Page 6 of Most Sought-After Scoundrel in London
“Very well, think fast, and tell me what is it that you wish to know most?”
“Share with me the name of the lady you are to protect, and I’ll promise not to follow you about.”At the sight of his satisfied smile she added in a mumble for her ears only, “...in broad daylight.”
“I trust you to keep your word.”Lord Hurlington scanned the gardens and then bent at the waist, cupped his hand about his mouth, and whispered into her ear, “The answer to your question is our dear hostess, the Countess of Hadfield.”
“Lady Bronwyn?”Violet squinted at the man standing before her.“Then you must be… Oh, my, you’re a member of the Network.”She pinched her lips together tight as soon as Lord Hurlington’s brows knitted.
He visibly forced his features to relax.With a lopsided fake grin, he replied, “Network?Certainly you don’t really believe in secret societies and gossip of that kind.”
He wasn’t fooling her, and she wasn’t in the mood to play word games.Placing her hands on her hips, she shared, “I’ve gathered enough evidence to be certain that PORFs—the Protectors of the Royal Family and the secret Network symbolized by harped angels do in fact exist.However, I’m no fool to go about spreading such gossip nor do I have time at the present to share with you what I have learned over the years.”
His relaxed facade vanished, and one of sheer panic appeared as Lord Hurlington's eyes scanned their surroundings.“Youmusttell me what you know.”
Violet shook her head slowly.“We agreed upon one answer for one promise.”She escaped from his arms that had loosened most likely due to shock, and she ducked out of his grasp.“A good eve to you, Lord Hurlington.”She gave him a wink and a curtsy and then turned and ran.She entered the bustling ballroom, where she hoped to find Lady Bertha ready to depart, for she desperately needed to escape to her rooms at Matron Manor and sort through her encounter with Lord Hurlington.
Stunned into immobility with his gaze firmly affixed on Lady Violet as she fled, Cameron muttered, “Blast the clever woman.”
What was he to do?He should inform the Council immediately, but what action would they take?Never having questioned the rules before, he was suddenly resistant to do what he’d been molded to do all his life for a woman.No, not merely any lady, but for the wickedly wonderful Lady Violet.
He began to pace around the tree that shielded him from others who might traverse the garden path.If he reported Lady Violet, he’d wager that the Council would appoint someone to trail the lady and investigate into how much she really knew.He pictured one of his counterparts getting better acquainted with Lady Violet by employing the most efficient and time-tested strategy to gain information from another.Gain your target's trust and never let them discover the truth.
Turning on his heel, he began to pace in the opposite direction.Mayhap he should simply carry out the task himself and save the Council the trouble.With a broad smile, Cameron strode through the gardens and re-entered Hadfield Manor though the servants’ entrance.
A footman with a tray of empty glasses walked directly in front of Cameron.With agility only gained from years of training, he steadied both the man and the tray and said, “Apologies, dear chap.”
The footman blinked and then as recognition dawned upon him, he scowled back at Cameron.“Hurlington, one of these days…”
“Sorry, Horace, I’ve not the time to chat this eve.”Cameron gave his childhood friend a wink and quickly made his way through the tight halls utilized by the servants to gain quick access to and from rooms.As he reentered the twinkling ballroom, he immediately scanned the shadowed corners Lady Violet was most likely to occupy.Where in the damnation was the woman?
Spying Lady Constance and recently widowed Mrs.Sinclair, two of Lady Violet’s close friends, huddled along the wall, he made his way across the room.
The pair’s conversation ceased as he stood before them.“A good evening, Lady Constance.Mrs.Sinclair.”He bowed but kept his gaze locked on the women to see in which direction their gazes might flicker.His chest tightened as soon as Mrs.Sinclair glanced over toward the terrace door.Damnation, he was an imbecile for not ensuring Lady Violet’s safe return.Half turned in the direction of the terrace, he caught a glimpse of a woman sneaking her way back into the room on the coat tails of a gaggle of gentlemen making their way over to the refreshments table.Cameron couldn’t help but admire Lady Violet’s stealth and ability to move about without drawing attention to herself.What other skills did the woman possess that would be of interest to the elders of the Council?There was only one way to know and that was to test the woman.
With a rather duplicitous plan formulating in his mind, Cameron bowed once more and asked, “Shall I fetch you lovely ladies a refreshment?”
With pinkened cheeks, Lady Constance nodded.However, the rather observant Mrs.Sinclair rose to her feet and pulled her companion up as well.“I am rather parched, Lord Hurlington.Perhaps you could escort us over to fetch a glass of ratafia.”
Time to don the image of a rogue he had carefully cultivated over the years.Cameron winged his arms out for the pair and, with a mischievous smile that he had perfected, he led the ladies over to the refreshments table.With his original plan to corner Lady Violet and question her foiled by Mrs.Sinclair, Cameron’s mind raced for an alternative scheme to get the woman alone.
With a tug on his arm, Mrs.Sinclair whispered, “If I were you, Lord Hurlington, I would simply retire for the eve and resume your attempts early on the morrow… when a certain individual might be visiting the flower mart.”
If he wasn’t trained to mask his reactions, Mrs.Sinclair might have garnered a rather wide-eyed look of disbelief from him.Instead, he swallowed a chuckle as he realized widows were not to be underestimated and answered, “A grand idea, one I greatly appreciate you sharing with me, Mrs.Sinclair.I am in your debt.”
“Oh, I shall indeed remember you owe me a favor, Lord Hurlington.A great boon at that.”
The smirk he received from Mrs.Sinclair combined with her words sent a shiver down his spine as the woman turned and led Lady Constance to join the gaggle of widows that were overtly watching their every move.Shaking off the shroud of doom that had settled upon his shoulders, he strode through Hadfield Manor ready to return home to formulate a plan to confront the confounding Lady Violet.
Violet’s eyes closed as she inhaled the sweet scent of blooms and counted.One…Two…
Her shadow ducked behind a stall, and she stilled her shoulders so as not to give away the chuckle that was threatening to escape her.Lord Hurlington had emerged from the shadows the moment she had left Matron Manor.If she hadn’t adopted the habit of surveying the street from her chamber window as she broke her fast, Violet wouldn’t have noticed Lord Hurlington pacing in the alley opposite Matron Manor.Nor would her overactive imagination have been triggered had she not been attempting to read the man’s lips as he muttered.Skilled at deciphering others’ words from afar, Violet had struggled to settle her racing heart as she became fascinated with the man’s mouth, which left her wondering what it would feel like pressed up against her own.Blast her wayward thoughts....
Four.Five.
Slowly swiveling on the ball of her foot, Violet turned and opened her eyes, scanning the row of flower sellers, ready to confront the man who had her mind awhirl.Eyes narrowed, Violet’s brow creased.Where was Lord Hurlington?
Violet stilled and focused on the noises around her.The ever-so-slight shuffle of boots combined with the warmth at her back made her realize Lord Hurlington had managed to slip behind her in the few seconds she had her eyes closed.Rather than turning to face the man as she had originally planned, she shifted slightly and bent at the waist to examine a bunch of bright yellow roses to take a moment to gather her thoughts.
“Hmm… Lovely.”Lord Hurlington’s gravelly voice next to her ear had Violet sharply straightening, causing her back to briefly brush up against the man’s solid chest.His hands clasped about her upper arms, holding her in place.
