Page 63 of Dukes Are Forever
* * *
Itwaswhat he wanted.
But as the door closed behind her, Malloryn realized he was staring at it. And both the maids had noticed.
He tilted his head in recognition to them, then turned and moved toward his library.
Adele's perfume filled the air. It always did. No matter where he went in this damned house, she haunted him.
Slowly, he drew the papers she'd given him out of his waistcoat pocket and smoothed the crumples from them.
The second he started down the list he realized she might just know what she was talking about. There were columns detailing the most likely candidates. Little notes decorated each name, scathing indictments of each lord and what they liked to get up to in their spare time.
Lord Higginbotham—liked to bathe in blood to keep his skin youthful for the never-ending stream of handsome young footmen he replaces each month. Is currently being investigated by the Nighthawks for the disappearance of at least two of them.
The Earl of Carstoke— frequently rants about how one used to be able to toss a handful of coin to a girl on the street as repayment and nobody would dare bleat.
Lord Abriel—cannot attain "permanence" without putting his hands around his mistress's throat. Resents the fact bruises upon one's thrall are now frowned upon.
How the hell did she know that?
That Society of Roses project she'd started. It had to be. The girls must all talk, and Adele kept track of everything. If she'd been of a mind to resort to blackmail, she could most likely bring the entire Echelon to its knees. He suddenly wondered just what was discussed in the powder rooms of a ball.
Keeping her out of this was for the best.
But he couldn't help crossing to the window and watching her ascend into the carriage.
She'd surprised him more than once in the last few days.
* * *
"Well,that's enough about me. What haveyoubeen up to?" Hattie asked, finally running out of things to say.
Making war and then love with my husband. And now it seems we're back to war.
"Nothing in particular," Adele replied, granting her sister the same vapid smile she'd mastered when she was twelve. "Trying to decide what to wear to Lady Haynes's ball."
The distraction worked. Hattie instantly started babbling about her newest silk gown.
Hattie's cheeks had lost their smooth plumpness of youth, and at seventeen, she was starting to truly blossom into a stunning young woman. Adele might have been as vibrant and innocent at that age. She honestly couldn't remember it. Instead, she felt like she'd been cursed with cynicism from the day she was born, her exterior hardened by her first bloodstained glimpse of the world around her.
Adele glanced down into the depths of her hot chocolate.
She wasn't the only one who'd noticed the way Hattie had bloomed. Several blue blood lords had asked Hattie to waltz at the last ball they'd both attended, and she'd seen them circling the young girl like vultures.
Hattie had even begun to mention Lord Seymour's son in the sort of voice that left her slightly breathless.
She didn't, however, mention Lord Corvus.
Adele wondered if that was to spare Adele's feelings, or whether her sister honestly wasn't aware of his lordship's interest in her. Lady Hamilton had been paid more than handsomely this month, which meant she had to hold up her end of the bargain and refuse to let the bastard anywhere near Hattie.
"Oh, look at the time," Hattie suddenly said. "You should have stopped me. I've spent the entire afternoon filling your ears with gossip."
"It's happy gossip. Reminds me of my days as a debutante." Gathering her reticule, she pushed to her feet. "But I should be going. Cook will want my help planning next week's menu."
She kissed Hattie on the cheek, pausing as she saw the shadow watching them.
Sir George Hamilton loomed in the doorway of the parlor like a behemoth, his heavy brow shadowing his eyes. She didn't know how long he'd been there, but she didn't like the way he looked at her.
