Chapter 7

7

H aving arrived at the Earl of Marsdale's home some twenty minutes ago, Adrian kept to the periphery of the glittering ballroom while chatting with his sister, his host, and the Duke of Eldrige.

It was his first public outing since the death of his father, a return to Society not just for him but for Evie too. An occasion that marked the celebration of Marsdale's thirtieth birthday.

Adrian hadn't wanted to miss it.

Marsdale – Edward Pryce – was a longtime friend of his due to their mothers having grown up together. As such, they always ignored formalities when in private. He was the only man in whose company Adrian was comfortable enough to fully relax. Unfortunately, this didn't include the sharing of secrets. Edward would never approve of the things Adrian had done. He was much too proper.

So Adrian made sure to keep the more personal aspects of his life carefully hidden. Of course, there was no doubt in his mind that Edward, like so many others, suspected him of working outside the law. But admitting it outright was bound to threaten their friendship – a risk Adrian had no desire to take.

He sighed inwardly, relieved that this evening marked a new beginning without fear or shame. This was what he wanted. A chance to start over.

His days spent running around shady alleyways and hunting down those who crossed his father were over. No need to look back when a much brighter future awaited him and Evie.

"According to what I read, the fellow had some sort of mental collapse in the middle of the street." Eldridge's comment caught Adrian's attention, distracting him from his thoughts.

Of slightly shorter build than Adrian, with thick brown hair and a gaze that seemed to reach the depth of one's soul, the duke was among a small handful of men his father had spoken favorably of.

The rest of those entitled cretins will push their dearest friend off a cliff if it serves their purpose. Eldridge, on the other hand, is a man of substance upon whom even a stranger may confidently rely.

Adrian had never discovered what the good duke might have done to earn such respect. Papa had merely said he could trust him if needed. How much, had not been made clear.

"He punched a man who tried to assist him." Eldridge rocked back on his heels. "Blocked the traffic on Piccadilly for nearly an hour before the constables came to remove him."

"London does have some rather exciting moments," Edward said before taking a sip of champagne.

Eldridge dipped his chin. "I'm not sure the good Samaritan would agree."

Adrian grinned. He'd missed the lively banter one found at social gatherings. Not that he hadn't enjoyed his regular talks with Edward these past few months, but it was different when there were other people present. Especially with Adrian's own wit in scarce supply lately.

Finding humor in anything had been a challenge. He'd had too much to think of – too many worries and concerns for himself, for Evie, and the future of their lineage. Turning his back on his legacy did not come without some degree of uncertainty or risk.

He'd have to find new ways in which to fill his coffers. Those farther down the chain of command – men who'd served his father with unfailing loyalty – had already voiced their displeasure with his intention.

Might one of them choose to break rank and turn on him?

Trust had been at the heart of everything he and his forefathers had undertaken. If rumor had it that he'd gone soft, that no repercussion would follow from his side, would one of his employees try to sell him out?

He was confident enough in the measures he'd always taken to protect his secrets that such a course would pose a challenge for even those closest to him. With nothing damning ever put in writing, it would be a struggle to prove his involvement in any of the illegal activities he'd engaged in while serving his father.

But it wasn't impossible, he reminded himself while chuckling in response to another witty comment spoken by Edward.

He was just about to reply when the next guests were announced.

A hush fell over the room at the mention of the Irvines. They entered with somber expressions, their attire suggesting they still mourned the death of their daughter.

Adrian found their attendance surprising, given the fact that their daughter was murdered just seven months earlier. But then he noted the young lady who accompanied them – another daughter of debutante age.

"It must be terribly hard for them, having to step out in public so soon after..." The duke shook his head with visible sadness.

"An unfortunate necessity," Evie said, her voice filled with sympathy. "If they wish to see Miss Cassandra married, they must ensure that she's seen."

Adrian glanced at his sister. He'd had a similar notion pertaining to her. At eighteen years of age, she should be looking for her life partner. Hopefully this would be easier for her to do now that Papa was gone. He'd always had a knack for scaring off eligible suitors with his mere presence.

All except one…

He considered Edward and wondered for the hundredth time why he'd never asked for permission to court Evie. Although this was one thing they'd never openly discussed, Adrian knew his friend cared deeply for her and that she returned the sentiment, despite their difference in age.

One thing was certain – it wasn't for Adrian to get involved. If Edward wanted Evie for his wife, he'd bloody well have to figure out how to make that happen on his own.

A melodious tune being played by three violins swirled through the air, mingling with the tapping of feet as dancers moved in time with the music. Later this evening, Evie would dance with the duke – an honor Adrian hoped would encourage other men to write their names on her dance card.

Edward had already done so of course. She would dance with him first. But Adrian would like for her to receive more attention, if only to bolster her confidence.

