Chapter Thirteen
Aquarter hourearlier, Adrian had cantered through the park gate. He’d taken the tisane as planned. Even so, he rode a half-length behind Harbury, leaving his friend to bear the brunt of social interaction. With a polite expression affixed to his frozen face, he slowly merged into the sedate flow of prime blood and preening ton.
He shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, so out of place.
This park. The city. The best of Great Britian’s traditions and ideals. They were all he’d held during the very, public, very sordid decay of his parents’ marriage. They were also why he chosen to live with Harbury’s father—the finest gentleman he’d known at the time, the embodiment, he’d thought, of all he held dear.
Later, those ideals had spurred him to purchase a commission.
A king kept in check was better than a self-crowned emperor with an endless lust for blood, land, and power. They’d finally defeated that emperor, and yet, ever since he’d returned home, peacetime pleasantries felt heavy and nonsensical. Added to the secrets and scandal that had always made him feel apart fromhis peers—branded, in a sense—he’d a long fight ahead, both internally and externally.
Even more so after last night.
Bessie and the Blackbird had played a devious trick. And yet, that trick had forced him to face a mirror. He hadn’t liked what he’d seen.
He intended to change course, to meet the moment, overcome his afflictions, and be the brother and guardian his sister deserved.
But could he?
While undressing last night, he’d discovered a long strand of chestnut brown hair. His limbs had grown heavy. He’d had to swallow down a lump in his throat.
The Blackbird had been so curious. So vital. So witty and so frank.
She’d given rise to a desire to know her, to protect her, to enchant and enthrall her, and then she’d cut him down. Even now, part of him felt a jolt whenever he laid eyes on a brown-haired woman in white. Which wasn’t at all reasonable.
He’d vowed to forget her and forget her he would.
Eventually.
At present, however, the Blackbird refused be ousted from a perch inside his head. He felt her there, shifting from foot to foot, eyeing his every thought, every action, with suspicion. User of women, who are you to think you can change?
He clenched his teeth beneath his tight smile and nodded to a man he’d recognized from one of Caroline’s salons. The man hesitated and then furtively glanced from side to side before returning his greeting.
Point proven.
Except for his family, a few of his soldier comrades, and Harbury, people of the polite world vastly preferred to deny andto forget the very scandal he represented. But to do so, they needed to shun his presence.
Who wouldn’t feel better without a constant reminder of shame?
“I can’t believe you talked me into coming with you,” Adrian muttered.
“Did we not swear to support one another through the worst of trials?”
“I fail to understand why you consider courting a pretty girl a trial,” Adrian replied. “All you’ve promised to do is dance attendance on her for a few weeks. Once the young bucks see she’s secured your interest, they’ll be banging down Lady Asquith’s door, and you’ll be off the proverbial hook.”
“Pfft.” Harbury made a derisive sound. “Did I say she was pretty?”
“Yes.” Adrian raised his brows. “I distinctly remember you using the wordpretty.”
“Must have been, if I asked her to dance.” Harbury shrugged. “Damned thing is I don’t remember exactly what she looked like.”
Adrian grunted. “I understandaskingwas not involved.”
Harbury glanced over his shoulder and scowled.
“Would you honestly have me believe,” Adrian continued, “you practically ruined the girl, and you cannot remember what she looked like?”
“I told you—I required an immediate distraction.”
