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I ntent on ensuring people believed him relatively unaffected by recent events, Adrian entered White’s for the third time since his acquittal. He wanted the set of people who frequented this place to see him. Be reminded he had returned, especially since he was sure many had hoped he would not.

Forcing them to acknowledge his presence was rather fulfilling. Besides, attending might make him privy to information he’d not otherwise learn.

He stopped immediately inside the door and took a moment to glance around the lounge.

A few men who’d noted his arrival sent him hesitant looks before quickly glancing away.

The edge of his mouth quirked in response.

To say he did not relish disrupting the comfort they’d been enjoying would be dishonest. On the contrary, it made him feel like a lion among a pack of gazelles.

Powerful, dangerous, and most importantly feared.

Traits that helped keep others in check.

And though he had wondered if this might have changed thanks to the public humiliation he had endured, it seemed it had not.

Most likely, because those who had stood against him were wary of potential retaliation.

Only a fool would imagine the prime minister’s demands would be heeded if Adrian truly wanted a taste of blood.

For now, however, he meant to let them all squirm. To allow the act of his doing nothing put them on edge.

With this in mind, he approached the only man present whose company he cared to keep. If only Edward had been here. But since he wasn’t, the Duke of Moorland would have to do. Which was just as well. Adrian hadn’t yet had a chance to speak with him since returning to London.

The duke must have sensed Adrian’s approach for he raised his gaze from the paper he’d been perusing. Recognition flickered in his solemn expression and a hint of a smile followed.

He set the paper aside, the sweep of his hand encompassing the rest of the chairs that stood near his own. “Good to see you, Croft. Join me for a drink.”

“Thank you.” Adrian selected the chair adjacent to Moorland’s and sat while Moorland gestured for one of the servants. Brandy was ordered and when the servant went to fulfill the request, Adrian turned to the duke. “It’s my understanding I’m in your debt.”

Not a common occurrence, Adrian mused. He generally preferred it the other way around, but in this particular case he appreciated it. Edward and Eldridge had both informed him of Moorland’s support.

Something intense burned within the duke’s hazel eyes. “That would suggest I did you a favor, when all I did was help correct a terrible wrong.”

“Nevertheless, I’m grateful to you. Both for the sound advice you provided Marsdale and for helping Eldrige convince Lord Liverpool to have me pardoned.”

“He knew it would be detrimental not to.”

“Still, he’d not have considered it without your suggestion.”

Moorland’s lips twitched with a hint of humor. “I’m fairly certain you are the architect behind your own salvation. Eldridge and I merely did as you asked.”

The servant returned with a tray containing two glasses and a carafe. He poured the drinks and departed once more.

“You could have ignored my plea.”

“Not without incurring a guilty conscience.”

“Prinny leaving the City offered the perfect excuse for you to abandon all effort to help me. However, according to Eldridge, you suggested seeking help from the Hanging Cabinet instead. It is therefore thanks to you that I am once again free to enjoy life’s pleasures. Like an afternoon drink with a friend.”

He raised his glass and the duke followed suit. They clinked the glasses together then drank.

“Everyone is curious to know what you plan to do now,” Moorland said once he’d set his glass aside.

He leaned back in his seat, legs crossed at the ankles, one elbow propped on the armrest. “The condition Liverpool placed on your pardon was very clear. I assume it involves quite the change of pace for you.”

“Only if you believe the stories you’ve heard about me and my family over the years.” When Moorland’s gaze sharpened with interest, Adrian provided a casual shrug. “However, there’s really nothing to it.”

Disbelief showed on the duke’s face and then he chuckled. “If you say so, Croft.”

Adrian would never say otherwise. He could not afford to admit to any wrongdoing of any kind. The risk was too great and he had achieved too much. With a wife to care for, he would now guard the details of every crime he and his family had committed until his dying breath.

“There is something I would like to ask you,” he told the duke. “My wife and I are hosting a dinner this Thursday and would love for you and your wife to join us. I plan to invite Eldridge as well. Wrengate has already accepted my invitation.”

“I’m sure the duchess and I would enjoy an evening out at Croft House though I must confess I’m a little surprised Wrengate will be there. It has always been my belief that the two of you don’t get along.”

