Stop this at once.”

“It is all right, ‘Patia. Your son is protecting you against a man he knows nothing about. I do not blame him.” Calebowe tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and met Adam’s gaze squarely. “However, without attempting to sound crass, I do not need your money. I only want her, as I have wanted her since we were children. In time, I hope you will see that, for now that she’s forgiven me, I do not intend to let her go again.” He held Hypatia’s hand to his face and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I shall take my leave. But I will come back tomorrow.”

“See that you do,” Hypatia said through a tear-laced voice. As he left, Adam’s mother turned to him, the full force of her fury blazing. Her hands shook as she tried to contain herself. “I am appalled at your behavior. How could you act that way?”

“How could you assume I would act any other way? For God’s sake, you have only been in communication with him for mere weeks!”

“I have known him my entire life. And that is neither here nor there. If I choose to marry a man, it’s my choice. Not yours.”

“I promised Papa I would protect his family. That includes you. I failed with Blythe, and I will not fail again.”

Hypatia shook her head. “You believe you have some responsibility to make certain that we live according to what you feel is acceptable, but life is not so simple, Adam. You cannot protect us by controlling us. Had you acted like the boorish ass you were a moment ago when Thomas had called upon Blythe, do you truly believe that would have solved the problem?”

“She would not have married him had I disapproved.”

“Or perhaps she would have found another way or gotten into a worse situation. She was in love, and Blythe would be the first to tell you there is no reasoning with a person in love.”

“Are you telling me you are in love with Calebowe?” The very idea had him turning for the spirits, where he poured a liberal dose.

“Your father is gone, Adam.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“No, but it is what you mean. Because Franklin came before him, if he also comes after him, do you fear that negates what your father meant to me? That I could not have loved him if I loved Franklin? Yes, Franklin is back in my life and those feelings have been rekindled, but it does not mean your father wasn’t the love of my life.”

“Mama, you may have known the man once, but you also said he left you without warning. He abandoned you and decided to show up thirty years later.”

“I’m well aware of our history, thank you.”

“You cannot trust him. And should you choose to anyway, I will not. I will not make the same mistake again.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t your mistake to make, son. It’s mine, and I don’t see it as one.” She turned her back and moved toward the door, only to stop a moment and glance back. “Be happy for me, Adam.”

How could he protect her when she wouldn’t let him? “I need to answer my own questions first. I need to know more about him.”

“Then you should have asked him.” With a sad, disappointed look, she turned and left him alone, staring at the empty glass in his hand.

He drained the last remaining drop. He had set his investigators to learn what they could about Franklin Calebowe, but it would take time. The man had indicated he’d been in America most of the years past. The voyage there and back alone would take months, then whatever time it took to uncover the facts of his life. Adam simply didn’t have the luxury of waiting.

He would have to find another way to stop this. He had to make his mother see reason. As Adam set down the glass, he remembered why he’d come home.

Aria.

His stomach twisted. It did not settle with him that she’d not been at the park. She had known he was waiting. Emily said it was customary for Aria to disappear, but Adam knew she had a goal—and she had been backed into a corner as far as her time line went.

Adam had firsthand knowledge of what she would do when she was on a mission. Scandal had nipped at her heels the entire time and ultimately caught them both. But now? She was impetuous on a good day.

Adam rolled his neck to ease the coils of tension that wound around his shoulders. There was only two names left on Aria’s list, and Adam had a sinking feeling she was out for blood.

Chapter Eighteen

She wasn’t at the ball.

Adam searched the crowd in the Pennybrooke’s ballroom yet again, frustration mounting as he still hadn’t found the glossy black curls or the sassy smile he needed to see.

The two remaining men on her list, the Earl of Dunlevy and the Duke of Cantonbury were here tonight. Dunlevy danced among the debutantes, obviously looking for a wealthy bride to help solve his gambling debts. The duke, true to form, stayed in the game room playing cards in efforts to avoid being in the same room with his wife
and
his mistress.