He was starting to wonder if taking a turn of the room with her would improve her chances, when the ma?tre d' announced two additional late arrivals.

"Mr. Dorian Harlowe and Miss Samantha Carmichael."

Adrian's spirits lifted as soon as he saw the older man. He was tall, with a solid bearing that added a great deal of weight to his studious gaze. Whatever hair he'd once had was now gone, but that did not deter from his striking appearance.

This was someone who wouldn't be crossed.

Adrian smiled. Although he'd only met him once when Harlowe'd joined Papa for luncheon at White's, he'd enjoyed the man's straightforward manner. If they'd been of similar age, he might even have been inclined to foster a deeper friendship with him. The stories he'd told of his travels had been engaging. He'd a knack for making his listeners hang on his every word.

Mr. Harlowe turned to greet someone and Adrian's gaze immediately shifted toward the woman who stood at his side. He took a breath, not even aware that he held it until his lungs started to strain with the effort. Releasing it slowly, he did his best to keep his expression impassive – to hide the interest that surged through his body.

Miss Carmichael was beyond lovely with light blonde hair piled into an elegant updo that left a few curls to frame her face. Slender of build, she moved with effortless grace, the ivory silk of her gown hugging her lithe figure.

"How odd," Evie said.

Adrian shifted his gaze to his sister just long enough that when he looked back in Miss Carmichael's direction, the crowd had closed around her, blocking her from his view.

"How so?" he asked, deciding to humor his sister, though he was a little curious himself as to what she might say.

"Miss Carmichael appears to be of a similar age to me, yet I don't recall her debut."

"You wouldn't," said Eldridge. He lowered his voice to a near whisper as he explained, "I believe her parentage to be unknown. Mr. Harlowe and his wife brought her and a few other girls to live with them some seventeen years ago. As you can imagine, their questionable backgrounds would make presentation at court and subsequent debuts impossible when bearing in mind the purpose of this tradition."

"Marrying into the upper class would not be an option for them," Edward said, putting words to Eldridge's unspoken point. "The scandal of having a wife whose mother might one day reveal herself as a washerwoman or worse would be hard for most to survive, I should think."

"To say nothing of the problems that would arise from this knowledge alone," Adrian said, thinking out loud. "Any number of people might come calling, claiming family ties and demanding some sort of compensation."

"Quite right," Eldridge said. "I think we can all agree it wouldn't be worth it."

"A pity," Evie said while staring in Miss Carmichael's general direction. "She might be perfectly pleasant."

Silence followed this comment, most likely because there was little to say. She was right, of course, but that didn't make Miss Carmichael any less risky as a matrimonial partner.

The current piece of music faded and the next set was announced.

"That's our dance," Edward said, smiling warmly at Evie before offering her his arm.

Her gaze held his as she accepted his escort. "I'll see you later, Brother. Your Grace."

Adrian watched as the pair made their way to the dance floor. Feeling the weight of Eldridge's gaze, he turned to face him. They were alone now, trapped in the uncomfortable silence of Edward and Evie's departure.

Although they knew each other reasonably well, Eldridge had always spent more time in Papa's company than in Adrian's. Perhaps on account of him being at least two decades Adrian's senior, or possibly because Papa, as the head of the Croft family, had been on more equal footing with him at the time.

That had since changed. Adrian's world had shifted. He'd gained the power his father had wielded, only to let it flicker and fade like a burnt-out candle.

The duke cleared his throat, breaking the silence between them. "Tell me, for I am damn curious. Why haven't you married yet?"

"My mistress provides what I need." A response that equaled the shocking directness of Eldridge's question. He followed it with a calm jab of his own, "Where is your lovely wife this evening?"

His comment was bold, bordering on impertinent since it was commonly known that the duke and duchess had been estranged for a number of years. Then again, given the nature of their acquaintance, Eldridge's own remark had been prying. Adrian watched him closely in anticipation of his response.

A flicker of surprise passed over Eldridge's face before it disappeared behind a neutral mask. The duke gave a low chuckle and looked away for a moment before turning back to Adrian and saying, "I'm afraid Her Grace favors the countryside these days."

"A pity."

The duke smirked. Leaning in, he glanced toward the entrance – the very spot where Miss Carmichael stood – and quietly said, "You ought to stop gawking and ask her to dance."

Adrian stilled on the realization that Eldridge had seen straight through his attempt at appearing indifferent.

The duke stepped back, a wry look adding a hint of mischief to his steely gaze. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Croft."

With that, Eldridge turned and walked off, leaving Adrian alone as he went to join the Duke of Wrengate. A man who'd always struck Adrian as the callous sort who'd kick a puppy if it were in his way.

