Chapter 10

CHAPTER10

“My father’s funeral was a cheerier affair than this,” Adam groaned, puffing out a plume of tobacco smoke.

Harry cast him a pointed look, lighting his own pipe. “That is because you hated your father, and so did almost everyone who knew him. It was a day for rejoicing, as this one should be. Obviously, for very different reasons.”

“She looked pretty,” Adam admitted, sitting back in his chair. “Exceptionally pretty.”

“Perhaps this will be the first time that ‘pretty’ is enough to hold your attention,” Harry teased.

They were the only two people left in the dining room, for while it was customary for the gentlemen to stay behind and talk of gentlemanly—or not so gentlemanly—things while the ladies ventured to the drawing room for their own gossip, everyone on Nancy’s side of the wedding party had departed together.

Adam smiled. “It does not matter if she holds my attention or not. I am stuck with her, either way.” He paused. “Did you think she looked pretty?”

“Radiant,” Harry agreed. “I doubt I have ever seen a more beautiful woman, and I am still deciding whether to be green with envy, jealous of your undeserved good fortune, or pitying toward the poor girl.”

Drawing the hot, earthy smoke into his mouth, Adam’s thoughts drifted back to the church. He had expected to feel nothing but regret when his wife walked down the aisle toward him, so the brief inability to breathe, the awe at her presence, had come as quite a shock. He, too, had never seen a more beautiful woman, nor had he ever pitied one more.

“I must have saved the country in a past life,” Adam said, blowing a smoke ring. “It is the only reasonable explanation for my enduring luck.”

Harry nodded. “But what are you going to do about the wedding night? If you even attempt to kiss her, I am quite certain that you will be found dead in your chambers tomorrow morning. Blind, at the very least—your eyes scratched to ribbons.”

Adam chuckled. “I am not going to do anything, my good man. I will drink plenty this evening, sleep like a babe, and awaken in the morning with a roaring headache and a churning stomach, ready to journey home with my wife in tow.”

“You will not even try to seduce her?” Harry sounded disappointed as he plucked a fragment of tobacco from his tongue.

“Did you not just say that it would result in my untimely demise?”

“Well, yes, but I thought you were more sporting than that. A little risk for a great reward—that sort of thing,” Harry muttered.

Evidently, he had been looking forward to hearing all about it the following day.

Adam tapped out what was left in the bowl of his pipe, cleaned it with a napkin, and stowed the item back in his waistcoat pocket. “She is not a prize, nor is she quarry to be chased. She is that… rare kind of deer that you stumble upon in a forest while hunting, and you know she has not heard you approach, and if you were to take aim, you would have her without fail. But you cannot fire the rifle. You cannot explain why, but you cannot do it, and so you just watch her, admiring her beauty and grace until she wanders off, safe from you and anyone else who might be stalking her.”

“Are you soused already?” Harry arched an eyebrow, smirking.

“It is the only way I can explain my… thoughts about her,” Adam replied. “She is too pure for me. I intend to leave that innocence intact for a worthier gentleman. Of course, I shall have to judge his worth, whoever he may be, but I hope that Nancy and I shall be good friends by then, and she will have learned to trust my judgment when it pertains to gentlemen.”

Harry stared at his friend, open-mouthed. “You are going to be friends with her?”

“Whyever not? I am friends with plenty of my former conquests. And as we are going to have to live with one another for at least the month of our honeymoon, I see no reason not to be acquainted,” Adam said. “She may not agree, but those are my intentions.”

Harry nodded slowly as if trying to make sense of it. “What of Miss Catherine Eastleigh? Have you spoken to her since the incident?”

“Ah, well, it appears I am quite the accidental matchmaker,” Adam said, relieved by the easier topic of conversation. “She is engaged to Mr. Kingston—that fellow I told you about.”

“The one hiding in the bushes with her, the night all of this happened?” Harry gestured around the empty room.

“Not just hiding,” Adam drawled, grinning. “I wish them all the best. I have no doubt they will be gloriously happy. Indeed, I believe I shall remain friends with Miss Eastleigh too—Do you see how simple it is to maintain these friendships? Nancy will be no different, once she realizes I am no threat.”

Harry smiled, tilting his head to one side. “But you are thinking about her, are you not? I saw the way you glanced at her during the wedding breakfast. I saw the way your eyes widened when she walked down the aisle toward you. I saw the way you pressed your hand over hers as if she was already something you wished to possess.”

