[Samuel Barbara] The Black Angel(Book4You) (23 page)

But instinct was well-developed in these mean streets, and they scented the brooding disturbance in the gentleman, and faded away into the shadows.

The church doors were open, and Tynan blinked as he stood in the back for a long moment, his face tingling back to life as it warmed. For a moment he wondered at the wisdom of his instinctive push to come here, only fully realizing he'd come dressed entirely as himself. Anyone might have seen him.

But before he could go, a parishioner left the confessional, pulling a shawl over her head. Tynan took her place.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he said in a hoarse voice. "It has been a year since my last confession."

Adriana waited, reading in her chamber, until she heard Tynan come in. Relief washed through her at the sound of his voice in the lower hall, and she flung a warm wrapper around her shoulders and crept out to meet him.

He went directly to his chamber, and she went quickly after him. At the closed door, she paused, her heart in her throat, to arrange her freshly brushed hair over her shoulders and pinch color into her cheeks. Then she raised a hand and knocked.

His voice was muffled. "Enter."

Adriana eased the door open. His back was to her as he shuffled through a handful of mail. "My lord?"

He whirled, obviously surprised. "Is there something wrong?"

"No." She swallowed and clutched her hands together. "I only wanted to thank you."

A soft, derisive sound came from him, and he tossed the mail aside. "You owe me nothing." Still without looking at her, he shed his coat, absently pulled the thong from his hair. It spilled free over his shoulders and down his back, a glorious shawl that framed his shadowed face with such power that Adriana felt it almost as a blow. "Go to bed," he said gently. "We'll ride in the morning, if the weather is fine."

She twisted her fingers so tightly they hurt and took a step toward him. "I came," she said, and her voice wavered enough it embarrassed her, "to give you your kiss."

He raised his head, and Adriana saw the pain cross it. A wave of something ached in her chest at the sight of his vulnerability, and she moved to stand before him. "I thought, considering the day, that you might want one particularly."

"You are too generous, my lady," he said roughly. His eyes burned, the green and blue almost lit from within. "And I do not, tonight, deserve your good opinion."

She lowered her eyes, afraid of showing too much. His hands hung loosely at his sides, and she took the left, nearest her, in both of her own. "Then allow me to kiss you," she whispered. With gratitude in her heart, she pressed her lips to his fingers, then put his hand on her cheek. "Thank you," she said, then dropped his hand and moved away, hoping he might call her back.

He did not, and Adriana walked to the door before she turned. He stood exactly as she'd left him, his hair loose and shimmering in the candlelight, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes… stricken. "Good night," she said, and closed the door.

As if Nature had a stake in the ride, the morning was clear and bright, free of the noxious yellow fog or even a wisp of cloud. It was the sort of crisp, clear autumn day that made every Englishman proud to be one, the sort that would draw every cranky dowager and young buck and tittering debutante out from their stuffy drawing rooms and into the sunshine.

Adriana was ready. She'd sent a footman around to Cassandra with a note, begging a habit to wear, and she admired herself in it now as Fiona put the finishing touches on her hair. The habit was a vivid, deep turquoise, with a demure neckline but a close fit through the torso and waist. To afford comfort on the hunt, the skirt was wide and simple, and Adriana thought it would do very nicely. She finished it with a hat in the same turquoise, trimmed with dyed ostrich feathers that plumed behind her.

Tynan had already breakfasted and left word he'd meet her in the stables. She strode outside with a sense of purpose, her crop in hand, and met him leading the horses out.

And as if he'd had the same impulse as she, he was dressed gloriously himself. Gone was the somber black. He wore a vivid green coat and breeches, with a beautifully embroidered waistcoat. His leather boots were highly polished, and a tricorn hat sat on his head. Spying Adriana, he paused for a moment.

And here, now, was a shift between them. It was nothing she could name, but as their eyes met across the yard, a shimmering pleasure filled her. There was admiration in his face, and a shared sense of purpose, and, finally, a kind of camaraderie that had been missing till now.

He swept off his hat and bowed low. "I see we're both adorned for battle." His grin was rakish and irresistible. "Well done."

With a haughty smile, she inclined her head and flipped open a fan. "Weapons ready."

He extended a hand, and she took it, allowing him to assist her. Then he mounted his own horse, that fine black gelding he'd ridden into Hartwood that first day.

"What, no ribbons in his mane this morning?" Adriana asked lightly.

"'Tis better in some settings not to be too Irish," he said, and winked. "Though he's fine enough for a king of Ireland, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed."

They set off at a mild pace, taking a winding route through the forest of tall, clean town houses clustered around the squares that sprung up every quarter mile or so. The streets were already thick with traffic, peddlers and servants, chaises and carriages of every description, dashing phaetons, and well-bred horses and pairs of young ladies in broad hats trailed by bored footman.

