Revenge Wears Rubies (26 page)

Galen came in a glorious spasm, the crème jetting from his body in an ecstasy that bordered on pain, and he covered himself quickly with the sheet, dismayed at the sense of shame that shuddered through him on the heels of his release.

He’d never been so consumed by a woman, and he worried that he hadn’t even begun to slake his lust where Haley Moreland was concerned.

The carriage let her off at the head of a street of fashionable shops to allow her to walk a short distance and then safely hire her own hansom cab to get home. Haley smiled at the scheme to protect her reputation, warmed by Galen’s care and attention to detail.

Her steps took her past the colorful wares in the many-paned windows, but Haley kept her eye on her steps to avoid the mud and puddles on the thoroughfare, and her thoughts were still with her lover.

“Miss Moreland!”

Haley looked up in surprise at the unexpected greeting.

“Out for a bit of shopping?” Rand Bascombe asked cheerfully. “But where is your maid or even your dear Mrs. Shaw? May I escort you to your carriage?”

“My aunt . . .” Haley took a deep breath, wishing once again that she’d mastered the art of deception that others seemed to take for granted. “My aunt thought she might need it for errands, so I was going to use a hackney carriage.”

“Allow me to assist you, then, for it can be a bit harrowing for a lady to hire one alone.” He held out his arm. “That is, if you’ve finished your shopping?”

Haley nodded and put her hand lightly on his arm, unwilling to carry the charade too far and risk saying something that would betray herself. “Yes, thank you.”

“London is not a town I would recommend a lady going about on her own, Miss Moreland. But then you strike me as a resourceful creature, and very astute for a girl so remarkably fresh from the countryside.”

Haley wasn’t sure how to accept a compliment that came so close to an insult by implying that any other girl from the country would have suffered a lack of acuity. “I’m sure common sense is a portable enough quality, Mr. Bascombe, to serve a woman anywhere she might find herself.”

“Quite right!” He began to guide her through the passersby as he continued. “And it’s that candor and intelligence that I’m sure won Mr. Trumble’s heart. Naturally, you realize, I admire your fiancé’s ambitions and his knack for making friends.”

Their broken engagement was not yet public knowledge, and Haley had no intention of correcting the man. Even so, she felt uncomfortable in a lie and tried to skirt the topic. “He’s a good man.”

“And your knack for making new friends is no less admirable, Miss Moreland.”

“I . . . would guess a person’s social circle can always be widened and improved.” Haley suddenly felt unsure of where Mr. Bascombe was driving the conversation.

“Oh, yes! But please tell me, what is
your
impression of Mr. Galen Hawke?”

Haley could only pray her expression didn’t reflect the extent of her shock and panic at his casual inquiry.
He doesn’t know anything! And if I start sputtering like a schoolgirl, it will be exactly the disaster that Galen cautioned me to avoid!
“He seems very . . . interesting. But, then we’ve made so many new and interesting acquaintances since coming to London.”

“He is more than interesting!” Rand slowed his steps as they reached the corner. “He is an absolute mystery, my dear. I suspect he was a hero of some kind, during the Troubles in India, for there have been whispers of a most unique nature about him.”

“A hero?” she asked, captivated by the idea despite herself.

“It’s humility, to be certain, that keeps him from speaking of it, or of the fortune he seems to have made there. Or is there something else more sinister?”

“How can you even suggest such a thing?” Her alarm at the conversation escalated in a single heartbeat.

He stopped and gave her a knowing look that did nothing to dampen her discomfort. “It’s difficult to know what to suggest when a man refuses to share even the smallest detail about his adventures and continues to rebuff almost every invitation that’s issued—unless, of course,
your
name is on the guest list.”

She said nothing, frozen in place by her fear of what he would say next.

