Chapter 12

CHAPTER12

It had been over an hour, according to the jarring clangs of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, and Nancy still could not sleep. The door that connected her bedchamber to the guest bedchamber where Adam slept had become a living entity, lurking in the shadows opposite, taunting her through the gloom.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled a pillow over her head, pressing the edges against her ears to try and block out the inexplicable noise of that adjoining door. It was like someone breathing down her neck, urging her to turn around.

I was pleasant enough to him, was I not?

Her racing mind decided to play the forbidden scenes of that night by the lake. Though she had tried to scrub it from her brain, her body still remembered his intimate embrace, her chest tightening at the memory of his arms pulling her against his ridged abdomen, her shoulders bumping against his broad chest. And that graze of something soft and rough, all at once, against her neck.

His lips, she had come to realize. A stolen kiss not intended for her. And though she should have been furious that he had kissed her at all, considering no one had kissed her before, there was a part of her that was angrier that it had not been meant for her.

I shall never have a first kiss again, and you did not even want to kiss me.

She jammed the pillow harder against her ears to try and quieten her thoughts.

Now, if any man should ever kiss my neck again, I will know that you have already claimed it. I will think of you.

She launched the pillow across the room, throwing back the coverlets and rocking up into a sitting position in one smooth movement. Panting hard, her mind and heart and body in a tense conflict, she stared over at the adjoining door. Was he listening? Was he reveling in her discomfort? Did he know what he had done to her mind, filling it with unwanted memories of him?

Incensed, she scrambled off the bed and stalked toward the infuriating door, where she proceeded to pace back and forth like a sentry for at least five minutes. Her ire did not ebb, but nor did she know what to do now that she was standing in front of the door that was preventing her from sleeping.

“Did you want to speak with me?” Adam’s voice drifted through, mimicking what she had said to him on the terrace.

Her eyes grew wide, her body freezing.

“I know you are there, Nancy,” he said softly. “At least, I hope you are, or I shall appear quite mad, talking to a door.”

She swallowed, all of her anger transforming into embarrassment. What was she doing, marching back and forth in front of the door? Why was she not sound asleep, unaffected by anything he had said to her?

“I wanted to apologize,” he continued. “I should not have accused you of being discourteous. I can be awfully grumpy when I am tired and recently married, carrying the entertainment of an entire wedding party on my shoulders.”

Nancy forced herself to breathe, saying nothing.

“But I meant it when I said this is as new to me as it is to you,” he carried on. “You are a mystery to me, Nancy. One I cannot solve. Yet, I should like it if we were not entirely estranged.”

Nancy found her voice, though it came out an octave too high. “I will not be opening this door, if that is what you mean. I know of your tricks and games, Adam.” His name still sounded peculiar on her tongue. “I shall not be playing along.”

“Not even shuttlecock or Pall-Mall?”

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop a chuckle from escaping. “No games.”

“Whist? I have cards with me. We could slide them under the door.”

Nancy drew in a steadying breath. “You know those are not the games and tricks I am referring to.”

“I do know, but I was hoping to distract you,” he replied, mirth sparkling in his smooth, deep voice. “I am not exactly what you think I am. If I was, I would not have married you. I think that is something you know.”

She hesitated. “I do not trust you.”

“Nor should you,” he told her, that amusement still brimming in his words. “I do not trust me, and I am the very best judge of character when it comes to myself.”

She smiled a little, slowly sitting down on the cold floorboards. “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it what you were going to ask me before?”

She nodded, then realized he could not see her. “In part, yes.”

“Then, please, proceed. It has been killing me, not knowing what you were going to say. I do so hate not being involved in a conversation. It is akin to when someone says they have a secret, and they send you into a frenzy of intrigue, only to tell you nothing at all.”

“Perhaps that is because people do not trust you,” she teased, feeling bolder with the door closed between them.

“A-ha! Touché!” He made a strange noise as if he had been skewered by something. “A hit. A very palpable hit!”

She stifled a giggle. “You are very silly for a duke.”

“You do not favor silliness?”

“I did not say that.” She smiled and immediately remembered herself. “Of course, I do not favor you, so it really does not matter if you are silly or not.”

“Of course,” he replied, and though she could not see him, she somehow knew he was smiling. “Now, I beg of you, do not keep me in suspense any longer. What were you so desperate to know?”

Nancy narrowed her eyes. “I was not so desperate to know it, and I still am not sure if I wish to know the answer, but… might you tell me what leads a man to be what you are?” She paused. “What makes a rake? I have always wondered since I found out about my father’s indiscretions.”

