Read A Dangerous Madness for Free Online Page B

exposure.
    “No.” He looked around. “Where is your carriage?”
    She pointed down the street and he offered his arm and walked her to it.
    “You will go to the park, and I will meet you there.” He gave her a smile that had enough steel behind it to cover a barn door.
    “And then?” Surely he didn’t mean to walk with her without a chaperone? Nothing would get the tongues of Mayfair wagging faster, cloak or no cloak.
    “Then we’ll ride in my phaeton, and we will talk.”
    “That will be a little unusual. As we are neither betrothed nor even acquaintances.”
    “I consider you an acquaintance, Miss Hillier. If that makes you feel better.”
    She gave a half-laugh. “When it is discovered that I am no longer betrothed to Sheldrake, and a few days later am out alone with the Duke of Wittaker, I can promise you, nothing will make me feel better. I will be ruined.”
    It was true. Completely true. But a lie, as well.
    She ached to break the rules, to heave off the yoke of polite manners that kept her small and cowed and unable to follow her inclinations. But the cruel joke was she did not want to be alone, either. Did not want to be a social pariah.
    So a half-truth, perhaps.
    He considered her words carefully, watching her with those sharp gray eyes. “Very well. I’ll meet you in your garden in ten minutes.” He helped her into her carriage, and paused before closing the door, and she saw, for the first time, the hard, cold heart of him. “Be there, Miss Hillier. No games.”
    She opened her mouth to give him a hot retort, then thought better of it and gave a curt nod instead.
    “Ten minutes,” he repeated as he closed the door.
    Phoebe glared at him, and tapped the roof of the carriage. As they pulled into the traffic she looked back and found him watching her.
    They stared at each other until her carriage turned the corner.
    Neither looked away.
    * * *
    Damned if he wasn’t intrigued, when he should have been suspicious. Hot on the scent.
    Or perhaps he was too hot on the scent, and it wasn’t for a potential assassin.
    James stood in the lane behind Miss Hillier’s house, and tried the garden door.
    Locked.
    He’d said no games, but to be honest, he hadn’t made it clear he would be coming in the back way, to completely shield her from any speculation.
    With nothing for it, he made sure he was alone, and then pulled himself up the stone wall.
    When he reached the top, he could see Miss Hillier standing with her back to him, talking to someone within the house, her full concentration on the conversation.
    “I feel like sitting in the garden, that’s all. I was shopping and have a headache. I’ll come in for tea in a little while.”
    He couldn’t hear the response, but it clearly frustrated her. She gave a sigh.
    He dropped lightly into her lush, colorful garden.
    She turned at that moment, and gave a small squeak of surprise to find him standing in a flower bed.
    “I tried the door,” he said, brushing the dust of the wall off his knees. “It was locked.”
    “I wondered if you’d come in the back. I’ve only just managed to get into the garden myself.” Her gaze moved beyond him to the wall. “That’s quite an impressive climb.”
    She was stalling for time. Hoping the tea would come out, no doubt, and he would have to hide or go away.
    He smiled as he tugged down his jacket sleeves. “What were you doing waiting outside Newgate Prison today?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry if this sounds ungracious, Your…Grace…but what were you doing there?”
    He stepped out of the flowerbed, wiped his boots on the perfectly green, springy lawn. “Why are you so loathe to tell me?”
    She took a step back from him, turned and walked away, toward a filigree arch sent in a yew hedge.
    “Miss Hillier.” He could be harsh when he wanted to be. In fact, many people would swear that was his usual demeanor.
    She didn’t turn, didn’t even acknowledge him. She stepped through the arch and