when a carriage carrying two ladies and two gentleman stopped and caught and held her attention. Her eyes became riveted on one of the gentlemen. She watched him spring down and hold out his hand to assist one of the ladies with the tender care of a devoted friend—or lover. She was a tall, glittering young woman dressed in cobalt blue silk, her dark hair arranged superbly on her proudly erect head, the silken tresses threaded with sparkling jewels.
The gentleman was a tall, extremely striking man. He was impeccably dressed, his knee-length claret coat and rich dark hair emphasising the pristine whiteness of the cascade of lace at his throat and wrists. He declined the wearing of the customary wig, and Edwina thought how suited his own hair was to him. Suddenly her heart was beating wildly. She stared wide-eyed at the man, unaware that she had stood up. It was Adam. She was sure it was. If only he would turn his head, so she could see his face more clearly.
As if he felt the pull of her eyes he spun his head round and met her gaze head on. An expression Edwina couldn’t recognise flickered across his handsome features, and even from a distance of several yards his eyes seemed very bright. Then one corner of his mouth cocked up in a smile, the same mocking smile she remembered. A sweet longing radiated through her, setting her pulse racing.
Not wishing to embarrass him by drawing further attention to herself, she turned. Just as she was about to disappear into the crowd, something clamped her upper arm like an iron band and spun her round. Rage edged Jack’s deep voice as he thrust his face close.
‘So, you young guttersnipe. Thought you’d run out on Jack, did you? Thought you’d escape me?’ His small black eyes blazed. ‘I said I’d find you—told you what would happen.’
Overcome with fear, Edwina panicked. A groan of terror tore from her constricted chest, and she pulled away, cringing from the blow she knew would follow. When it came she fell to the ground. Coloured sparks exploded in her eyes and the world began to spin, before blackness enfolded her.
From across the street, horrified, Adam saw what had happened. His eyes flashed with blue fire. ‘Go in, will you,’ he said quickly to his companions. ‘I’ll join you shortly.’ They watched in stunned amazement as he ran across the street.
The crowd that had gathered around the unconscious youth parted to let him through. ‘Stand back,’ he ordered. ‘Give the lad some air.’ Crouching down beside Edwina, he raised her up. Her head fell back limply and blood began to trickle from the cut on the right side of her small face. Adam raised his head and looked at the thug responsible, a murderous glint in his blue eyes.
‘Damn you! If the lad doesn’t recover, you’ll regret this,’ he said, and, for all its quiet, his voice was like a suddenly unsheathed blade.
Jack turned and lumbered away. He disappeared down an alley, moving with a speed and agility that could not have been anticipated in a man of his bulk.
Adam gently raised the broken, pitiful burden into his arms, and to the amazement of the crowd he carried the lad off across the square. His arrival at the house just off the piazza with an unconscious street urchin in his arms caused a furore of bawdy comments from both male and scantily clad female occupants, who sat around talking and laughing and openly caressing each other.
With the supreme indifference of a true gentleman toward lesser mortals, Adam ignored the lewd remarks and addressed a servant, his voice rich and compelling. ‘Fetch Mrs Drinkwater at once.’
Right on cue an elegantly attired woman in middle age moved slowly down the stairs.
‘Why, it’s you, Adam. I figured it must be. Who else would make so much bluster? Still, ’tis a pleasure to see you.’ She gave the man she had known since childhood an adoring, almost sainted look, before dropping her gaze to the boy and bending over him with concern. ‘Bless me! What have we here?’
Adam’s voice was urgent. ‘I need your help, Dolly. The lad’s injured and needs tending.’
‘I can see that. Who is he?’
‘A friend.’
Looking at the deeply etched lines of concern and strain on Adam’s face, Dolly realised the boy must be quite special. ‘Tell me what happened?’
‘Some thug being too liberal with his fists,’ he ground out.
‘Oh, the poor mite. Bring him upstairs. We’ll find him a bed right away.’
Following Dolly up the stairs and into a bedroom, Adam gently deposited his burden on the bed and loosened the fastenings at Edwina’s throat. She groaned and rolled her head from side to side, but didn’t open her eyes.
‘Who is he?’ Dolly asked as she busied herself with the unpleasant task of pulling off Ed’s oversized, almost worn-out boots.
‘He lives in St Giles. I hired him to help me find Toby.’
Dolly glanced up. ‘Still no news of the lad, then?’
‘No, unless Ed has something to offer.’
‘I do hope so,’ Dolly said sympathetically, knowing how important it was to Adam that he find Toby—his cousin Olivia’s boy. ‘And your cousin Silas?’ she asked quietly, keeping her eyes down. ‘What has become of him? It’s so long since I had news of any sort from Tap-low—not that I seek it or care.’
Looking at Dolly’s bent head and recalling the dreadful business that had forced her to leave Taplow Court, where she had been employed as housekeeper, Adam’s expression softened. ‘Silas is dead, Dolly—a month ago.’
She looked at him and nodded, digesting his words and straightening her back, knowing Adam would feel no remorse over the demise of that particular gentleman—and she even less—although there was a time when there was nothing she would not have done for Silas Clifford. She had been at Taplow Court just one month when he had taken her into his bed, and, though he didn’t have an ounce of affection for her—taking her body night after night without the courtesy of a caress, without the slightest endearment and with less feeling than a dog for a bitch—she became a necessity in his life and she had loved him with a passion that had made her ache.
‘Thank God,’ she said.
‘I always admired the way you put what happened behind you and got on with your life, Dolly. It can’t have been easy.’
‘It was very hard, Adam. But I cured myself of what Silas did to me before a serious depression could occur. Sadly the same cannot be said of your cousin Olivia—poor thing. What happened to the young lady Silas was to marry?’
Adam shrugged. ‘She disappeared without a trace.’ His firm lips curved in a wry smile. ‘Apparently Silas inspired in her nothing but repugnance and she refused to be forced into marriage. Young women of seventeen do not willingly give themselves in marriage to licentious monsters more than twice their age. When her uncle insisted, it appears she ran away and has not been seen since. I never met her, but, whoever she is, I admire her courage.’
‘And what of you, Adam? As heir to your cousin’s estate you are now the Earl of Taplow. Are felicitations in order—or commiserations?’
His look was sombre. ‘I never sought the title, you know that, Dolly. I always hoped Silas would marry and have children. My profession and my position as the Earl of Taplow do not rest easy together. There are many who would not approve.’
‘Since