For what seemed like an eternity, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock, Adam did not say a word. Nancy strained her ears to see if she could hear him breathing, but either the door was too thick, he was holding his breath, he had fallen asleep, or he had left her sitting there alone, her question unanswered.

“That is like asking someone why they have a freckle on their forearm or a scar on their hand or why their eyes are blue and not brown, or brown and not blue,” he said, at last, in a voice that harbored no cheer whatsoever. “It is different for us all.”

“It is?”

“Some gentlemen crave affection the way lungs crave air,” he continued haltingly. “If they are in marriages of convenience, they might only be able to find that affection outside of their marriage. Of course, I am of the belief that ladies should also be able to seek their deserved affection wherever they please if they are trapped in such unions, so do not think I believe there is one rule for men and one for women. I do not.”

Nancy chewed on her lower lip, considering his words, wondering if he was inadvertently explaining her own future to her. “But… my mother loved my father, from the moment they met. She did not think it was a match of convenience.”

“I cannot speak for your father’s actions,” Adam said, “nor shall I. If you want to hear his motivation, you will have to ask him yourself. I suspect he was young and foolish, and thought he was trapped. He likely found it easier not to even attempt loyalty—having his cake and eating it, I suppose. Gentlemen like that are common enough, but it does seem as if he has changed. I admired the way they were together this evening, as if they were just beginning a courtship. It was charming to behold.”

Nancy had to laugh, or she might cry, for she had also cherished the sight of her mother and father dancing together that night.

“I thought you said you were not going to speak for my father’s actions?”

“Just a tidbit.” He chuckled.

“What other reasons are there?”

On the other side of the door, Adam puffed out a breath. “Some gentlemen are born rogues. They relish variety, but they do not respect their… um… conquests. They toss them aside without care.”

“Are you that sort of rake?”

Adam scoffed, “Certainly not.”

“Then what sort are you? Why are you the way you are?”

Nancy drew anxious circles around her heart, uncertain of why she felt so uneasy. It was not as if she could pretend that he was an honorable gentleman, as her mother had been able to do. So, why did she suddenly wish that Adam was honorable, eager to hear some excuse that she could accept?

“There are not enough hours until morning,” Adam said after a lengthy pause, his voice sadder than before. “I am tired, dearest Nancy, and we have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow. Let us leave this conversation for another day.”

Nancy sat up straight, glaring at the keyhole. “But you said you wanted to hear my question. You wanted me to knock and distract you from your boredom. Surely, there is a short version of why you are the way you are?”

“There is, but I doubt it would satisfy you,” he said softly, “and I should hate to leave you unsatisfied on our wedding night.”

His words winded her, her eyes bulging as she forgot to blink.

“You… really must stop saying things like that,” she chided, but even she could hear the lack of conviction.

“If you open this door, I promise I shall stop saying things like that.”

She thought she heard his fingertips grazing the wood on the opposite side, and before she could prevent it, her skin remembered the feel of his lips on her neck—a sensation so unfamiliar, so strange, so… brazen that she had not known what it was until afterward.

“If I open this door, you might try to lick me again.”

Laughter bubbled up from his former sadness, making her frown. “Oh, my darling wife, you have no idea.”

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded to know, feeling embarrassed, though she could not explain why. “I did not say anything amusing. You are the one who licked me. I ought to be laughing at you.”

“No, you are quite right, it is not amusing,” he replied in that deep, silky voice that made her stomach feel strange and fluttery, while her chest twisted into tight knots. “It is unexpectedly frustrating.”

Nancy’s frown deepened. “Frustrating? I know it was not really a lick. Are you truly that insulted that I thought that was what you did?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why are you frustrated?”

“That is something else I cannot answer,” he told her, “for it is not something to be said. It is something to be experienced. And as we have both established, I am not to be trusted.”

Nancy heard movement, and the slightest creak of the door, as if he was leaning against it, or pressing a hand to it. Her own hand went to the door’s surface as if she might be able to feel him through it.

“Rest well, Nancy,” Adam murmured. “Forget all I have said. I am tired. I say foolish things when I am tired.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, knowing full well that she would not be able to forget a word.

Indeed, he was quite right. He had left her unsatisfied. Unsatisfied and deeply frustrated in her own way, with even more questions and even fewer answers.

But there was one particular question that weighed heaviest on her mind, refusing to be quiet.

If I had opened the door, Adam,what would you have done?