Page 31 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

Maddie halted and waited for Portia to catch up to her.

“Sir Saxton requires your presence in his study,” Portia said.

Horse feathers!

“But it is late.” Maddie’s voice was much too fussy for a woman of six–and-twenty. But she had been looking forward to crawling under her covers and dreaming about her red-coated hero. She checked herself. “Thank you, Portia.”

Her nerves knotted into pulsing little balls as she trekked down the hallway and stairwell. By the time she reached the study door, she could barely breathe. She smoothed her skirts and knocked.

“Come in,” her uncle called.

Hugo Adams sat in front of her uncle’s desk, his brow furrowed and his jaw tense. He swirled a glass of dark liquor.

Uncle Elias extended his hand, inviting her to sit in the chair beside Hugo.

Maddie exhaled and sat.

“Madalene, this cannot continue,” Uncle Elias said.

Maddie swathed him in her wide-eyed innocent stare.

Undaunted, her uncle continued. “I cannot challenge a war hero to a duel. Firstly, he will kill me. And if God believes in justice and allows me to shoot him, Eaton is so beloved that I would be despised. I cannot ask him to leave since I seek the Crown’s backing for my endeavor, and I cannot have you cavorting around making a spectacle of yourself. ’Tis indecent.”

Hugo guzzled from his glass.

“Sir, nothing happened between Captain Eaton and myself.” Unless one counted seducing him on the balcony, watching another couple fornicate in the gardens together, and forcing him to hold her hand under the table. Good heavens. She was headed to the fiery depths of hell.

Her uncle drummed his fingers on his desk. “The two of you were in the gardens this evening after you were told to stay apart.”

There was no use denying it since she had announced their liaison when she sought assistance on Stephen’s behalf. However, she should defend herself.

“Aunt Henrietta believes Stephen and I make an agreeable match. She approves of our being together.”

“And yet, you had no chaperone,” her uncle said.

All of this talk of chaperones for a widowed woman of six–and-twenty was preposterous.

“He is to marry Arabella Beaumont,” Hugo said.

Maddie turned an incredulous glare on the solicitor. “That cannot be true. He told me he has no interest in Miss Arabella.”

Her uncle huffed. “Men say a lot of things to garner a woman’s affection.”

“I spoke with Lord Beaumont this evening,” Hugo said. “Their families are old friends, and the Dowager Countess of Trent has begun wedding preparations.”

The door banged open and Pierre in all of his purple and lime glory barged into the room, waving his bejeweled fingers about.

“Elias, Captain Eaton is…how do youles Anglaissay it? A bloody blighter. He is following me about and speaking to me as if I am some sort of traitor after I provided information to your country. How dare he treat me this way! And it is not the first time. A few months ago, when I visited your secretary of state the captain treated me with suspicion, asking very personal questions.” Without an invitation, Pierre boldly marched across the room, placed one palm on the desk, and pointed a long finger at Uncle Elias. “He is the traitor. I just overheard him talking to them. He means to set thoseimbécilesin thedonjonfree.”

Maddie gasped. “That makes no sense. Why would he have escorted them to a cell only to set them free?”

Of course, Stephen was probably seeking answers to what they were doing at Herald Hall. Dare she ask what Pierre was doing in the dungeon?

Hugo snorted.“Elias, as I have explained, the man is not to be trusted. My investigations have shown that he has disappeared from his unit many times since their return to London.”

Was that true?

“Mademoiselle, I am afraid he has you befuddled—embrouillé.” Pierre’s overly adorned hands circled around his head. “Joliebutterflies flitting about.”