Jaw clamped, Adrian headed outside to the terrace for a bit of fresh air. As he stepped through the door, a light breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his skin. He crossed the flagstone paving and leaned against the railing, then closed his eyes in an effort to calm himself.

Shoving one hand in his pocket, he smoothed his thumb over the miniature he carried with him without fail.

No one was supposed to know his mind, but if Eldridge was able to read his expression, anyone could. He took a breath and acknowledged that he was severely out of practice. Clearly he'd have to do better.

A soft gasp alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. Turning, he saw that he'd been joined by the ever-eager Miss Leonora Brighton, a friend of his sister's who often sought him out whenever the chance to do so arose.

Adrian almost groaned. He doubted her parents would be especially thrilled if they knew of her interest in him.

"Are you all right?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. "If you'd like someone to talk to, I'm happy to offer companionship."

Adrian stared at her. "Thank you, but I think it would be best for you to return indoors."

He was not the sort of man who could be coerced into marriage because he'd been found alone with someone's foolish daughter. If anyone happened upon them, he'd walk away without second thought while her reputation would be forever ruined.

Ignoring his suggestion, she shrugged one shoulder and moved toward him. "Your father's death was terribly hard on Evelyn. It must have been awful for you as well."

This was not the sort of conversation he wished to have at the moment. Certainly not with her. He pushed away from the railing and prowled through the darkness until they were standing no more than a foot apart. Her eyes widened with some sort of twisted yearning that made no sense. They barely knew one another.

Raising his palm, he set it against her pale cheek and allowed his thumb to lightly caress her. He watched with an almost perverse degree of gratification as her eyelids drooped and a sigh of pleasure drifted across her thin lips. Like a tiny duckling seeking shelter in a lion's den.

"You would do well to stay away from dishonorable men," he murmured. "Set your sights on finding a suitable match instead."

She swallowed hard, her throat working roughly with the effort as she sought his gaze and held it. "How can I when I'm irrevocably drawn to you?"

Not him, he wagered, so much as the thrill of courting danger. It might be time for him to recommend Evie cut ties with this woman.

His hold on Miss Brighton's jaw tightened, squeezing until she whimpered and squirmed. "Three upper-class women were murdered last year, Miss Brighton. The killer has not yet been captured, and until he is, I recommend caution when choosing whom to seek out in dark corners."

Maneuvering her to the side so he could pass, he strode to the ballroom door and returned inside, coming to an immediate halt when he spotted Evie. She no longer danced with Edward. Instead she stood by the refreshment table, chatting with Miss Carmichael.

Unsettled, he studied them for a moment before he made his approach. What were the odds of a woman he knew next to nothing about befriending his sister?

He reminded himself that she was the foster daughter of a man he'd taken an instant liking to. And yet, Adrian could not shake the awareness that if someone were to try and gain access to him, the most expeditious way of doing so would be through Evie.

Or maybe he was simply too jaded.

Evie was more open and trusting. So it wasn't impossible for her to fall into conversation with someone she'd not met before.

As he drew closer, he wondered what their conversation entailed. He was, after all, Evie's brother and while he wanted her to have friends, he also wanted to make sure she was safe in her choices. The last thing he needed was another Miss Brighton.

He cleared his throat as he reached the ladies, drawing both their attention.

"Evie," he said and added a nod of acknowledgment, though his gaze remained on Miss Carmichael.

He watched her intently, taking in her features – the porcelain skin, blonde hair, and almond-shaped eyes of cornflower blue. They seemed to penetrate him as she greeted him with a soft smile.

Something inside him stirred, though he quickly quashed it. He wasn't here to make friends or entertain romantic notions. All he wanted was to discover if she had ulterior motives.

"Adrian," Evie said brightly. "Allow me to present Miss Carmichael. Miss Carmichael, this is my brother, Mr. Adrian Croft."

"A pleasure." Color spread through Miss Carmichael's cheeks. She averted her gaze, conveying a shyness that struck him as uncommonly charming. But was it real?

He clasped his hands behind his back and gave a short bow while making a very deliberate effort to school his features. It would not do for this woman to glimpse his thoughts as Eldridge had done.

"Indeed, the pleasure is mine." He collected a glass of champagne and clinked it against the one Miss Carmichael held before doing the same with Evie's. "It's rare to meet new people in London Society these days. I must confess, I find it refreshing."

"I was just saying the same exact thing," Evie remarked.

"How come we've not met before?" A question intended to get at the truth. Adrian took a casual sip of his drink.

Miss Carmichael cleared her throat then drank some champagne as well. "There's never been cause for me to participate in these kinds of events. I…am not exactly eligible to marry into the upper ranks of Society. But I've always dreamed of attending a ball, so that's what I wished for on my last birthday."

Adrian frowned. "And Mr. Harlowe agreed?"

