"Well, in fact I believe it was Adrian Rohan," Lina admitted. "But his cousin, thai awful Frenchman, used to be a doctor, so I imagine that's the next best thing. Adrian says that in another month or so Monty will be out doing something absurd like rowing on the Thames or dancing half clad and well to the boughs in Hyde Park after midnight. "
Charlotte said nothing. Clearly Lina had no desire to believe anything else. If Lord Montague lasted another month Charlotte would be much surprised. There would be no reason for Pagett to summon them if the end wasn't near. But they would take things as they came. At least she was getting far enough away that she wouldn't be tempted by Adrian Rohan ever again.
Adrian was in a thoroughly foul mood. His insouciance had only carried him so far. Once Charlotte Spenser walked into the house, his lazy smile vanished. He dismissed his carriage—the walk back to Curzon Street was short and he needed to work off his bad temper.
He'd certainly handled that well, he thought savagely. He'd thought to make her so mad at him that she wouldn't ever countenance touching him again. Then, when he'd decided to have her after all, he'd worked her into such a state of excitement that his own arousal had been painful. And then she hadn't given in.
He cursed at the thought. What kind of games was he playing? He wasn't sure if he wanted to win or to lose. And what the hell was wrong with him? Charlotte Spenser? She was older than he was, for God's sake. She was an antidote—no one wanted her. She'd had at least one season, he supposed, since he remembered dancing with her, but clearly no one had offered for her, and by now she was a complete spinster, thirty if she was a day, with no possibilities, no future except as a companion to Evangelina Whitmore. Why in God's name had she rejected him? Shouldn't she take her pleasure where it was offered? It wasn't as if she could lose her virginity twice.
Her lie about turning into a whore like Lina was totally unbelievable. But that didn't mean it wouldn't always be the case. He'd shown her, quite effectively, the kind of pleasure that could be had between a man and a woman. With Lina's habits there'd be scores of randy men, and Charlotte would be there. With her glower, to scare them away. With her deliciously long legs and copper-colored hair and luminous eyes, with her creamy skin and delectable mouth. Once someone got her in bed they wouldn't let her go, and the thought infuriated him.
If she was going to have an illicit affair it was going to be with him. The little idiot didn't realize that partners weren't interchangeable. That what went on between them had been, for want of a better word, special. There'd been s
omething rare and dangerous between them during those two dark days, some kind of connection that he'd never felt before. And the damned feeling had lasted, disturbing with his sleep, leaving him bored with the beautiful, experienced women he could easily have.
In truth, he wanted Charlotte and no one but Charlotte, and his efforts to get over her were only making things worse. He could have had her in the carriage. His release might have been enough to finally let go. There was no way that the sex had been as good as he remembered. Impossible. All he had to do was tup her again and he'd know that for a fact.
He was almost home. The full moon had set, and the night was dark. Perhaps that was his problem— folklore had it that everyone got a little crazy during a full moon. Certainly the watchmen were busier with miscreants and Mohocks. By tomorrow he might feel entirely differently.
But tomorrow was too far away. He could see his cozy little house up ahead, but he stopped, looking back the way he'd come. Not quite ready to admit defeat.
But what could he say? If he had any idea which was Charlotte's bedroom he'd damn well scale the walls of Evangelina's house to get to her. Perhaps he could just charge in like some bloody pirate and demand her, throw her over his shoulder and carry her off. Who could stop him?
He laughed at the thought. Charlotte would probably break his head for trying it. And he suspected Evangelina wouldn't be any help—she was damnably protective of the woman. Girl. Woman.
If he had any sense he would spend the night blessedly alone with a bottle or two or three.
He had no sense. He turned, moving back the way he'd come, when something rushed out of the darkness, straight at him. More than something— three men, brandishing clubs, and the first blow took him off guard, hitting him in the head, momentarily stunning him.
The next caught his knees, and he fell to the ground, reaching for the pistol he carried beneath his coat.
Author: Anne Stuart
"Watch out, 'e's got a popper," one of them called, and his arm went numb from another blow.
"Finish 'im off, Jem," one man said. "We wants to get paid before the cove takes off. Besides, we gots other work to do tonight besides this one. "
Presumably it was Jem who moved closer. Adrian looked up at him dazedly, his head still ringing. The next blow would most likely crush his skull. And for some reason all he could think of was Charlotte's reaction to his untimely demise,
"You there!" someone shouted, and just like that the men scattered into the shadows like the rats they were, Adrian thought dazedly.
He tried to sit up, and someone came up to him, putting his hand under his arm to haul him to his feet. The arm they'd hit, and he let out a string of blasphemous curses as he struggled to his feet, only to see that his savior was wearing the collar of a vicar.
"Bloody Christ," he muttered weakly.
The man laughed. "You're in one piece, Rohan. You can thank God for that, not curse him. "
"Fat Tot you know," he said. He narrowed his eyes.
He was still seeing a shadow around everything, but he was fairly certain he'd never met this man before. "Who are you?" he demanded, suspicious. "How do you know who I am? Did you set those men on me?”
“I'm the one who saved you, remember? I know who you are because I've come to see you. I'm Simon Pagett. I've come from Lord Montague. "
He was already dizzy, and the man's words weren't helping. "He's not dead, is he?" he said in a dangerous voice.
"No. But he doesn't have long. He wants his closest friends to come and say goodbye. "
For a long moment Adrian didn't say anything. And then he nodded toward his house. "I live just over there. Come in with me and you can tell me about it. "