If they were here, Aria should be here. By all accounts, she should be frothing at the mouth to get her hands on the bloody nobles.

Adam felt a presence next to him. A slight twist of his head and he saw matching height, dark hair...Wonderful. Nothing like making a bad night worse. “Ravensdale.”

“Merewood.” Blythe’s betrothed stared out among the dancers, but they stood in silence for a number of minutes, until finally, Ravensdale said quietly, “She’s not here, is she?”

“If you mean Blythe, no.”

“I am referring to Miss Whitney. Blythe told me she has disappeared.”

He disappeared
,
Adam.
Without a trace.
That doesn’t just happen.

Aria’s words about her father echoed like a mocking reminder. Adam didn’t believe in coincidence.

“You expected her here tonight?” Ravensdale asked.

“Yes.”

“She might still show.”

It finally dawned on him that Ravensdale was trying to offer his support. When Adam had been anything but supportive of even a footstep regarding Ravensdale, why would he care?

“Blythe mentioned two particular men of interest to Miss Whitney. Cantonbury and I are somewhat acquainted,” Ravensdale said.

Adam’s gaze swung toward him. “Friends?”

The duke lifted a shoulder. “He won’t be standing up for me at the wedding, if that’s what you mean. But we’ve voted on similar sides in the House. Played a few hands at White’s. If there is something you need to know of him, I might be of service.”

The tendons in Adam’s jaw jumped as he clamped down on his teeth to avoid making any comments. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop the wedding, Blythe had made that clear.

But in any other situation, Adam wouldn’t ask the man for a damn thing.

“I need to know of Cantonbury’s whereabouts these past months,” Adam finally told him begrudgingly. “The man she is looking for was in Egypt when her father disappeared.”

Ravensdale nodded. “I feel the urge to play some cards.” Without waiting for an answer, he moved in the direction of the duke.

Which left the earl. Adam let his gaze drift about the room until it settled on Dunlevy, who stood paying court to the very wealthy Dowager Countess of Blighdale and her daughter.

Dunlevy was slightly taller than Adam, but gangly and with the most unfortunate bushy eyebrows that literally overtook his face.

Where was Aria? She should be here, taking outrageous chances and shredding her entire reputation with every leap to gain her end.

He glanced left and blinked at the sight of Cordelia dancing in the arms, for the brief time the current country dance allowed, of Mr. Melrose. Adam shook his head. She was matter-of-fact about her ambition for a title and wealth, and yet she spent time with a man who offered neither. He would never understand his sister.

A flash of yellow caught the corner of his eye, and Adam turned slightly.

Through the mill of dancers, he saw her.

At least, he saw the top of her head. Dark, curly hair amassed in a mix of smoothed ringlets.

Relief coursed through him as he stepped in her direction. He would stay by her side until the evening was over, and sit upon her if necessary to keep her out of trouble.

“Ouch!”

Adam looked down at the woman bending down to inspect the foot he’d trod upon. “My apologies,” he said absently and looked back in the direction of where he’d seen Aria.

Through the sea of brunettes and blondes, he caught sight of the near-black curls once again and continued forward. Adam sidestepped and maneuvered around the crowd that had tripled in the last thirty seconds. Had everyone decided to descend upon the dance floor?

“I say, watch your step!” someone called out to him.

Aria was getting harder to keep track of. Without even a pretense of politeness, he plowed through the crowd and ignored the affronted yelps. He reached the garden doors and swiveled on his heel.

Nothing. She must have gone into the garden.

The doors opened easily and a gust of chilled evening air surrounded him. No one stood nearby, so he moved with long strides around the bend of the house. No sign of an alluring, infuriating woman with dark curls and a yellow gown.

“She has to be here,” he muttered.

She hadn’t fluttered into the air like a bird. He continued, noting the open windows into the house. He passed the window of the card room, where Ravensdale sat at a table with the duke and a few others, cigar in one hand, cards in the other.

