Fanning the Flame Read Free Page A

she disappeared out of sight on the path leading off into the trees.
     
    In the early mornings, he rode. At night he walked the streets. His years in the army, days and nights of living out of doors, made it nearly impossible for him to fall asleep without at least a little fresh air. More than a year ago, after the death of his older brother, Carter, Adam had sold his commission in the Eleventh Light Dragoons and returned to London to assume his duties as earl. His nightly outings had quickly become a habit, and Adam knew every lane and alley in the West End.
    He knew the exact house, a huge Georgian mansion in Brook Street, where the Earl of Fenwick lived.
    What he didn't understand was what had drawn him there this evening.
    Adam swore an oath into the darkness. For God's sake, the girl is the old man's mistress! She had bartered herself like a piece of meat for the expensive clothes she wore, for the fancy black coach and flashy matched grays that carried her each morning to the park.
    He knew about women like Jillian Whitney. He had nearly married Caroline Harding, would have, if he hadn't found her in bed with his cousin, Robert.
    And there was Maria. His face bore a constant reminder of her betrayal. The duel he had fought with her husband left a far deeper scar on the inside than the one he carried along his jaw.
    And yet when he imagined the young woman beside the pond, when he remembered the sound of her laughter as she fed the ducks, he didn't feel the anger and hostility he felt when he thought of Caroline or Maria. Instead, he felt an odd sort of calm, a peacefulness he hadn't known since before the war.
    The huge house loomed ahead, lamplight gleaming from a dozen different windows on the first and second floors. He wondered which room was Jillian Whitney's, wondered if the old man was brazen enough to install her in the countess's bedchamber next to his own. He imagined how the servants must feel about the old earl's mistress being kept right there in the house, and suddenly felt sorry for Jillian Whitney.
    He paused in the shadows across the street, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. Had she really been so desperate? Had her father left her with no other choice?
    Other speculations rose into his mind, but the echo of a gunshot brought them to a sudden end. There was no mistaking the sound, not after eight long years in the army. And the shot had come from inside the Earl of Fenwick's house.
    Adam moved in that direction, careful to stay in the shadows. A scream came from somewhere inside and a few seconds later, the front door burst open.
    "Help! Someone call a watchman! The Earl of Fenwick has been shot!"
      From the corner of his eye, Adam caught a flicker of movement between the mansion and the house next door. A small, cloaked figure ran from the rear of the house toward the alley behind the mews. Moving silently, ignoring the shouts of the servants who streamed out into the street, he rounded the house next door and headed toward the mouth of the alley to stop the fleeing figure he had seen.
    Waiting in the darkness at the entrance, he could hear the pounding of light, frantic footfalls. Hidden beneath the hood of a billowing cloak was the barely discernible shape of a woman. Adam stepped out of the shadows directly in front of her and she careened hard into his chest.
    His arms clamped around her as she struggled to break free. "Let me go!" She tried to twist away, but he merely tightened his hold. "Please. Dear God, please let me go!"
    Adam stared down at her, a grim smile etched into the corners of his mouth. "Why, Miss Whitney. I hadn't expected we would meet again so soon."
    She looked up at him and the breath seemed to stall in her lungs. "Blackwood," was all she said.
     
    Chapter Two
     
    Jillian started to tremble. Behind her she could hear the servants shouting. Any minute the night watch would arrive. She glanced frantically around, started struggling again, tried to wrench herself