Chapter 19

The Duke of Evesham’s butler showed Max up to the drawing room. In his youth, Max had been in this house several times before with Lucien. It looked much the same and still carried the austere elegance one would associate with the duke.

But Max wasn’t here to see Lucien’s father. He was calling on Lucien’s aunt, Lady Peterborough. She was currently residing with her brother after leaving her husband’s household. Prudence had told Max that once her existence was known, Lord Peterborough had tried to send his wife to a convent in Wales. Evesham had intervened and brought his sister here.

Lady Peterborough was not in the drawing room when Max went in. The butler left him to meander about the room. He removed his hat and did a circuit before realizing he was nervous. He took a position near a window and Lady Peterborough swept in, her dark-brown-and-gray hair intricately styled atop her head, a coral necklace at her throat, and a persimmon gown cloaking her round frame.

The countess didn’t get very far, for as soon as she saw Max, she stopped short, her gaze fixing on him. “Good heavens, you look even more like your father now.” She blinked and moved toward him. “Except for those nasty scars, of course.” She spoke matter-of-factly, without a hint of malice, and he assumed she was a woman who said what she wanted. He respected that. It also meant he would learn what he came to discover. He hoped that would be the case.

“You knew my father very well,” he said, not certain how to begin.

She laughed softly as she sailed to a chair near the center of the room and sat down. “I think you know that since you are aware of your half sister, who is my daughter. Thank you for giving her a dowry, even if it was late.” She wrinkled her nose slightly as she clasped her hands in her lap.

Max took a chair opposite her and rested his elbow on the arm. “I was quite shocked to learn about her,” he said evenly. Hell, if she was going to speak plainly, so was he. “I keep saying that, but the truth was that I was hurt and furious to learn my father had been unfaithful to my mother.”

“And not just with me.” She pressed her lips together. “You may not have known that. I apologize.”

“I did not,” he said tightly, wondering if he’d ever known his father at all. “I suppose that means he didn’t really love my mother, that he was unhappy with her.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” The countess tipped her head as she regarded him. “Honestly, he didn’t talk about your mother, and I didn’t ask.”

“I believe you were otherwise occupied,” he said sardonically and with a hint of enmity.

“Being lovers, you mean. It was more than that. I cared deeply for him. He was a wonderful man. His death saddened me greatly.”

He didn’t give a damn about her feelings regarding his father. “Wonderful men aren’t adulterous.” Max hated him anew even as he missed him terribly. “His death devastated me, as did my mother’s.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Why have you come today?”

This was where he struggled to explain. “I suppose I wanted to know about your relationship with him, whether you loved each other.”

“I have been trapped in an unhappy marriage, and your father was charming and complimentary. He made me feel…exceptional.” There was a glimmer of something in her eye. She may not have loved his father, but he could see that she had indeed cared for him.

“Did my mother know about you or Prudence?”

“I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure. Your father was very supportive when I told him I was carrying. I’d hoped Peterborough would just accept the child as his own since I’d already given him an heir and a spare.”

“He refused?” Max knew the answer, but wanted to hear her tell what happened.

“Oh, yes. He was beyond furious. He sent me to a convent until I birthed Prudence. Your father had arranged for her care.”

“My father did that?”

“Yes. He wanted to ensure our child was adopted by a family, that she would be raised in a good household. Prudence’s adopted father was a teacher. She’s well educated, if you don’t know.”

Max heard pride in her voice. “Was it difficult to give her away?”

“Nearly impossible. But I had no choice. Your father considered taking her, but it was a flight of fancy. He admitted he couldn’t. I suppose based on that, it’s likely your mother wasn’t aware of me or Prudence.”

Thinking back to his mother’s death, Max recalled his father’s grief. He’d certainly appeared to love her. “I’m struggling to understand my father’s infidelity. I never would have guessed he loved anyone other than my mother.”