Adriana breathed it all in, raising her eyes to admire the newly turned bright gold of leaves against a brilliant sky, reveling in the clatter of horses and carts on the uneven streets, the harsh calls of peddlers crying their wares. She even enjoyed the odd mix of horse and bread scenting the air.

"Such glorious weather should assure the park will be crowded," she remarked.

"I expect you're right, Countess." He guided his horse around a pothole and then looked at her. "We've one chance to set the spirit here. Can you brazen it out?"

"I'm ready."

The blue eyes sharpened. "Can you pretend to be madly in love?"

Adriana frowned. "Why?"

He set his mouth, and reined in at the edge of the long, wide expanse of green that was the park. "Listen closely, my dear, and do not mistake my meaning."

She nodded, reining in beside him.

"Everyone here will have seen some version of the scandal sheets by now."

"You don't say."

He looked away, as if considering his next words. Adriana found herself admiring the strong, clean lines of his face, a softness in her chest.

"The only emotion you must not show here is shame," he said finally. "I tried to force that on you yesterday, and you forced it back at me, and your way is better. They'll feed on shame like crows."

"I understand."

"Good. And we'll give the impression of a love match for the same reason. You didn't marry an Irishman because no one else would have you—"

She didn't know why, but that made her smile. "Even though it's true."

"And I did not come to you with hopes of a seat in Parliament, but because I was smitten by your allure." He lifted a brow mockingly. "It does your reputation no harm to have captured the
heart
of a rake."

"I see. Especially one with such a nickname."

"Ah!" She would have sworn it was discomfort that made that bar of color seep into his cheekbones. "I didn't realize you'd heard it."

"Oh, yes. ." Adriana said it with relish. Unable to resist, she leaned in close. "Are you really so close to heaven, my lord?"

His lashes dropped in that alluring way that he had, and he raised a brow. "There are those who've made their comparisons."

Adriana laughed. Spying an open carriage coming their way on the path, she leaned in and put her hand on his shoulder as if unable to resist touching him. "Remember, Spenser," she said clearly. "I am only
acting
the coquette today." She lifted a gloved hand to his cheek, "To impress the dowagers like these passing us now." Slowly, she caressed the hard cut of his cleanshaven jaw, staring into his eyes. "They're taking down every detail as we sit here."

"Excellent," he said, and took her wrist and put her hand on his chest, his eyes glittering merrily as he pressed her palm close, presumably against his heart. "I do admire your hat, my dear."

Adriana blinked and put her other hand on her own heart. "I vow that embroidery on your vest is the finest I've seen. What is that pattern?"

"Celtic knotwork," he said, and gravely bent his head to her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles. "The girls in my village have found a market for it."

The carriage passed, and Adriana could not halt a chuckle. "Oh, that should do nicely."

"As a start." He took his reins and Adriana followed. "By the way," he said as the horses began to walk. "This bit of playacting does not cancel my kisses."

"Oh?"

"That is a private matter between us."

A ripple passed through her, but Adriana nodded. "As you wish."

As expected, the park was full of those out to take in the fine weather. Adriana braced herself to be brave as she recognized the crest of a family she had known in the past, but her mouth went dry.

"Steady," Tynan said quietly, and stretched out a hand. "Tell me who these people are as we pass."

Relieved to have a reason to look away from the open coach, Adriana smiled brightly and falsely at her companion. "You mean you aren't acquainted with everyone in town?"

"Hardly."

"They are the daughters and wife of Lord Meecham. The young woman is Lady Meredith, who should be married by now and is not. The mother is plain by her pinched mouth—see how she scents my approach?"

"Look at her," Tynan ordered. "And smile."

"I cannot!"

He gripped her hand tightly across the space between their horses. "Do it."

She raised her chin and fixed her mouth in a smile she hoped was at least supercilious, and turned her head. It was faintly possible to do it only by blurring her vision over the icy stare of Lady Meecham, then over the curious and avid gaze of the daughter. The son, a baron of some lesser estate, caught her eye. To her amazement, he winked.

They passed and Adriana let out a breath, taking her hand back to flip open her fan and wave it urgently. "I shall faint if I'm required to do that around the entire promenade."

"No, you won't."

And she did not, of course. Tynan teased her and made jokes about hats and headdresses. To those with whom he was acquainted, he nodded, but did not stop, even when some of them clearly would have done so, curious about his bride.

In contrast, none of Adriana's former acquaintances appeared to feel compelled to do so much as acknowledge her. Those who gave her the hostile gaze of judgment were preferable to those she'd known who looked right through her, as if she were invisible. Her cheeks burned, but with Tynan at her side, it was not difficult to keep her head up. If she flagged, he nudged her, or made some droll comment on the occupants of the carriage.