[Samuel Barbara] The Black Angel(Book4You) (24 page)

As they neared the bridge crossing the Serpentine, a voice cried out, "Adriana!" It was the voice of a woman, and it startled Adriana so much that she tugged too hard on her reins and the horse nearly reared. She glanced behind her, but the sun was full in her eyes and she could only see the shape of an open curricle until it pulled even with her.

"Margaret!" Adriana cried.

"I'm so glad to have caught you! Are you in town long?" Tall and sturdy, with a plain, intelligent face, Margaret Harding was a school friend who'd been presented at Court the year before Adriana and generally acknowledged to be a poor catch. She'd surprised everyone by landing a handsome earl who was smitten with a woman who loved horses and dogs as much as he, and Adriana had heard they were happily raising dozens of spaniels, horses, and children on the Earl's sprawling Dorset estate.

Margaret rode alone this morning, unattended by any but a friendly black spaniel who put his shaggy paws happily on the side of the carriage and barked a greeting. Adriana chuckled. "Hello to you, too."

"Behave yourself, Loki," Margaret admonished, slapping the dog heartily on the flanks. "Where do you stay? May I call?"

"Of course. We're here for at least a month or two." She gestured toward Tynan. "May I present my husband, the Earl of Glencove, Tynan Spenser. This is Margaret, Countess Uppingham."

Tynan gave her his most charming smile. "Delighted."

Margaret beamed and dipped her head. "The pleasure is mine." With a quick glance around her, she said, "I must say, the pair of you are quite brave. The scandal sheets are brimming with the gossip this morning."

"Bound to happen," Tynan said with a shrug.

"Indeed," Margaret said briskly. "Richard is quite in an uproar over it all. A peer on trial for a duel! Whoever heard of such a thing?" The dog barked at an approaching horse, and Margaret shushed him again. "I'll call this afternoon and we will speak of all that we've missed, shall we?" She took up the reins. "And there's a concert tomorrow evening at Vauxhall. I remember how much you loved music. Shall we attend?"

Adriana started to refuse, but Tynan said smoothly, "Splendid idea. I adore concerts."

"Still in St. George Street?"

Adriana, unsettled with the speed of the engagements, nodded, then waved as Margaret cheerfully drove away.

"Not entirely without allies then, are you?" Tynan said with a smile.

She blinked. "I suppose I am not."

He leaned close suddenly. "That witch is arriving from the left. I'd know that monstrosity of hair at ninety paces. I think you should kiss me."

And for one wild moment, tempted by the dancing light in his eyes and the heady pleasure of the day and the surprise of discovering a friend in town, Adriana very nearly did just that. At the last moment she ducked her head, putting her gloved hand up over his mouth. "Not even for this masquerade will I kiss you, my lord."

He did not immediately straighten, but leaned as close as he dared, considering the beasts upon which they rode and whispered. "You will," he promised.

A shiver rippled down her spine. Yes, in all likelihood she would. But not yet.

Not yet.

After an hour, Tynan could see the strain mounting on Adriana's nerves. Her mouth looked tighter and her shoulders more rigid, and at last he declared the exercise over. Leaving the park at the west end, they rode slowly toward home, speaking little. They passed a little band of men passing out pamphlets on one corner, and by the cries, they were protesting labor practices of some sort.

As if they reminded her, Adriana said, "Gabriel told me you have a cause."

"Did he, now?"

"He did." She looked at him seriously. "He would not say what it was."

Good man, Tynan thought. He had been right to trust Gabriel. Carefully, he said, "I've told you, more or less. I wish to buy a seat in Parliament. Cromwell is a monster, I'm afraid. 'Twould suit me to influence things in regard to my countrymen."

"I don't understand."

He sighed. "What do you know of Irish politics, Adriana?"

"Little," she admitted. "Only the very skeleton, I suppose."

Tynan took a moment to consider what to present and how, without giving away his own, private struggle. "You needn't know much of anything but that your country has oppressed mine in every possible way the past three hundred years. Through taxes and export restrictions the land has been reduced to a most abject brand of poverty. In past years there've been some concessions made, but only because the people rioted in Dublin."

"Concessions like your glass manufacturing?"

"Aye. And some straw power in the Irish parliament that is meant to allow us to govern a bit on our own, though in practice, that has not yet been realized."

"So you've come to influence your land by serving in our government."

"Aye."

"There's nothing so mysterious in that."

"Not if you're a sensible person," he agreed. "But 'twould likely not do my cause any good if those who'd grant me the sale of a seat in the House of Commons knew my true motive." He raised a brow. "Better they think I'm a rake without a single brain who simply wants to play politics and likely won't show up for a vote in ten."

Surprise and delight mingled on her face, and for a moment Tynan was struck most forcefully with her dazzling beauty. "Tynan, that's brilliant!"

He inclined his head. "Thank you. One is certainly happy to meet with the approval of one's spouse." He paused. "Such folk as your friend would be an asset as well."