“Perhaps he didn’t. One does not need to be in love to engage in an affair. You haven’t loved all the women you’ve… well, you know. Have you?”

Of course he hadn’t. But it had been a long time. He’d loved Lucia desperately. And since her there had only been Ada. He was fairly certain he loved her too. The anguish that caused him nearly bent him in two.

“I have been in love,” he said softly as he looked her dead in the eye. “And I would never be able to be with anyone but that woman.” He suddenly wondered if he was somehow being unfaithful to Lucia. No, she would want him to carry on. Of that, he was certain.

“Your father would be proud of you. I understand things have been difficult for you since returning from the war. You were terribly wounded?”

He nodded. “I’m getting better, however.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. I saw Prudence yesterday, and she said that you and she had a nice walk the other day. She also said she thought you might carry forward as siblings. Your father would be thrilled to know that. I hope that gives you solace.”

He didn’t want it to—because he was still angry with his father—but it did. And he supposed that was why he’d come today, for whatever insight into his father this woman could provide. Knowing that he’d arranged for his daughter’s care and would be gladdened for her and Max to be siblings made him feel…lighter. It made him think the anger he felt would fade in time. Perhaps this was like his other wounds, and with time and care, he would overcome the pain and forgive his father. Ada would say that was a brilliantly sensible way to think about it.

Max stood. “Thank you for seeing me today.”

“You even sound rather like him.” A wistful smile curled her lips. “It was my pleasure to spend time with you, Warfield. I hope I’ll see you again.”

“I suppose we will since we appear to be family. Good day.” He turned and left, making his way downstairs. As he stepped into the entry hall, he saw Lucien doing the same, coming from Max’s right.

Sporting a bright yellow cravat, Lucien blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I called on your aunt.”

“I hope that went well.”

The air between them felt stilted, but Max supposed that was appropriate since the last time they’d seen each other, they’d exchanged blows. Everything Ada had said to him about Lucien and their friendship rose in his mind—loudly.

“It did. I take it you just met with your father,” Max said, nodding toward his cravat.

Lucien glanced down. “You remember?”

“That you wear ridiculously colored cravats to annoy him? Yes.” Max couldn’t help smiling, which was odd since until a fortnight or so ago, he could barely force himself to do so. “Does this mean your relationship with him is the same as ever?” The duke favored his eldest son and heir and his youngest child and daughter. Lucien had somehow always been lacking.

“It may be marginally improved, actually, likely due to his other two children being happily wed. That would never prevent me from taunting him, however,” he added with a grin. “In any case, he’ll soon realize I’m still a disappointment to him, and things will worsen once more.”

“You sound resigned.”

Lucien shrugged. “I have no expectations for improvement. Are you on your way back to the club?”

“I am. I walked.”

“Do you want company?”

The old Max—the one who’d never met Ada Treadway—would have scowled and said no. But he began to think that Max might be gone, or at least greatly diminished. “I would, thank you.”

They left the house and made their way from Grosvenor Square toward St. James’s.

After a few moments, Max said what he needed to, “I want to apologize for last night.”

“There’s no need. The fireworks set you off.”

“I thought we were back in Spain. Then those ruffians surrounded Ada. It was as if I finally had the chance to save Lucia.”

“Christ.” Lucien clapped his hand on Max’s shoulder briefly.

Max winced and pulled away. “That’s where I was stabbed.”

“Shit. Sorry!” Lucien looked stricken.

Then they both laughed. For far too long. Max didn’t remember laughter feeling that good.

Lucien glanced at him as they walked past Chesterfield House. “You’re all right, though?”

“The shoulder’s fine.”

“And…the rest?”

“You mean my mind and my demeanor? I won’t lie—it’s difficult. I had a hard time leaving my bedchamber today.”

“Is it often like that?” Lucien asked softly.

“It depends on what you think is often,” Max said wryly. “Ada has a theory that I’m wounded on the inside and finally starting to heal. I think she must be right since I haven’t laughed like that in years.” Aside from laughing with Ada, Max didn’t remember the last time.

