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She had always been fascinated with all the works of art that Hawthorne had amassed.

She was so enamored with the paintings that she failed to hear someone approach. In the next moment, she felt someone grab her arm and could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear as he asked, “What do you think you are doing here?”

Madalene turned her head and her heart dropped. It was that horrid man from the coffeehouse. Realizing that she needed to take control of the situation, she yanked back her arm and turned around to face him.

“I have every right to be here.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you follow me here?”

“Why would I do that?” she asked in an exasperated voice.

“Coming here was a huge mistake for you.”

“And why is that?”

The man placed his hand on the wall behind her and leaned in, his words low. “How did you find me?”

“Trust me, I wasn’t looking for you,” she replied, attempting to appear unaffected by his nearness. There was a gleam in his eyes that she knew she should find terrifying, but instead she found herself intrigued.

“Who sent you?” he demanded.

She cocked her head. “Why would anyone send me to find you?”

“You may play coy—”

Speaking over him, she said, “I am not playing coy with you. Frankly, I want this conversation to be over with.”

“Not until you answer my questions.”

“Are you always this insufferable?”

A smirk came to his lips, but it held no humor. “You have no idea who you are dealing with.”

“That may be true, but I still find you to be irksome,” she said.

Slowly, methodically, his intense eyes roamed over her face. “Why are you here?” he asked. “Do you have a message for me?”

“I am not here for you nor would I ever have a message for you.”

A huff passed his lips. “I grow tired of this game.”

“I assure you that there is no game, and I grow tired of your insinuations,” Madalene challenged.

“Clearly, you are more clever than I have given you credit for.”

Madalene arched an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

The man opened his mouth to respond when Madalene heard Lady Jane exclaim, “Baldwin! What do you think you are doing?”

Baldwin dropped his hand and stepped back. “This does not concern you, Jane.”

“It most certainly does,” Jane insisted, coming to stand next to her. “Madalene is my dear friend, and I will not have you treat her in such a horrendous fashion.”

“You befriended my sister?” Baldwin asked, his voice skeptical.

“Madalene and I went to boarding school together,” Jane explained. “I know I have spoken about her.”

“I don’t recall you ever mentioning a Madalene before,” Baldwin said, stepping back to create more distance between them.

Jane frowned at her brother. “I daresay that I must question if you ever listened to any of my stories.”

“I assure you that I listened.”

With a look that implied she didn’t believe him, Jane remarked, “I hadn’t realized that you two knew each other.”

“We don’t, at least not officially,” Madalene replied.

“Oh, then allow me to rectify that situation,” Jane stated, glancing between them. “Miss Dowding, allow me to introduce you to my brother, the Marquess of Hawthorne.”

Madalene dropped into a curtsy, knowing what was expected of her. “My lord,” she murmured respectfully.

Lord Hawthorne’s face was expressionless, but his eyes still held animosity towards her. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” His words sounded forced.

Jane placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, “As pleasant as this is, would you care to adjourn to the drawing room for some refreshment?”

Dropping Lord Hawthorne’s gaze, Madalene replied in a relieved tone, “I would love to.”

As she turned to follow Jane towards the drawing room, she couldn’t help but notice that Lord Hawthorne remained rooted in his spot, and she could feel his eyes boring into her back.

They stepped into the drawing room and Jane spun around to face her. “I am sorry about my brother,” she said quickly. “It would appear that he has forgotten how to have a polite conversation.”

“Your brother seems rather…” Madalene’s voice trailed off as she attempted to think of the right words.

“High-handed, pompous, a jackanapes…” Jane rattled off.

Madalene giggled and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Yes, all of those things.”

Jane sighed as she dropped down onto a settee. “My brother is not the same man that he was when he left three years ago.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Do you recall how I used to share stories about my brothers when we were younger?” Jane asked.

“I do,” Madalene replied. “I was always so envious about how close you were with your brothers.”

“Well, it has all changed now.”

“In what way?”

Jane gave her a sad smile. “Oliver is a rakehell now, and my other friends have distanced themselves from me in fear of associating with him.”

“How awful.”

“And Baldwin has been cantankerous since he arrived home a few days ago.”

Madalene came to sit down next to her friend. “Where was Lord Hawthorne before?”

Jane tossed her hands up in the air. “I have no idea!” she exclaimed. “He left right after our father died, with no word, and then he just showed back up with no explanation.”

“He won’t tell you where he has been?”

Jane shook her head. “But I have a few theories.”

“You do?”

A playful smile came to Jane’s lips as she glanced over at the door. “I think my brother was a pirate,” she whispered.

Madalene laughed. “A pirate?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Jane stated. “After all, his skin has darkened, and he barks orders like he has been bossing around a crew all day.”

“Your logic sounds flawless,” Madalene joked.

Jane’s smile grew. “How I have missed this.”

“As have I.”

“We haven’t seen each other since your mother died,” Jane said.

“But we have written each other.”

“That is true,” Jane replied. “Will you be staying for the rest of the Season?”

Madalene shook her head. “I intend to return home to my country estate in a few days, but first I must take care of something important.”

“Oh?” Jane asked. “You have piqued my interest now.”

A young blonde

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