Page 49 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)

A Taste of Seduction

T he door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Standing on the top step he loosened his cravat to make it easier to swallow over the lump in his throat.

He gazed along the row of fashionable, but smallish townhouses.

They all looked the same, but he wondered if the people who lived inside were as empty of real life as the house behind him.

He was becoming melancholy and he didn’t like it. It was never easy announcing the death knell on an arrangement with another mistress. As Hadley sauntered down the steps to the street, he tried to summon hurt or disappointment, but he’d only be fooling himself. All he felt was hollow.

And angry.

He had hoped Philomena might be a tad upset that their arrangement had to end, but the only upsetting factor for her was that she had to be out of the house in three months.

He couldn’t afford to renew the lease after that.

He’d brought her enough jewelry to ensure she would not be thrown out on the street, but he suspected she’d find a new protector before she had to sell any of his gifts.

God damn his brother.

As the second son of the late Duke of Claymore, his brother, Augustus, the current duke, now controlled Hadley’s quite substantial allowance.

His pompous older brother was more than a little annoyed that Hadley would not marry the mousy Claire.

She was the insipid sister of Augustus’s best friend, the Marquis of Corby.

Augustus deemed the match to be of vital importance. The two families would be aligned, and since they both owned vast agricultural estates, as well as three coal mines, Augustus wanted the match. Hadley had learned from a very young age that what Augustus wanted he usually got.

Well, not this time.

His brother could bloody marry her. He’d sacrificed enough for his family as it was.

There was no way Hadley was marrying the young woman.

If Augustus thought to force him to comply by cutting the purse strings, he could go to hell.

It simply made Hadley more determined to deny his brother.

What his brother did not comprehend was that he had his own money.

He’d saved and saved and invested. He wasn’t exceedingly wealthy, but he had enough to survive and enough to invest and grow, if he was careful.

Maitland had seen to that with his investment prowess.

He would have to forgo mistresses for a while, at least until he earned bigger dividends.

Growing his wealth was now a prerogative. He refused to be in his brother’s keeping for the rest of his life, not when said brother used it against him.

He looked back at the quaint townhouse with deep regret. He’d been fond of Philomena and their time together.

Christ, he needed a drink. He pulled out his pocket watch.

Shortly he was expected at his fellow Libertine Scholar, the Earl of Markham, Christian Trent’s townhouse for dinner, but he couldn’t face all the happily married couples without fortifying himself first.

A fortifying drink at White’s was required. He could hail a hack, but it was a fine, if not a tad cool, late afternoon, and perhaps a walk would help him release his frustrations.

It took him over half an hour to walk to White’s.

Upon arrival, he spied one of his fellow Libertine Scholars, Arend Aubury, Baron Labourd, sitting at their favorite table.

Arend saw him and waved one of the servants over, asking for another glass.

There was a bottle of France’s finest brandy on the table.

As he took his seat, Arend commented, “You look as if you could do with a drink.”

Hadley grimaced and took the proffered glass from his friend. “It’s been one of those days when I wish I’d simply stayed in bed.”

“But not the bed of your now ex-mistress, it would seem,” Arend replied with a raised eyebrow.

Hadley turned in his chair and looked round the room. Men were staring and joking, and it was obvious it was about him. “It would appear news travels quicker than a man can walk.”

“What did you expect when she suddenly learns she needs a new protector?” Had the cold, emotionless Arend just rebuked him?

“I know, badly done by me.” Hadley sighed and straightened his cravat. “Her house has three months on the lease, though. I didn’t think she’d put it about so soon.”

“Care to share why you have let Philomena go so suddenly?”

“Bloody Augustus has cut me off.”

Arend looked surprised, and it wasn’t often that occurred. “Oh.” He nodded. “That’s good.”

“Good? Whenever is it good to find oneself having to watch what one spends?” Hadley tried to ignore the stares and the men heading to the White’s wager book. “Is everyone wagering on the reason why Philomena and I have parted ways?”

“Yes.”

“What reason has the best odds?”

Arend laughed. “Unfortunately, the one I wagered on.”

“And that is?”