“You and she seem to have formed a bond.”

“I don’t know about that, but we’ve become friends, I suppose. She managed to bring me out of my stupor, or whatever you want to call it.”

“How?”

“Hell if I know. I found her thoroughly annoying. She’s also persistent and so bloody cheerful.”

Lucien grinned. “She wore you down.”

“That’s probably the best way to characterize it. But it was more than that. She showed me how I was neglecting the people at Stonehill. I may not care about the estate, but it’s their livelihood, and I owe it to them to keep it up.”

“She did what I was unable to do during my many visits.” There was no anger in Lucien’s statement. Indeed, he sounded almost wistful.

“It wasn’t for your lack of trying. Unfortunately, I think you were doomed to fail—and that was entirely my fault. I was never going to let you save me again. Not the way my mind was working.” Before Ada had brought the light into his darkness. Max met Lucien’s eyes. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but you were there. Surely you know?—”

Lucien touched his sleeve. “I know. And I should have realized we were dealing with what happened in very different ways. I never should have expected you to respond as I have.”

“And how is that?”

“Well, I’m not going to discuss it.” Lucien smirked. “That is how I deal with it.” He inhaled sharply and looked forward. “Since you are dedicating yourself to Stonehill, does this mean you’ve changed your mind about marrying and providing an heir?”

“Nothing has changed on that front.”

“What about Ada?”

Max nearly stopped. Thinking of her and an heir in adjacent thoughts made him feel… He didn’t know how it made him feel. He flexed his hands as they walked. “What about her?”

“There’s no chance you could be more than friends? That perhaps there’s a chance for a future at Stonehill?”

“You are as meddlesome as Ada.”

Lucien grimaced. “I was only asking.”

“There is nothing between me and Ada.” Nothing that wasn’t temporary anyway. “I’ll return to Stonehill—probably tomorrow. I’m deeply grateful for her help, but she’s quite happy at the Phoenix Club. She truly loves her position there, if you don’t already know that.”

“I do know that. She does an excellent job.” Lucien frowned, and Max could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. That was another thing he had in common with Ada. They were both loud thinkers.

“Is there something else you feel the need to say?” Max suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Lucien hesitated before shaking his head. “No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Exhaling, Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m actually trying not to be so meddlesome, especially in relationships. I stuck my nose in a few times recently and have been informed that I should mind my own business.”

So he was trying to play matchmaker. Since Max didn’t want that, he abandoned the topic.

“Speaking of meddling, I’m afraid I did interfere with something.” Lucien cast a pained look toward Max.

“Hell, what did you do?”

“I bought Arrow.”

Max did stop this time. “My horse?”

Lucien paused, turning toward him. “Yes. He’s being delivered tomorrow. If you want him, he’s yours.”

Max faced him. “Why would you do that?”

“Honestly? It was Ada’s idea. She said he was sold at Tattersall’s and asked me to find him. When I did, his new owner offered to sell him. It sounds as if he’s not happy.”

Fuck.Max felt like someone had reached into his chest and was squeezing his bloody heart. “Please tell me you mean the owner and not my horse.”

“I think you know what I meant.” Lucien twitched his lips in sympathy. “Sorry.”

“I’ll take him.” Max started walking again, his mind churning as they neared Piccadilly. Ada had inquired about Arrow? Old Max would have been furious at her interference. New Max, improved Max, wanted to kiss her.

“I’m so glad.” Lucien whistled for a moment. “It’s Tuesday, which means the ladies come into the men’s side of the club tonight. It’s the most entertaining night of the week. You should come downstairs. I’m sure Prudence will be there if you’d like to spend time with her. Dougal should be there too.”

“Why not? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Should we try the Siren’s Call again?” Lucien wondered. “I feel badly about how that ended.”

Max recalled how his night had finished and had no such regret. He didn’t say so. “I think we’ve graduated from the Siren’s Call. Your club is just fine. Splendid, in fact.”