Rand Bascombe smiled. “It’s a happy coincidence, and I was a fool the other evening to press you to betray whatever confidences he’s shared with you. Have you forgiven me, Miss Moreland?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

“Ah, here is a carriage for you!” He raised his hand to hail the driver to stop directly in front of them, handing the man up a coin with instructions to take her to the rented brownstone address. Then he turned back to her, as if all were right in the world. “We are friends again, and I am glad for it, Miss Moreland. I shall continue to look for you and your dear family when I am out, and I hope”—he bowed slightly and touched the rim of his hat—“that you will continue to enjoy your time in Town, and make the very most of it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bascombe.” She was numb as she climbed into the carriage, shaken but unsure. It was possible that she was simply filtering an innocent exchange through her own guilty conscience and reacting to insinuations that Mr. Bascombe hadn’t intended.

She was at a loss. If he knew of her affair with Hawke, she could hardly say anything without confirming his suspicions, or worse; if he knew nothing, and she overreacted, then she would create the rumor herself.

She let out a long, slow, shaky breath and regained her composure. If anything, the strange incident with Bascombe strengthened Galen’s case for continuing in secret for the time being. And as the carriage pulled away from the street, Haley began to feel better, and even reminded herself that bumping into an acquaintance while shopping only provided more of an alibi should anyone ever ask where she was spending her afternoons.

Oh, dear, I’m growing craftier by the hour. Is that a change for the better?
She sighed, unsure of anything but her feelings when it came to Galen. She leaned back against the cushions and indulged in the newest memories of his body to hers. Every touch made her feel safe and desired, and she clung to that sensation as she returned alone to her precarious life.
I have to weather the storm when Father learns I’ve broken my engagement . . . if only to make Galen proud of me later when he learns of what I’ve done. Then I’ll be able to tell Galen that I kept both our secret and my own honor by not deceiving Herbert.

Chapter
15

“What a delight to add you to our intimate dinner, Mr. Hawke!” Lady MacLean marveled aloud yet again, and Galen watched out of the corner of his eye as Haley’s blush renewed its bloom.

It hadn’t been entirely easy, but it was worth it to see Haley’s reaction to his presence. And Galen was also enjoying the unexpected bonus of seeing Miss Haley Moreland once again in the exact same red dress he’d imagined her wearing in such erotic detail. He’d meant to just be present, and tease her if he could manage it without alerting the hostess too much, but the sight of her, so beautiful and so familiar—and within reach—was proving to be quite the temptation.

Aunt Alice had eagerly welcomed his presence and, as usual, was doing her best to assist him in any way she could. “So lucky that you could join us, especially as Mr. Trumble was unable to make it and poor Haley has no dinner partner!”

“Yes, extremely lucky—for me.” He bowed over his hostess’s hand, and was rewarded with Trumble’s vacant chair. Throughout the meal, that put him less than four place settings away from the delectable Miss Moreland, and Galen did his best to just savor it.

She was a skilled wit, and he watched her charm an older colonel into sharing some of his adventures in the Congo, and then just as sweetly keep the widower to her left amused and included in the exchange, until Galen was sure that both older men were besotted enough to envy the absent Mr. Trumble’s good fortune.

Almost as entertaining was watching that same man try to steer clear of Mrs. Shaw’s flirtatious hints and shocking pronouncements that for any widower looking to marry for a third time, he should consider a wife with a little snow on the roof as she had already demonstrated an ability to survive. Even the colonel and Lord MacLean kept their heads down rather than enter into the fray.

As for his conversation partners, Lady MacLean was very gracious and all too happy to share with him the details on their current renovations of their property in the country. Galen did his best to nod and make the appropriate comments when it came to landscaping and the dire consequences of a lack of irrigation, all the while keeping his eyes on the siren in red across the table.

“Why are you looking so smug over there, Miss Moreland?” he asked softly, observing the catlike look of satisfaction on her face as they took their places in the drawing room after dinner. He carefully joined her in a window seat away from the others, but they were still well within sight of the party and were forced to keep their voices down.

“Because I think you’ve accidentally delivered yourself into my hands.”

Galen held very still, suddenly wary. “In what way?”

“Because now we are in public and you will be forced to make small talk and answer questions and . . . your methods of distraction are powerless here, Mr. Hawke.”

“Not powerless,” he threatened softly, looking at her as if he had every intention of sweeping her up to strip her naked and take her in front of a drawing room of guests.