The Beast's Bluestocking (The Bluestocking War), Eva Devon [e textbook reader .TXT] 📗

Even now, the idea of flinching before Adams was too much to bear. She wouldn’t make herself small for men like him any more.

Yet, she knew she had to perform for him that she was flinching, so she could trick him.

He turned towards the windows. Impatient. Something was driving him.

His head darted as he seemed to be looking for any sign of the duke’s return.

Quickly, she leaned over the desk, placing her hands on the blotter until her fingers touched the handle of the letter opener.

“Tell me more,” she urged as her fingers met cool metal. “Perhaps I can help you. Perhaps you can help me understand the situation of it.”

“Girl, I do not care if you understand,” he rasped without looking back at her. “I do not need your good opinion. All I need is revenge upon Grey for making my life so difficult.”

She swallowed, desperate to keep him distracted from her actions. “Tell me, then, how I can possibly be a part of that revenge?”

A soft laugh rippled from him. His folded hands behind his back readjusted as if he was relishing what he was about to say. “Do you think I didn’t know what was happening between you?”

Her blood chilled. “I beg your pardon?”

She let her fingers slip slightly around the letter opener, and carefully, she dragged it back. Captain Adams was still turned to the window, looking out as if he was searching for Grey. Quietly, she slipped the letter opener between the folds of her skirts, her fingers holding it lightly so he would not notice what she was about.

Just as she tucked it into the folds, he whipped back to her.

“Oh, please,” he drawled, disgusted, his eyes dark. “Silly little girls and foolish young men. I was the captain of my ship, and I knew everything transpired. Do you think I did not know what was in those letters he read so voraciously? The moment I realized he was a snake aboard my ship, I became particularly careful and I learned as much information about him as I could. Any wise captain knows the weaknesses of their men.”

To be called a weakness was extremely irritating. She really loathed men who found women to be weaknesses to men. They were a vital part of men’s lives.

They were vital on their own, thank you very much.

“I see,” she said, prompting him to continue to speak so she might gather herself to act. “So, you know he and I wrote each other.”

“Yes.” He scowled. “The drivel you two exchanged about the niceties of life? You clearly know nothing about the brutality of this world, girl.”

She did not bother to correct him, for if he knew the contents of the letter, he also knew her father was a bounder.

No doubt, her father, the Earl of Harrowton, and Captain Adams would have gotten along very well, if her father would have deigned to have any sort of company with the captain of a naval ship.

Which of course, he would not. Her father was a terrible snob.

“Where is the man?” Adams demanded.

“I do not know,” she said honestly, licking her lips as she sensed his growing impatience.

“Please,” he scoffed. “He must be close. But he is not in the house. It is how I knew I could gain admittance. I saw him storm off.”

“Have you been spying upon us?” she asked, stunned. “That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“I am beyond such things,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Grey has made it so I cannot behave a gentleman anymore. I must skulk about in the shadows until I can prove my honor again.”

Honor, she thought to herself. The man knew nothing of it. He was willing to use a young lady to get his revenge. Honor was not a word Adams understood at all.

Again, Adams turned to the window, growing agitated. “It is time to depart.”

“Depart? I am still not entirely certain how you will use me in your path of revenge,” she said, hoping to keep him speaking.

Perhaps Grey would be made aware, or Merrill perhaps, that something was amiss.

Though, she had a strong feeling that Merrill may have already left the estate, and she did not know if Grey would return from his long walk anytime soon.

Truth to be told, she did not know exactly what to do.

Clara might be a possibility of help, but she hated the idea of her friend being put in jeopardy as well. So, she hoped the young lady stayed far away from her precarious situation.

Phillipa might have to take care of this herself.

The idea was terrifying. She had never had to come to blows with anyone before.

Slowly, she came out from behind the desk, and she stood there, staring at Adams’ back.

Could she run across the room and stab him? Or would he turn about, hearing her, and grab her. No doubt he’d then throttle her, as she feared. Any attempts at stopping him would be done, and she’d likely be crushed in the attempt.

She didn’t have delusions about her own strength as he so clearly did.

Instead, Phillipa decided to wait.

She hated waiting.

But in this particular instance, fast action would likely get her killed. Adams seemed on edge, as if he might be willing to do anything, as if he had no sense of reason left.

He whipped back to her, a new resolve etching his hard features. “He has spread the worst gossip about me throughout all society. Until they think I am all but a child murderer. It is foul,” he hissed.

“Are you?” she asked softly, her breath shallow with growing fear and knowledge that her life was in danger.

“What?” he asked, blinking.

“A child murderer,” she clarified, the words nearly choking in her throat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed before he narrowed his gaze. “I discipline children because they need it.”

She swallowed, her mouth going dry.

It was all but an admission to her.

Had he beaten some poor child to death?

She thought of Joe. . .

God, she prayed not.

The brutality of men like him!