“Good, because I honestly hate going to other places now.” Lucien chuckled.

“You really should be proud of what you’ve built,” Max said earnestly. “I’m not at all surprised. You’ve always been wonderful at bringing people together—and at coaxing out the best in people.”

“Not always. You were a tough nut to crack, my friend.”

Friend. Yes, they were friends, and Max had been foolish to ever think or say otherwise.

Max paused and turned to Lucien again, the busy traffic of Piccadilly going by despite the seriousness of this moment. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Lucien had stopped too, his gaze meeting and holding Max’s. “I would do it again.”

“Even if it meant getting injured again?” Lucien hadn’t been as badly wounded as Max, but he hadn’t emerged unscathed.

“Even if it meant death.”

“Well, damn. Now I feel very badly for my behavior.”

“Good, that was my intent.” Lucien said with a laugh, and Max joined him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t leave tomorrow after all.

By the time Ada walked into the library on the men’s side of the club that evening, she felt as though she’d been stretched taut on a torture rack. She’d spent the day trying to work and mostly failing as she kept thinking of Jonathan’s arrival and proposal. Memories of their time together, of the love they’d shared as well as the very sensible prospect of becoming Mrs. Hemmings, kept pressing to the front of her mind.

Ada went directly to the liquor, where a footman poured her a glass of Irish whiskey. “Thank you.” She moved to the corner where she could drink—probably too quickly—in relative privacy. But she kept her eye on the door.

Her vigilance was soon rewarded as Max strolled in. Only, he looked different. She realized his blond hair had been trimmed, and he was wearing what looked to be new clothes. She’d never seen them before and they appeared to be the latest fashion, certainly more current than what he typically wore.

She moved toward him without thinking, as if pulled by an invisible thread. His gaze met hers and seemed to sizzle with heat. Suddenly, the stress that was bunched in Ada’s shoulders dissipated. And she hadn’t even touched her whiskey.

“Max, you look splendid.” She couldn’t help staring at him, her body thrumming with desire.

“You are beautiful, as always,” he murmured.

“Have you seen the mezzanine?” she asked, overcome with the need to touch him, to kiss him, to somehow alleviate the desperate need pulsing within her.

His brow furrowed, and she took his hand, glad the library was virtually empty and didn’t contain any of their friends or family. Keeping an eye out for those very people, she led him quickly to the mezzanine, which was completely empty, as it should be this evening. Then she took him through a pair of draperies into the area that overlooked the ballroom below, which would also be empty, where the orchestra played during the assemblies. The drapes were closed on the ballroom side, so they couldn’t see the ballroom below.

She put her whiskey on a table where they kept refreshments for the orchestra. It was nearly dark with only the scant light filtering through the small break in the draperies they’d come through. “I’m afraid I can’t resist you at the moment. You look far too delectable.”

Ada launched herself against him, curling her hands around his neck. He clasped her tightly, lowering his head to kiss her. Their tongues met in a fierce dance as she thrust her fingers into his newly shorn hair. She stood on her toes, pressing her hips to his, desperate for relief against her sex.

He broke the kiss to feast upon her neck, cupping her nape as she arched backward in his embrace. “If I’d only known I just needed a new costume and a trim for my hair…” He gripped her backside and ground against her, giving her precisely what she wanted.

Moaning, she pulled his head back to hers and kissed him again, greedy for his taste and touch. “I need you, Max. Quickly.”

She looked about, wondering how they could accomplish what she wanted, and groaned in frustration.

He cupped her jaw, dragging his thumb across her cheek. “Shhh. Tell me what you want.”

“You. Inside me.”

He arched a brow. “You’re certain?”

She tugged at his hair. “Please.”

Reaching for the whisky, he lifted it to his lips and drained the contents. “Don’t want it to spill.” He smiled seductively before setting the empty glass back down. “Turn and put your elbows on the table.”