“The return of Lady Evangeline Stuart, nee Althrope, to London. That’s why I think it’s good you have to leave Philomena for financial reasons. A man should never be at the mercy of a woman’s affections. We both know how fickle they are.”

Hadley felt the floor shake beneath his feet, and it was not an earthquake. He downed his brandy in one large gulp, the burn in his throat stinging his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he choked out. “Marisa told me she was in town. Her husband died, I believe.”

Evangeline Althrope, or Stuart, as she is now, had been the love of his life.

He remembered her as if it was yesterday instead of the five years it actually had been. Everything about her suddenly assaulted his memory. He had fooled himself into thinking that he had banished her from his thoughts for good. But the mere mention of her name undid him.

Forbidden memories rushed into his head.

He recalled her sleek limbs wrapped round him.

Her uninhibited cries of passion as her exquisite body arched against his.

Her luxurious hair, auburn silk flowing like flames over flawless creamy skin.

Her taste, as he’d sampled all she had to give.

Her laughter and her smile that could bring him to his knees.

But it had always been her eyes that drew him, filled with intelligence; the light blue color would darken with their incredible sensuality . . .

She was branded on his soul, her memory sharp with a clarity that still seared.

“She has been asking after you, setting tongues wagging and sending men to betting books.”

He looked at Arend blankly. “I hope you didn’t wager on her and I forming an attachment.”

“Silly me. I should have known better.” Arend ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I had inside knowledge. Sebastian is positive you are still in love with her.”

Breath fled Hadley and a wave of dizziness almost saw him drop his glass. Those words “still in love” were spoken as if from a dream that he’d played in his head over and over like an unforgotten song. He had loved her. “Had” being the operative word.

She’d married another.

But she was free now.

Then, as if Thor’s hammer came hurtling from the gods straight to his chest, the blow invisibly knocking him to hell, he remembered.

She’d chosen money, a title, and a safe life over him.

Over their love.

Just more than five years ago, he’d received Evangeline’s note. A note written in her own hand, telling him she was marrying Viscount Stuart. It had been painfully obvious that he’d been the only one in love.

He looked at Arend. “You made a foolish bet. I would not change anything in my life for that woman.”

Yet given the savage pain lancing through him, he’d be foolish to imagine that he’d recovered from her shattering betrayal. Did a man ever recover from his first love?

Especially a love that had been betrayed.

Arend picked up the hate in his voice because he leaned back in his seat and held up his hands in a defensive stance.

“Well, the lady doesn’t seem to understand that notion.

She’s been asking after you, trying to ascertain if you are engaged or married.

That definitely appears to be a woman on a mission.

” He laughed. “It would appear the beautiful Lady Evangeline is not aware of how you feel.”

Beautiful. Yes, he expected she was probably more beautiful than she’d been at twenty.

As soon as he’d laid eyes on the Yorkshire beauty, he’d known his desire for her would get him into all sorts of trouble.

The need to have her, to make her his, meant only one thing, marriage, but that had not stopped his pursuit.

Not even his father’s wrath could stop him.

He’d wanted to possess her, to give her his heart, his body, and his name. No other woman before, or since, had touched his heart as Evangeline had.

What a fool he’d been.

Unbeknownst to him, she’d lied as easily as she’d breathed.

“Well, if you see Lady Evangeline, perhaps you can inform her I have no interest in pursuing any type of relationship with her.”

“That could be a mistake. The beautiful young widow is now very wealthy. Her husband left her a large portion of his wealth.”

Arend’s words stung. He wasn’t petty enough to want to see her on a misery widow’s stipend, but it appeared her marriage had exceeded her expectations, for she got the money and title she craved. “Then she must be extremely happy, for that is why she married her Viscount.”

“I see.” Arend refilled his glass, pouring the brandy all the way to the top. “It’s as I have always suspected. A woman is madly in love as long as a purse is full. Love is only tested when the coffers run dry.”

Hadley thought of the other four fellow Libertine Scholars, all happily married. “Tell that to Christian, Sebastian, Grayson, and now bloody Maitland. I tell you, it’s as if the French have put something in the brandy. Men are succumbing to the shackles of matrimony far too often of late.”

Arend gave a mock shudder and raised his glass. “Here’s to bachelorhood.”