Before he knew it, he was back on the terrace and into the crowd of people. Their laughter grated on the frayed edges of his nerves, and if he saw one more pointed look in his direction, he might be tempted toward violence.

Ah! A flash of yellow.

Adam bowled through the crowd, moved into a sprint. Aria began to slip out of sight, so he reached out and took hold of her arm.

“I beg your pardon!” The woman twirled about as he pulled, and at the indignant, attractive face he saw, he immediately let go.

“Damn it!” he snapped.

The girl, barely old enough to be up so late, sucked in a gasp and her eyes grew round as saucers. Small twitters about them let Adam know that he was being avidly watched.

“My apologies,” he muttered to the woman before turning on his heel to head back outside. He needed air. He needed...

Damn it, he needed to find her so he could set his world to rights again. He did not like not knowing where she was or what trouble she might be brewing.

“It’s not the duke.”

Adam snapped his gaze up and then looked back into the darkness of the gardens beyond the terrace rails. “How do you know?”

“His whereabouts are confirmed and substantiated,” Ravensdale said as he took a spot next to him and leaned on the rail, “He spent the early months with his wife’s family, at his mother-in-law’s bedside. She died last month.” He paused. “Where did Miss Whitney get this list from, anyway? She’s gone through every member of nobility and confirmed his whereabouts?” Ravensdale sounded skeptical.

Adam might have questioned the exact same thing, but he’d never admit it now. “It was a list of investors.”

“Hardly scientific, but a place to start, I imagine.”

“Aria is not an idiot.”

“I already ascertained that, as she managed to get out of my study at our betrothal party without Blythe or me being the wiser to her true purpose.”

Adam stiffened. “You knew about that?”

“Not until recently. Last night, in fact,” he muttered, “when your sister—who, by the way, enjoys knowing something I do not ever so much—told me.”

At mention of Blythe’s name, a tick jumped in Adam’s jaw.

“Blythe also mentioned that you thought I had arranged to meet with Miss Whitney in my rooms that night and questioned her about it.”

“I don’t want to discuss this now.” Not when his temper was at its breaking point, and the idea of a good, old-fashioned brawl held tremendous appeal.

“Blythe would prefer your blessing before our wedding, and I would prefer my brother-in-law not trying to undermine my marriage by convincing my wife not to trust me, so we will discuss this. Now is as good a time as any.”

Adam opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He should walk away. He should—

No. He shouldn’t. He swiveled around until he was eye to eye with the man. “You almost got her killed.”

“I am acutely aware of that.” Ravensdale’s voice was grim. “It haunts me daily, imagining what she went through when Thomas held a gun to her head.”

“I watched what she went through. You knew Thomas was alive when you showed up at Rosemead. Even after you asked her to marry her, you said nothing. You knew he was dangerous and you said nothing.”

“I was trying to protect her. I went about it wrong. I believed getting Thomas out of her life was the way to do that.” He gave a short shake of his head, his face drawn tight. “I should have done a lot of things differently.”

“Damn right, you should have. She would have been better off without anyone from your family in her life,” Adam snapped.

“Perhaps that is true. But I can assure you she will never be without me again. I will protect Blythe with my life should it come to that.”

Adam stiffened. “Is there something else you haven’t told her? A reason she would need your protection?”

“Goddamn it, Merewood. Enough is enough. She is going to be my wife, and you’ll bloody well live with it.”

Adam took the few inches between them in one stride, until he stood toe-to-toe with the man.

Ravensdale jerked his chin back. “Will this settle it? If you get in a few clips, can we move on?”

“It would feel damn good.”

“Then I give you leave, Merewood. Take your best shot. If this is how we must settle it, so be it. This time, however, I will fight back.”

The temptation gnawed at Adam as it always did whenever he came face-to-face with Ravensdale, which proved irritatingly often. He’d given in to that temptation once before, at their club, when his family had first arrived in London to discover that Ravensdale had betrothed himself to someone else. Blythe had been devastated, and Adam had wanted to kill the bastard.