She stared at him, knowing what he meant, but taking a moment to process it because she’d never done that before. Excitement pulsed between her legs. She turned and leaned over the table.

He pulled her gown up and settled it about her waist. She heard his sharp intake of breath just before his hand moved over her backside, gently caressing her flesh.

“Move your legs farther apart.” His voice was low and harsh, and so provocative.

She could have listened to him give her commands all night and probably found her release from that alone. Opening herself up to him, she felt vulnerable, and that made her even more aroused. Her body screamed with want, every nerve on edge waiting for his touch where she wanted it most.

He squeezed and massaged her, attending to both globes of her backside. She was astonished at how his caresses heightened her desire and expectation. Then, at last, he stroked the folds of her sex, and she moaned over and over, her hips moving against his hand.

His touch was relentless, his fingers sliding into her, then rubbing her clitoris in a slow sequence of blissful torment. She gripped the other side of the table and pressed her cheek against the cool wood, closing her eyes as delicious pressure built in her sex. When he removed his hand, she cried out in distress. She’d been so close to her orgasm.

But his cock slid into her, and she cried out again, this time in relief. “Don’t let go of the table, Ada. I’m not going to be gentle.”

She nearly came right then.

Max seated himself fully inside her, then withdrew. He clasped her hips, holding her firmly as he drove into her hard. Ada held the table and kept her feet planted on the floor as he speared into her deep and fast, filling her with impossible ecstasy. She came like never before, her muscles clenching around him, his primal thrusts prolonging her pleasure.

He left her, and she somehow had the presence of mind to tell him to use her petticoat. He grunted, his legs still moving against the backs of her thighs as he spent himself.

Ada smiled against the table. “Thank you. That was lovely.”

“I’m sorry about your petticoat.” He smoothed her dress back down.

She straightened, and he held her arm as she turned. “It will be fine. I hope we didn’t crumple your new clothing. Whenever did you find time to get that?”

“Lucien asked his tailor to work a miracle today, and his valet trimmed my hair.”

“I noticed. You were exceedingly handsome before, but now you completely take my breath away.”

“You flatter me.” He kissed her again, softly this time, his lips teasing hers.

“And you drank my whiskey.” She slid her tongue into his mouth and tasted it.

He pulled back, laughing. “I’ll get you more. Shall we return?”

“Yes, I suppose we should before we’re missed. Should we enter the library separately, I wonder?”

“Will anyone really think we were shagging in the orchestra alcove?”

Ada grinned. “I doubt it.” She took his arm.

As they made their way back to the library, she asked how his interview with Lady Peterborough had gone.

“Better than I expected, actually. I thought I wouldn’t be able to see past my anger for my father—and for her as the woman who’d lured my father away from my mother.”

Ada struggled to take a breath. This was why she hadn’t told him about Jonathan, that he’d been her employer and married. “I’m glad to hear it went well.”

“I still can’t make sense of it. Lady Peterborough cared for him, and he must have cared for her. However, he seemed genuinely sad when my mother died and said he’d loved her. I can’t understand loving someone and seeking pleasure elsewhere.”

That hadn’t been the case with Jonathan. He hadn’t loved Letitia, and she hadn’t loved him. Still, Ada couldn’t bring herself to tell Max the truth. Even if he tried to understand, he would never see her in the same way again.

That sentiment made it seem as though she expected a future with him. There wasn’t one. He would return to Stonehill, and she would…what? Continue here in the position she adored or become the mistress of her own house with a family and a man who loved her?

A man she no longer loved or wanted, and those things were important. No, they were vital. Max had reminded her of that just now, just by simply being.

She would visit Jonathan tomorrow and decline his proposal. Immediately, she felt lighter.

“Let’s go to the members’ den,” Max said. “I haven’t been in there.”

She smiled up at him, grateful for every moment they had together. “Then we must.”

This proved to be a very bad decision as the first people they encountered were Reginald Huxton and Jonathan Hemmings.

