he a particular friend of yours?’
Unexpectedly the blood rushed to her face and Adelaide cursed her reaction, especially when she saw the man’s obvious curiosity.
‘I am newly come to London, Mr Friar. I barely know the earl.’
‘But you have heard the stories, no doubt? He is not to be trusted and it would be wise for any woman to keep her distance.’
Such a confidence made Adelaide shiver.
‘A strong opinion, sir. Is he an acquaintance of yours?’
The man shook his head. ‘No, but he led the wife of my cousin astray and it cost her her life, an ending she did not in any way deserve.’
‘You are implying then some sense of blame on the part of Lord Wesley, sir?’ She had made a point of asking Lucy and her other acquaintances here about the chequered past of Gabriel Hughes since meeting him, partly out of interest, but mostly out of the feeling he was somehow being wrongly dealt to. She could not explain her connection with a man who appeared to be everything she had always abhorred and yet... ‘From the stories I have heard it was your cousin’s wife who had absconded with her lover in the first place?’
This time Friar laughed out loud. ‘A woman who is not afraid to voice all that she thinks is a rare jewel in the London court. Why are you not married ten times over already, Miss Ashfield? Can these English lords not recognise a veritable treasure when they see one?’
She brushed off his nonsense though a part of her was pleased at such praise. ‘A woman’s need for a husband is overrated in my opinion, though my uncle is not to be persuaded otherwise.’
For a moment his visage was one of shock before he managed to drag his expression back.
‘Well, Miss Ashfield, I have always applauded honesty in a woman. Would you take a walk with me, perchance, so that I might tell you a story?’
Adelaide looked around. She could see Lord Berrick making his way towards her and wanted to avoid him.
‘Perhaps a turn on the terrace for privacy might be in order.’ Friar said this as he saw where she looked.
She did not wish to be alone with Mr Friar, she thought, remembering Lord Wesley’s warning, but glancing through the glass she observed others lingering there and enjoying the unusual balminess of the evening.
It could not hurt for five minutes to listen to what he had to say, surely, and with the growing warmth in the room she would appreciate a little fresh air.
Once outside Adelaide could tell Mr Friar was trying to think up what words to give her next as he looked over the small balustrade leading into the garden. Finally he spoke.
‘There are some who would say that the Earl of Wesley is not the fop he pretends to be. My cousin, for example, was completely crushed by the loss of his precious wife. He does not believe her demise was an accident at all.’
‘What does he believe, then?’
‘If I could speak plainly, I would say he thinks Wesley killed her for he had become tired of her neediness as his lover and wanted her gone.’
Shock ran through Adelaide at the bitterness in his words and also that such an accusation should be levelled at Gabriel Hughes. ‘Presumably the courts thought otherwise, Mr Friar, as I heard there was a case of law to be answered for it.’ The thought did cross her mind as to why she should be such a stalwart in her defence of a man whose reputation was hardly pristine, given everything she knew of Lord Wesley had come through gossip.
‘Indeed they did, Miss Ashfield, but justice and money walk hand in hand and the Wesley title holds its own sway in such decisions.’
‘Such are the words of those who perceive their case lost by some unfair disadvantage that they can never prove. Better to move on and make your life over than look back and wreak havoc with all that is left.’
‘You are not the more normal sort of débutante, Miss Ashfield, with your strong opinions.’
‘I will take that as a compliment, Mr Friar, for I am older and a lot wiser. Wise enough to know that people can say anything of anyone and yet the saying of it does not make it true.’
He laughed, but the sound was not pleasant. ‘Have you ever been to the Americas?’
When she shook her head he continued.
‘I own a large property in Baltimore, in Coles Harbor on the west side of the Jones Falls River. I have come to England to find a partner who might enjoy the place with me, neither a timid bride, Miss Ashfield, nor a young one. I need a woman who would cope with the rigours of the New World and one with enough of a fortune to help me build my own legacy.’
‘I see.’ And Adelaide suddenly did. She had left the relative safety of the frying pan that was Lord Berrick and jumped into a fire.
It was how the business of marriage worked in London, after all, brides were only a commodity and an article of trade. Men put their collateral on the table and a prudent woman weighed up her options and accepted the most favourable. For life. For ever. It was exactly as Aunt Eloise had said it would be, was it not? Women sold their souls for marriage and regretted it until the end of time.
The thought of it all held her mute, but George Friar seemed to have taken her silence as acquiescence, for he leaned forward and took her fingers in his own before his lips came down hard upon the back of them.
Cold, wet and grasping. She could not believe he would dare to touch her like this out here amongst others, but as she broke away and looked around she realised everybody on this end of the terrace had left to go inside.
Mr Friar hadn’t released her, either, his fingers still entwined in hers and allowing no means of escape, the expression on his face ardent as he breathed out rapidly.
‘Oh, come now, Miss Ashfield, I am certain we could do better than that. You look like a woman with a great deal of sensuality about you and, if I say so myself, I am considered something of a catch by the unmarried women of Baltimore. A new life, an adventure and the opportunity to use your considerable fortune in a way that could double it again. Take the chance of it whilst you can. Caution can be most stultifying.’
Adelaide thought quickly. She needed to diffuse this situation and get back inside without causing even more of a scene. ‘I am sure you are as you say, sir, a veritable catch, but believe me when I tell you that I have no want for a husband despite my presence here.’ This explanation solved nothing, however, for his grip tightened as he pulled her towards him. ‘I will ask you one more time to please let me go, sir.’ She hated the slight shiver in her words as he met her glance directly and lifted his brows. A game? He thought it such?
‘One kiss, then, to convince you. Surely that would not be amiss?’
The sharp slap of fingers on his cheek and his legs caught on the edge of a pot plant tipping him off balance. Even as she reached forward to stop him tumbling he was gone, falling over the balustrade in an ungainly surprise and lying prone and motionless on the path below.
My God, had she killed him? Forgetting about convention and her own safety, she scrambled down after him and saw in relief that he still breathed.
She could