“I glanced at her because she looked as white as that awful cream sauce we were eating with the fish. My eyes widened in the church because I was about to be married, and it all became too real. And I pressed my hand over hers to soothe hernerves, not for possession.”

Adam knew he was protesting too much, but he could not allow his best friend to think there had been anything more to his actions.

I am not the animal everyone thinks I am. I have restraint when it is necessary. I will not scare Nancy or take advantage of her, merely because she is bound to me by marriage.

Yet, traitorous memories of the lakeside played in the back of his mind, reminding him of how exhilarating it had felt to hold her in his arms and to feel her pull him closer.

Adam stood up. “We ought to join the family.”

“I thought you just did that?” Harry teased, getting to his feet.

Adam smiled. “You ought to save your wit for Nancy’s cousin. She is a pretty thing, too, and if I am to be shackled by marriage, then the friendly thing to do would be to put yourself in the same situation.”

“Then I shall have to reconsider our friendship entirely, for I have not yet made a mistake, and until I do, I shall continue to enjoy myself.” Harry smiled back and, together, they headed out in search of Nancy’s family.

Following the quiet sound of music that lilted from the half-closed door of the drawing room, Adam took a breath and entered. The music ceased immediately, and startled eyes, the color of Spanish olives, flashed up to meet his. He blinked, his breath catching, for every time he saw her again, even after the briefest absence, it was like seeing her for the first time. A beauty like no other.

“We thought we ought to join the revels,” Adam said, recovering quickly. “Were we thinking of dancing, or was my dear wife just playing an accompaniment to everyone’s… evening amusements?”

The room was as cold and lifeless as a mortuary. No one smiled, no one laughed, and it did not appear as if Adam had intruded on any excitable chatter. Only the playing of the pianoforte had halted upon his entry.

Has everyone been sitting here in silence all this time?

It was worse than he had thought, and as a renowned rake and merrymaker, his reputation could not have borne it if he was unable to change the mood of the evening.

“Who else can play the pianoforte?” Adam surveyed the room.

From the far corner, looking up from a book, Nancy’s cousin raised a shy hand. “I can play a little, though I do not profess to be as gifted as Nancy.”

“Excellent!” Adam clapped his hands together. “Might you take the place of my wife?”

The young lady blushed furiously, almost dropping her book in her rush to comply. “I… I should be delighted, Your Grace.”

“I am certain she would,” Harry whispered close to Adam’s ear, clearly expecting a snort of laughter. Instead, Adam batted him away like a fly that had snuck in.

“Actually, no. That will not do.” Adam raised a finger to his lips, thinking, while Marina froze halfway between the corner table and the pianoforte. “Duchess, do you play? I confess, I will not believe you if you say you do not. I heard you speak of how you relish playing when you are at Bruxton Hall.”

Joanna narrowed her eyes at him. “What would you like me to play? I have a very small repertoire.”

“Something lively, but not too vigorous,” Adam decided. “Something that your sister prefers, perhaps.” He walked to where Nancy was sitting at the pianoforte and offered her his hand. “Might you do me the tremendous honor of dancing with me? I know these are not the festivities you might have hoped for, but I have often found that dancing leads to more dancing, and I should like there to be some joy in the air tonight. A morsel, at least.”

Nancy stared at his proffered hand. “One dance,” she said, after a pause.

“Thank goodness.” He put on his best smile. “I am too weary for a second.”

She eyed him, taking his hand. “You are weary?”

“Exhausted.” He led her to the middle of the drawing room, where there was enough space for dancing. There, he lowered his voice so only she could hear. “When I retire, I shall be asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.”

Her brow creased slightly as if trying to understand. “Then perhaps we should dance twice, to ensure you are absolutely fatigued.”

“If that is your wish.” He bowed his head in respect as Joanna began to play a cheerful tune befitting a country dance.

The only trouble was, a country dance felt rather limp with just him and Nancy partaking.

Nevertheless, they proceeded, hopping gracefully from foot to foot, circling around one another, stepping forward and ebbing backward, their hands lightly pressing in a teasing kiss of palms. It struck Adam as strange, how such a hesitant caress could feel so charged, so intimate, so… forbidden.

Perhaps it was the amount of watchful stares that burned into him, or perhaps it was the fact that Nancy was the one woman he could not touch beyond that chaste press of hands. He had promised.

“This is awkward, is it not?” he whispered as she stepped in beside him, their hands clasped together.

