The image of his body floating face-down in the river wasn't even enough to keep him from wanting to slap himself for his foolish words.
For him, a man of excellent seduction skills, to tell a woman in front of other men, no less, that she looked awful! He'd nearly groaned when he saw her face fall. Her dress was awful. It had nothing to do with what was beneath it, but it was entirely too proper for his liking.
He liked her in red.
Curse the woman.
Now every time he saw her, she seemed to be wearing some ugly color that made him want to rip the dress from her frame.
Which his body quite agreed with.
Though he imagined her sisters wouldn't have been pleased with him. In some ways, he was angry with Gwen. She was a temptation he could not afford, not with the lives of people he cared about in the balance. Yet there she was, a conundrum if there ever was one.
It made him uneasy to see Trehmont and Redding in the drawing room and even more nervous that Gwen would be spending time with them. Yet the plan was working perfectly. Both men seemed entranced by her. Who would not be? Considering they were being pressured to settle down this Season, it was hardly difficult to get the men to fawn over her. Now at least it would be easier to follow them and keep a watchful eye on their actions. His nose suddenly pained him. He reached up and touched it. At least he knew she could defend herself.
The tea became cold in his cup. He put it down on the table and rose to excuse himself, when the butler entered again.
"The Earl of Eastbrook."
Trapped, with no way to escape, Hunter sat back down.
Redding and Trehmont seemed less than pleased that they had more competition, for Eastbrook had taken great care in making his appearance perfect. Stupid man. All Hunter needed was his cousin sniffing around Gwen's skirts. He had enough problems as it was.
"Ah Haverstone, thought I might find you here!" Eastbrook slapped his gloves against his leg and smiled coolly. Then his eyes fell on Gwen. "And what a lovely creature, more lovely than even my best dreams."
Gwen blushed.
Why the devil did she blush?
Could she not see how evil he was?
Well, perhaps he wasn't particularly evil. After all, he hadn't necessarily done anything but set himself up quite nicely within society. Treat his friends with respect and keep from vices like gambling and heavy drink.
Which, if you asked Hunter, meant he was a terrible human being. What man didn't engage in at least one vice or two? It was the quiet fellows a gentleman had to worry about. He narrowed his eyes in his cousin's direction.
"Thank you," Gwen answered, folding her hands in her lap.
If it was at all possible, Hunter's eyes narrowed even more as he watched his cousin smile seductively at Gwen. Hunter imagined his hands around his cousin's neck and suddenly felt calm enough to breathe again.
"…Did you hear nothing I just said?" Eastbrook addressed Hunter.
No, apologies, I was busy strategically planning your murder. Perhaps at the end of a pistol rather than my bare hands? Too messy. He cleared his throat and smiled. "What was it that you asked?"
"Have you seen Lainhart yet?"
The entire room seemed to take a sudden inhalation, making it impossible for Hunter to focus on anything except steadying the ramming of his heart against his chest. Why did the blasted man have to mention his grandfather again, especially in front of his former employees?
"He's dying," Eastbrook continued.
"Oh, that poor man!" Gwen patted Eastbrook's hand. Hunter clenched his fist. "Whatever is the matter with him?"
"I imagine it is severe disappointment," Redding piped up.
"Disappointment?" Gwen tilted her head.
"Why, yes." Redding leaned forward, but not before his gaze quickly went to Hunter in what could only be described as a smug look. "His grandson by marriage is, after all, a disgrace."
"A disgrace, you say?" Gwen looked uncomfortably between Hunter and Redding. Eastbrook reached for her hand. If he did that one more time, Hunter was going to remove it with a rusty fork.
Trehmont had the audacity to laugh, as if he wasn't a stain upon his own family name, the lecher. "But of course, haven't you heard?"
"I'm sure if she hasn't, it is only a matter of time," Hunter said smoothly.
The drawing room was entirely too small for that much testosterone, Hunter knew that much. If one more man puffed out his chest, they would look like those ridiculous emperor penguins waddling around their mates.
Goode walked in again, this time with a grim expression on his face. Had all the gentlemen decided to call at the same time?
"Sir Hollins to call."
Hollins swept into the room with a flourish, making a ridiculous spectacle of handing his hat and gloves to Goode before sitting on the already-too-miniscule sofa near Trehmont. "Ah, Lady Gwendolyn, you are a thing of beauty."
"So I've been told," she murmured to herself, but Hunter caught it. Fighting a smile, he looked straight through Hollins as if he were the most meaningless rat on the planet and then looked away, hoping his point had been made.
"I say." Hollins chuckled uncomfortably. "Seems tense in here. Do tell what has everyone in such silence."
Hunter grabbed another biscuit and chomped on it quite loudly, then threw his arm over the side of the sofa and grinned. "Why, my many sins. Care to join in, Hollins? After all, I'm sure your embellishments will be quite helpful in steering the dear lady away from my advances."
Hollins tugged at his cravat. "I believe you make enough of a spectacle of yourself without my embellishments helping, your grace." The way he said grace almost sounded like a hiss from his lips.
"Let us not speak of it anymore," Rosalind piped up. Hunter had almost forgotten the two sisters were even present. What they must think of him now. Even Isabelle did not know of his disgrace.
"No, let's," Hunter said, voice hoarse. "Say what you came to say." This he directed at Eastbrook, whose eyes revealed years of hatred.
"No, my ladies, this tale is too sordid for drawing room conversation. Wouldn't you rather talk about the weather, or the lovely Season?"
"Or the rumor that we have a traitor within our midst! Apparently, and you did not hear this from me, but someone has been selling information to the French," Gwen piped up.
All heads turned to her.
She nodded just slightly to Hunter.
He swallowed the knot of emotion in his throat. It seemed Red had saved the Wolf, from himself and from further disgrace. He found he could not even meet her gaze as he looked down at his hands, which were now trembling in his lap from years of pent-up anger and guilt.