Chapter Nineteen
Eliza had beenreadying for bed when she received the Black Widow’s summons in much the same way as the first—through her maid.
After wringing a reluctant agreement from Cassie to do whatever she must to make sure Eliza’s absence was not discovered, she’d slipped from the house. This time, however, the Black Widow’s carriage was waiting in the mews.
After she arrived, she had a short conference with the Black Widow, who subsequently left to arrange things as Eliza had requested. Eliza had asked about Adrian, but the widow would only say that Adrian had suffered a shock and had subsequently pleaded with her to arrange a meeting with the Blackbird.
Eliza had mixed feelings.
She was haunted by the expression on Adrian’s face when he’d seen her on his doorstep with Mr. Vane—an expression of shock and bewildered pain. The only plausible cause she could think of had been the sight of her with Mr. Vane.
But that didn’t make any sense.
She’d felt as if Adrian was coming to care for her, but she hadn’t discerned grand passion in their tender kiss. If he’d fallen for her, why had he failed to call on her for an entire week?
She’d convinced herself that he’d kissed her only because he’d been caught up in the moment, disoriented both by the Waterloo painting and by the things he’d unintentionally revealed.
And when she received the summons, she’d become even more certain she’d mistaken friendship for growing attachment. If he were coming to care for Eliza Wainwright, why contact the Blackbird?
Her musings left her oddly hurt.
And angry.
On the other hand, if she were honest, she wanted to see Redver again as the Blackbird. She wanted to see if there was, indeed, a spark between them, and how it was different from the spark she felt when with him as herself.
Why did she feel so drawn to Adrian?
Why did just the flick of his gaze leave her excited and trembling, while Mr. Vane’s actual touch left her nothing but cold?
Stupid, traitorous, wayward body.
Why did it not simply respond as she commanded?
Perhaps, if she could see him, she could make her decision. A life of ease with the comfortable Mr. Vane, or…
Or what?
Adrian had made her no offers, either as the Blackbird, or as herself. Well, not unless she counted offering to be her friend. She wished he was her friend in truth. She could use a confidant she trusted.
She entered the chamber they’d used on the prior visit. As she’d requested, Adrian had been, not only blindfolded, but bound.
She was not taking any chances.
At her entrance, Adrian lifted his head. “Blackbird?”
“I heard you wanted to see me again,” Eliza answered an altered, sultry voice.
“Was this”—he yanked at his bindings—“necessary?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. If you were in my position, would you have trusted me to remain blindfolded?”
He flattened his lips. “You might have trusted to my honor.”
“Honor,” she said hotly, “is a code between men. An unspoken agreement never extended to unwanted children and women outside wedlock, and only rarely to wives. Wives men deem well-behaved.”
The ghost of a smile haunted his lips. “I’d forgotten how biting you can be.”
“Biting,” she repeated bitterly.