The faintest smile turned up one corner of her plump lips. “Exceedingly. I did not think you had noticed. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“My dear, I never enjoy country dances. All of the jumping and hopping and promenading makes me feel quite seasick,” he replied, chuckling. “Then again, I usually observe. I rarely partake.”

She cast a sideways glance at him. “Is that true?”

“Quite true.” He nodded. “Considering my reputation, most young ladies and their mothers believe it would be unbecoming if they were seen dancing with me.”

She frowned. “Then, how do you… I mean, how is it possible that… I…” She shook her head. “Mama, do you not think that others should dance with us? It is too peculiar for us to be dancing alone while you all watch.”

Clearly, talk of his reputation had made Nancy uncomfortable. Adam understood it well enough, for she was not one of his lovers perfectly accepting of the parameters of any intimate encounters. This was all new and unfamiliar to her, and he figured that no new bride wanted to think of her husband’s colorful past, especially not one as colorful as his.

“Miss Wilkins.” Harry jumped in to save the day. “Might you do me the honor of dancing this set with me?”

Marina looked like she might faint. “Mama, might I?”

An older lady, presumably Marina’s mother, gave a sloppy sort of shrug, seeming rather tipsy. “Of course. Dance as much as you please, my darling!” She hiccupped, covering her mouth. “When you are young, you must dance as often as you can. When you are married, all joy and revelry cease.”

“Forgive her,” Marina whispered, turning a rather alarming shade of purple.

Harry laughed amiably. “I am quite deaf when it comes to the utterances of those who have imbibed too freely.” He offered her his hand. “Shall we?”

“You must dance too, Mama!” Nancy urged, capturing Adam’s attention once more.

Adam followed her gaze to Fanny and Nicholas, who glanced at one another shyly as if they were just beginning a courtship or the suggestion of one. To his surprise, his heart warmed at the bashful scene, a tender smile forming on his lips as he watched Nicholas stand and bow to Fanny before offering her his hand. She took it with a wide-eyed, flushed expression on her still-beautiful face, growing younger by the second.

So, even when all is beyond repair, there is hope.

No one would have expected the old Marquess to give up his London exploits and paramours. Yet, just two years prior, he had vanished from the gentlemen’s clubs, and the gossip therein, altogether.

Adam had not believed it when he had heard that Nicholas had devoted himself to making amends with his wife and daughters, forgoing everything else in order to be loyal, at last. Yet, there it was, the evidence of a reformed adulterer. What was more, it truly seemed as if Nicholas and Fanny were falling in love with one another decades after they had gotten married.

“Are they happy?” Adam asked, thinking aloud.

Nancy seemed surprised by the question. “Who?”

“Your mother and father.”

“Oh.” She observed the pair, her expression softening into a nervous sort of smile. “I hope that they are. They… seem to be. It is all Bernard’s fault.”

Adam arched an eyebrow. “Bernard? Did your mother—”

“Heavens, no!” Nancy hissed, cutting him off. “Bernard is my nephew. The moment he arrived, everything changed. It was as if my father became the person that we always wanted him to be overnight.”

“I suppose he realized what he might have missed or been pushed away from if he had continued with his… um… behaviors.” Adam nodded as everyone took their places for a proper country dance. All except Joanna, who remained at the pianoforte with her husband sitting on the bench beside her, one arm protectively encircling her waist.

Nancy peered up at him. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course, but I may not answer,” Adam replied as they stepped toward each other, pressing palm to palm and turning in a slow circle.

She rolled her eyes. “It can wait.”

“Are you certain?”

She hesitated. “Yes, I am certain.”

“You do not seem certain,” he said as they came back to their original positions.

They stood there, no more than half a step apart, and as he gazed down into her enchanting hazel-green eyes, listening to the soft rasp of her panting breaths, he knew he had never wanted anything more. He longed to take her in his arms and waltz around the room, holding her close, feeling her pressed against him, daring himself to dip his head and catch her mouth with his. He felt his own breath quicken at the very thought.

Perhaps Nancy saw the hunger in his eyes and heard the shift in his breathing, for she immediately took a further step back, putting deliberate distance between them.

And as she held his gaze, it was as if he could see a wall being built, stone by stone, around her heart.

“My curiosity was fleeting,” she said thickly. “What I had intended to ask is something that, maybe, I do not want to know the answer to. Indeed, I am certain I do not want to know the answer.”

She dropped her gaze and moved around him in a horseshoe, denying him any closeness… and leaving him utterly desperate to know what the question had been.