He’d wanted to give in to the urge another time, oddly enough in this very spot at a different ball the Pennybrookes had thrown, on yet another occasion Ravensdale had done something to make Blythe cry.

Tears were his downfall, Adam knew. Any time a woman he cared about cried, he felt like he must right the wrongs of the world to stop it.

But tears would be the least of his worries if the next time Blythe saw her fiancé, he sported bruises and cuts from a public brawl—at the Earl of Pennybrooke’s home no less. As Adam’s mother was already upset, his home would become a veritable cage filled with irate females.

Adam looked around them, noting that the room had gone dramatically quiet for such a large crowd.

This exchange would be gossip fodder in every call paid come morning. Adam had a feeling that an icy storm would be heading his way whether he took the punch or not.

However, perhaps he could earn a measure of forgiveness for behaving himself.

“As much as I regret this, I must decline.” And did that regret sting.

Ravensdale lifted a shoulder in careless disregard, then let out a sigh. “Thank God. Blythe would refuse to speak to me for weeks should we come to blows again.”

Adam popped his head up. “Again? She knows about our...conversation at the club?”

“God, no. She considers our last exchange here at Pennybrooke’s close enough to violence to count.” He snorted in disgust. “I didn’t get as much as a shove in.”

Adam opened his mouth to retort and then glimpsed Lord Dunlevy heading toward the entrance. “We’ll be certain to find another time for that shove,” he said and strode into the mix of people.

“I look forward to it,” Ravensdale muttered behind him.

Adam paid a scant more attention to people’s feet, in hopes of avoiding them, but still managed to hear a few yelps along his path to the front door. If Dunlevy was leaving, Adam would be right behind him.

It was time to face facts: Aria was not showing up.

Which likely meant that she’d taken more drastic measures. Given her penchant for trouble, she could... Ah hell, Adam had no idea what she would do.

Break into the man’s house? Throw herself in front of his carriage? God only knew.

He stopped in the corridor and stood quietly, the other man a few feet away, as they both waited for their overcoats to be delivered. Once they were bundled, the front door was opened and Adam followed Dunlevy outside.

He would get the answers. One way or another.

* * *

Every muscle in her body screamed in pain, in need of movement. Aria lay curled in a ball, bound hand and foot.

She wiggled and tried to pull free, but no amount of pressure loosened the bonds. The jarring all around her and the clop of horse hooves told her she was traveling.

She forced her eyes open, tried to focus the blurry images in front of her.

A carriage?

With every bounce, she groaned.

God, her head ached. Everything ached.

And that smell...pungent enough to sting her nose and with a foulness that made her stomach roll. Was it her? Hours had gone by. Or had it only been minutes? Or God forbid, days? Why was her head so fuzzy she didn’t even know time?

There had been the tiniest glimmer of light through the slats in the wood. Now there was nothing except dark. Blurry circles danced in her eyes and she fought to keep them open.

She had to get out. Had to see where she was. What had happened.

But the edges slunk in closer, like a blanket surrounding her.

Darkness.

* * *

The carriage ahead slowed to a stop in front of a house.

The footman opened the carriage door, and the earl unfolded from inside. With a spring in his step, he tipped his head to his driver and walked to the front door. In minutes, it was opened by a well-endowed, scantily clad woman.

She folded Dunlevy into an embrace, and they slid inside the door, then kicked it shut behind them.

Wonderful. He was here to tumble his mistress.

Even as the man searched for a bride, it was common knowledge that Dunlevy’s true love remained unmarriageable material. Adam could feel pity for the woman who ended up shackled to him.

Adam wasn’t about to wait in the bloody carriage and feel like a Peeping Tom.

Adam pushed the door and exited, waiting in the shadows as Dunlevy’s driver hauled himself into the seat atop his carriage and set the horses to moving. Likely eager to get to the pub around the corner, the driver never noticed Adam.