“Evening, Ada!” Reggie said with a hearty smile.

Ada’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her head felt light, and her knees were like jelly. She clutched Max’s arm more tightly. “Allow me to present the Viscount Warfield.”

Reggie inclined his dark head. “Pleased to meet you, my lord.”

Ada forced herself to continue even though she wanted to turn and drag Max to the library. Oh, why hadn’t they gone there instead? “This is Mr. Reginald Huxton.”

Reggie quickly spoke. “And my guest, Mr. Jonathan Hemmings. He’s visiting from Cornwall, but then you know that already, Miss Treadway.”

Jonathan’s eyes glittered with joy. “I will be so happy when you address her as Mrs. Hemmings.”

Beside her, Max stiffened. He turned his head toward her. “What is he talking about?”

Panic clawed at Ada’s insides. She blurted, “He asked me to marry him. I haven’t yet given him an answer.” She sent Jonathan an irritated glance.

“How do you know each other?” Max asked in a rather stilted voice.

“Ada used to work for me,” Jonathan said. “Though, that is just how things began.” He smiled at Ada as if they shared a wonderful secret.

Max’s gaze darkened. “This is the man you told me about?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

His eyes suddenly blazed hot. He looked to Jonathan. “You’re just now getting around to marrying her? Not when she was carrying your child?”

Ada gasped, then slapped her palm over her mouth. Had he really just said that out loud?

Jonathan blanched. He stared at Ada. “What child?”

“Er, perhaps we should—” Whatever Reggie meant to say was cut off by Jonathan.

He stepped toward Ada, his expression full of love. “You didn’t tell me because of Letitia, because we couldn’t be together. Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry. But we can raise our child together now.”

Max turned toward Ada, his arm going slack, so she had to remove her hand. “Who is Letitia?”

Jonathan answered. “My wife. She passed away last year.”

Max stared at her, his voice and expression frigid, as if he were carved from granite.

Numbness overtook her. “I was their governess. I didn’t tell you because I knew it would upset you.”

“What a perfectly awful reason to lie. But then I suppose you saw me as too fragile to hear the truth.” He spun on his heel and stalked from the members’ den.

Ada fought to breathe. She felt as though she were being squeezed from all sides. She’d expected his anger, but not about that. Her fear had stemmed from Max learning she’d carried on an affair with a married man, not that she saw him as weak. That he thought that tore her apart.

Jonathan put his hand on her waist and guided her to the wall. “You look rather peaked, my darling. What can I do?”

She pulled away from him. “Nothing. I am not your darling, nor am I your concern. I should have told you earlier that I don’t want to marry you.”

His brow furrowed. “But what of our child?”

“There is no child. I chose not to have it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Of course he didn’t. “I was foolish to carry on with you, to love you. I was young and vulnerable, desperate for any sort of connection, especially for love. If that’s what it even was. I honestly don’t know anymore.” She knew she was always more concerned for others than for herself. Her family and their treatment of her had taught her that she was of lesser value, that she needed to work hard to care for others and to never let them down.

“Of course it was love,” he insisted. “I still love you. So much.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t love you.” Ada was desperate to go after Max, to beg him to listen. That he thought she judged him too weak to hear the truth nearly drove her to her knees. She put her hand on the wall. “I should have told you when you called earlier, but I was so shocked to see you. Our time together was a lifetime ago. I have a new life now.” And she desperately loved someone else.

“It feels like yesterday to me,” he said with a touch of defiance.

“Go home, Jonathan.” She agonized over the heartbreak in his eyes, but she couldn’t change that for him.

Belatedly, she wondered how many people had overheard their conversation. They’d kept their voices low, but whatever damage had been done was unchangeable.

She could only try to repair what really mattered. Spinning about, she rushed out of the members’ den and upstairs to Max’s room, thinking that was where he must have gone.

Before knocking, she tried to take a deep breath and failed. She’d been an utter fool.