"Margaret? Yes, she would be. Or at least her husband."

"Will you invite them to dine with us?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "It would be my pleasure." Carefully, she looked away. "I have not thanked you for all you've done, Tynan, for me and my family. We were in the most dire straits before Julian returned, and I've been ungrateful when you were nothing but generous." They drew even with the stables. Tynan smoothly dismounted and went around to help her down.

But there, he paused, caught somehow by the halo of light that glazed her blond head. The blue of her habit caught in her eyes. When she gave him her hand to allow him to assist her, Tynan felt the past hour rush through his nerves, the teasing, the playful touches, the light flirtation, the suble, powerful play of attraction between them.

All of it had kindled his quiet, constant desire for her, and now it swelled. When she dismounted, he did not let her go when she made to take her hand away.

Unalarmed, she turned. The blue eyes raised to his, eyes bright and clear, and unlike most of the women he'd known, these burned with knowledge, with a lively, enchanting intelligence. Her cheeks were flushed with exercise and he could smell the heady mix of sunlight and a clean breeze wafting from her hair.

And as if she did not know it was there, he saw yearning on her face, a yearning betrayed by the slight, convulsive tightening of her fingers over his own, of the slight flare of her nostrils. Her gaze slid to his mouth and back to his eyes, as if to utter a request she could not voice. If he had wished, he could have bent to taste those lips at last.

Instead he only let the moment stretch between them. He held her hand loosely, and his other hand touched the bend of her waist, and he let his own wish show on his face, but he did not move closer.

And in that long, suspended moment, he grew curiously aware of everything around them. The smell of hay and dung from the stables, the clatter of a harness, the lazy rumble of bees drinking the last of the season's nectar from bedraggled flowers in the garden.

He spoke from the heart. "You are a very beautiful woman, Adriana. It was a pleasure to be seen with you."

Her breath caught; he saw it in the quick swelling of her breast against her bodice. "Thank you," she said.

He forced himself to simply let go and offer his arm to escort her inside.

Even so, he was unable to quell the foolish, boyish leap of his pulse when she took it, when she smiled, almost shyly, at him.

Ah, Aiden, he thought. Do you see her? Do you approve?

When Tynan returned from his round of social calls, he found a note from Adriana waiting for him, and immediately went out again, to Cassandra's town house in Gerrard Street.

He was shown by Cassandra's servant to the downstairs parlor, where the sisters and Gabriel were assembled, their faces telling the tale even before he noted the untouched tea trays. Their grim expressions were out of place in the light, airy room. Painted in pastel tones, and boasting exquisite plasterwork highlighted with gilt, it invited a person to let go of a held breath, settle back, forget the troubles of the day. Long rectangular windows faced the back garden, adding to the light and airy feeling. A surprisingly conservative room for the famed salons, Tynan thought.

"Spenser," Cassandra said coolly from her place on the delicately made sofa. "Please sit down. Much of this concerns you."

He looked toward Adriana, hoping for some clue, but her eyes were shadowed, her mouth tight. With a sense of unease he slipped his coat from beneath him and perched on an upholstered chair. "Pray," he said, "what news could have given you such grim faces?"

"I have been informed," Cassandra said, her hands woven tightly together in her lap, "that there is a contingent among the House of Lords who wish to make an example of Julian." She jumped up and paced behind the sofa, the taffeta in her skirts rustling noisily. "I suspect Mrs. Pickering is behind it."

"Mrs. Pickering?"

Adriana answered. "Malvern's mother."

"Ah." He narrowed his eyes. "How is it she wields such power as to turn a body of men against their own? She's well past the courtesan's age of influence."

"She has a curious effect on men," Gabriel offered. As if to occupy himself, he picked up his cooling cup and stirred a lump of sugar into it. He glanced at his sisters and back to Tynan. "Talents particularly appealing to men of certain… tastes."

Tynan thought of the horrendous pile of hair and the shrewish voice, the strident tones of her voice, and could not imagine what any man would find appealing about her. Except,.

He blinked. "Ah."

Cassandra swished in a circle, paced to the wall and back again. "There is no way to know what number she has influenced, until the vote."

"Which would be a disaster for Julian, should the votes go the wrong way," Tynan said. He scowled. "Surely they would not hang him."

"Doubtful." Cassandra crossed her arms.

"But not entirely certain," Gabriel added.

Adriana made a soft, choked sound, and looking at her, Cassandra said, "Likely if he's guilty, it will mean transportation."

Adriana's face was drained of color, and Tynan felt an odd, deep pang. He wanted to move close, take her hand, give her courage, but she wore that invisible and definite cloak of distance he'd grown to recognize. She would not welcome it. Now she wiped her palms against each other, as if they were unclean. "There is more, Tynan."

He raised a single brow. "Yes?"

Gabriel put his cup and saucer down. "I have heard from Richard Stuart. He has decided not to sell his seat in the Commons."