“You’re not entirely mistaken. However, I am of a mind to turn over new leaves and all that. Make the most of my second chance, so to speak.”

Moorland’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly, making it clear that he didn’t buy Adrian’s drivel for one single second.

But as Adrian hoped, the man was too polite to say as much and the conversation moved on.

It encompassed the duke’s plan to leave for his country estate next week and a mention of his eldest son’s academic achievements at Eton.

This was followed by a detailed discourse on the newly crowned King Karl Johan III of Norway, who was also King Karl Johan XIV of Sweden, and not from either of the two countries.

Indeed he’d been born Jean Baptiste Bernadotte and was not only French but also Napoleon’s former marshal.

The duke was busy voicing his opinion on the Swedes electing him as their ruler four years earlier when the conversation taking place between a couple of gentlemen seated nearby caught Adrian’s attention. He recognized one as Viscount Ottersburg.

“It’s unbelievable to me,” Ottersburg said. “Just goes to show that no servant is to be trusted, no matter how dependable they may seem.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more but…you’re certain she ran away with the money?”

A pause followed before Ottersburg said, “It’s the most reasonable explanation I can think of. We are speaking of five pounds. Considering her yearly wages, one can’t really blame her for being tempted. Indeed, I am the only one to blame for what happened.”

“It’s rather curious though.”

“In what way?”

“I’m sure it’s unrelated but Mr. Harper told me a similar story regarding his footman. Unlike your maid he didn’t request a loan. He received permission for the afternoon off in order to see a physician and was never heard from again.”

The viscount snorted. “Perhaps the pair ran off together.”

Adrian considered asking the man if he knew which physician his maid had gone to see and whether or not an attempt had been made to locate her when she didn’t return to work. It exasperated him that the man simply thought the worst.

Although Adrian knew there was every chance the girl had indeed taken the money and run, it was also possible something tragic had happened to her.

But then Viscount Birchwood arrived and Adrian became distracted by his mention of Judge Oakleigh, the man who’d condemned Adrian to hang. A ruling had just been made against the judge, and he had every intention of learning the details.

* * *

The roast duck Cook had prepared for supper was absolutely divine. Samantha cut another piece for herself, dipped it in a bit of gravy, and popped it in her mouth. Heavens above. It was hard for her not to make the same appreciative sounds that came from Isak with each bite he took.

The boy’s gusto pleased her and caused her to grin when she caught Adrian’s look of amusement from across the table. Evidently, he too was affected by the boy’s expressive gratitude for the delicious meal.

The meat was so tender it fell from the bones and melted in one’s mouth, the skin a crispy delicacy that was perfectly paired with the honey-glazed carrots and buttered potatoes. And the wine…

Adrian had selected the bottle himself. As he’d exclaimed when he arrived home from his club a couple of hours earlier, there was reason for them to celebrate this evening.

Judge Oakleigh had not only been removed from office.

He’d been sentenced to three months confinement at Fleet Prison and was also expected to pay a fine for the trouble he’d caused with his unfair ruling.

Samantha held up her glass. “To seeing justice served.”

“Indeed.” Adrian drank some wine while Isak enjoyed his lemonade. “Oakleigh will never work in the legal system again. His career is over, which I hope will serve as a warning to others.”

“Considering he almost cost you your life, I’m not sure I think his punishment harsh enough,” Samantha said.

“Frankly, I’d have liked to see him falsely accused and carted off to the gallows.

At least then he might have felt the true repercussion of his actions. Even if it were only done in pretense.”

“As I believe I’ve stated before,” Adrian murmured, “I’m glad you’re on my side instead of working against me.”

“Me too,” she said, for what else was there? She could never undo the work she’d done for Harlowe – the effort to infiltrate Adrian’s life and destroy him.

Her only chance, therefore, had been to prove herself continuously since he’d learned the truth about her. A challenge a bit of bad luck had only made harder. But the effort she’d made to save him from the hangman’s noose – the risk she’d taken in order to do so – was undeniable.

As awful as the entire ordeal had been, she was almost grateful for it because of the added closeness the experience had brought them. She wanted to address that somehow but before she could find the right words, Elks entered the room.