"He's a wonderful man – extremely kind, thoughtful, and giving." She took another sip of her drink, as though needing to quash her nerves.

"Thank goodness for that," Evie said. She sent Adrian a pointed look. Do not ruin this for me . "I'm of the opinion that every young lady should have the chance to put on fine clothes and enjoy an evening of splendor."

A lovely sentiment, though not one likely to offer additional insight. He tilted his head. "As I understand it, Mr. Harlowe took you in when you were a child."

Evie gasped. "For goodness sake, Adrian, that's hardly the sort of thing one mentions immediately after being introduced."

Miss Carmichael produced a timid smile. "It's quite all right. I don't mind talking about it."

Was it just him, or had Miss Carmichael's eyes hardened a little? "How old were you when you arrived at Clearview House?"

"I was seven."

"Where were you before?"

"St. Christopher's home for foundling children."

"Quite a change then." An observation he tucked away with all the others.

"I count myself lucky." She raised her chin. "I went from sharing a room with nine others to having one of my own, from being cold and dirty, to being warm and clean."

"Heavens," Evie murmured. "I can't even imagine."

"I'll wager you also received an improved education," Adrian said, digging deeper. It was impossible to tell from Miss Carmichael that her beginnings had been so humble. Her attire, the way she carried herself, her very mannerisms and speech belonged to a gently bred lady. It was unnerving how impossible it was to discern her true background, even when he knew about it.

"There were governesses," Miss Carmichael explained, "besides which, Mr. Harlowe and his late wife taught us."

"And what—"

"Adrian," Evie chastised once more, grabbing his arm this time and chuckling. "I'm sure Miss Carmichael would like a reprieve from all your questions. You must forgive him, Miss Carmichael, but he's always had an inquisitive nature."

"I only wished to learn what her favorite subjects might have been." A lie. He'd been meaning to ask about the other women in Harlowe's care and what exactly he'd taught them.

Miss Carmichael responded with a weak smile. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation some other time. At present, I'm afraid I must go and find my next dance partner."

Evie turned on Adrian as soon as Miss Carmichael had walked away. "What is wrong with you?"

Crossing his arms, Adrian met her critical gaze. "How do you mean?"

"You cross examined her as though she were a criminal."

"It's my job to protect you."

"From other young women?" Evie narrowed her eyes on him. "I thought you'd be less overbearing than Papa, but it seems you're just as intent on ruining potential friendships for me as he was."

Adrian bristled. His muscles flexed and his jaw tightened as he leaned toward her. "I am nothing like Papa."

Evie's lips parted. She stared at him in dismay, clearly surprised by the level of anger her comment had led to. Of course she'd be stunned. Her impression of their father had been so vastly different. Yes, he'd been overprotective of her, but not for the reasons she thought – not because he worried she might be led astray by a rogue but rather because he'd feared ulterior motives from everyone they associated with.

Adrian had sworn he'd do better. He'd especially meant for Evie to have more freedom. But how could that happen if he didn't let her make her own choices?

"You're right. Please forgive me. It's just that I know you always see the best in people, even when I struggle to find one good thing about them."

A pained look entered her eyes. "I'm not as na?ve as you likely believe me to be."

He hoped that was true, though he couldn't quite help but doubt it. "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house as promised."

"Really?"

Having only visited the Marsdale parlor in the past, she'd asked Edward if he might give her a tour. He'd declined on account of being the host, but had suggested Adrian do the honors.

Starting downstairs, he led Evie through the various rooms, all of them closed off to everyone else for the evening. They visited Edward's study – a space Evie appeared to show great interest in – then headed to the library, the music room, and the dining room before moving upstairs to the gallery.

It was there, while admiring all the faces of Edward's ancestors, that Adrian made a decision. If he was to truly distance himself from Papa's authoritarian rule, then he ought to provide his sister with more flexibility.

Without even glancing toward her he said, "Invite Miss Carmichael over for tea, if you like. It will give you a chance to further your acquaintance and to decide if she's someone you'd like to count as a friend."

"Really? Do you mean it?"

"I wouldn't suggest it otherwise."

Their father had never allowed either one to bring friends into the house. Adrian had known that it was because he'd worried about what they'd hear or see.

Evie, however, had always believed it was due to his hating the disruption such visits posed to his orderly life.

They returned to the ballroom where Edward was still busy being the attentive host. Mr. Harlowe, who stood a bit farther along, was engaged in conversation with Eldridge. Another curious point. Judging from their relaxed interaction, it looked as though they might be longtime friends.

And then there was Miss Carmichael who presently danced a reel with Viscount Stanton's youngest son, Mr. Clive Newton.

Adrian tracked their movements with interest and made a mental note to have Murry investigate further. Despite what he'd just told Evie, he wasn't about to let Miss Carmichael into his home without knowing more about her.