Free Regency 02 - Betrayal by Jaimey Grant Page A

emotion.
Puzzled, she looked back at Aunt Clara, Countess of Fenton.
    Aunt Clara was a short, flighty little thing
with more hair than wit. She adopted the mannerisms of a débutante
although she was well into her fiftieth year. When presented to
Adam she had simpered and flirted awfully. Bri was impressed with
his ability to hide the disgust he had to feel.
    “My dear girl, you have lost weight as well,
have you not? This is just dreadful! However shall you find a
husband looking the way you do?” Aunt Clara twisted her hands
together in distress.
    “Don’t be a twit, Clara,” the Duchess of
Corning inserted sharply. “She doesn’t need looks. She has money
and a title. Besides, her betrothed is awaiting her.”
    “What?” Adam and Bri exclaimed
simultaneously. They exchanged looks of consternation although
Adam’s stance had not changed. He still stood a little from her
with his left hand fingering his quizzing glass and his right hand
shoved in the pocket of his pantaloons. Surprise had him
momentarily stiffening and the hand on his glass paused for a
fraction of a second. But then he was in complete control
again.
    Lady Corning turned a haughty look on Mr.
Prestwich. “You may go now, sir. You have completed your task, I
think.” Her nose rose another notch, if that was even possible.
    Adam restrained his sudden urge to toss the
old bat out the window and bowed instead. He threw a look at Bri
and took his leave.
    Bri watched him go and wondered why she felt
even more friendless than she had before. Then she faced her family
and shivered. Corning was wearing a smirk and his wife was staring
at her disdainfully. Aunt Clara was still fidgeting, as usual, and
the Duke of Westbury was looking mighty pleased with himself. The
viscount stood by the window, looking out on the square as if the
drawing room proceedings held no interest for him. The Earl of
Fenton’s expression was impassive and she wondered if perhaps he
had succumbed to his past habit of taking laudanum on a regular
basis. His eyes looked decidedly glassy.
    It took all of her willpower not to dash
after Adam and beg him to take her away. She knew that the dukes’
plans had changed and she knew they would be even worse than
before.

    He stopped just outside the front door and
looked up. He caught the look of cunning on Viscount Breckon’s
face. He had to repress a shiver.
    Adam shook his head and vaulted into his
phaeton. His tiger handed him the reins and Adam set off, barely
giving the lad time to leap on the back.
    Adam drove through the late morning streets
of London at a reckless pace, trying to outrun his conscience. He
shouldn’t have left her there with those people. But what could he
have possibly done? She was underage. They had control. Her family
contained two dukes, an earl, a viscount, and a few minor titles as
well. Adam Prestwich, baronet, quite simply lacked the power to
help her.
    He had the money, of that he was sure.
Westbury had barely a feather to fly with; Corning had not much
more than that. Of the viscount Adam knew little, but he suspected
that he was a trifle lean in the pocket as well. Everyone knew that
Fenton spent every cent he had on his drug habit so Adam knew there
was no money there. There was a baron in there somewhere but Adam
didn’t even know his name much less his financial situation.
    But did she really need the help? Or was her
family telling the truth when they told him she was just being a
spoiled brat? What on earth had possessed the Earl of Rothsmere to
leave her in the care of impecunious relatives?
    A vision of haunted emerald eyes flashed
before his eyes and he jerked the reins. It took him a few moments
to bring his team back under control while Jem muttered something
about ham-fisted driving.
    Why did he have to remember that now? She
would have to be a better actress than Raven to have been lying
when she told him about the straitjacket. She had cried. Piteously.
It was very unlike Bri to