Chapter 25

CHAPTER25

For a whole week—the longest of his life—Adam waited to find out just how much his wife hated him. He had expected to see her the morning after his drunken silliness so he could apologize profusely for everything that had happened, but Nancy had not emerged from her chambers. Marina, Mrs. Holloway, and his mother were permitted entry, but not him. He had tried.

“I cannot be sorrier,” Harry said, climbing up into the saddle of his horse.

Adam glanced at him. “So you have said, at least a thousand times.”

“I know, but I must say it a thousand times more,” Harry insisted. “It is my fault she will not see you, and I would not mind freeing you from that burden if you did not have a face on you like a slapped puppy.”

Adam snorted. “I do not.”

“You do.” Harry twisted the reins around his hands. “I have never seen you so morose. It does not become you. Indeed, I am becoming rather worried.”

“And that is why you have chosen today to return to London?”

Harry pulled an apologetic face. “My acquaintance from France is in residence, and I do not know how much longer she will be there. I cannot let her leave for France again without reminding her of why Englishmen are the finest in the world.”

“Go. Enjoy yourself. I shall be quite well,” Adam told him, though the truth could not have been more opposite.

He had been gloomy, and he hated every moment. Yet, each time he attempted to see his wife, to make amends for kissing her in his intoxicated condition, he was shooed away by her small but mighty army of women.

Harry frowned. “Are you certain?”

“It would not make a difference, either way. You have just said it yourself, you cannot miss this opportunity with your French mistress,” Adam replied. “So, go, and forget my sulky face. I am only out of sorts because everyone has decided that my wife is the new favorite, but I shall recover from the jealousy soon enough. All I need to do is venture to the kennels, where the dogs will give me all the attention I need.”

Harry’s face broke into a grin. “That is more like the Adam I know. And I am sorry, once again, for bringing Miss Eastleigh here. I thought you would appreciate the distraction, but I forgot that you are terribly stubborn when it comes to promises you have made.”

To avoid further interrogation, Adam had informed his dearest friend that he had merely rebuffed Miss Eastleigh’s advances because he had vowed to Nancy that he would be loyal for at least the month of their honeymoon. He had not, however, told his oldest friend that it was because he had not wanted the distraction of Miss Eastleigh at all. He had just wanted to be in his wife’s company. Even now, he did not know why he was keeping the truth from Harry.

Perhaps because he did not fully understand what the truth was, yet.

“It was as much for Miss Eastleigh’s sake,” Adam insisted. “She is to be married soon, and I certainly do not want a disgruntled betrothed knocking on my door, nor would she want to lose that security. Not really.”

Harry nodded. “Quite right. I shall tell her that when I undoubtedly see her this week.”

“Are you actually leaving, or are we going to chatter away like gossiping fishwives until sunset?” Adam half teased, for his friend’s presence this past week had made him oddly uneasy.

He had never not trusted Harry before, but it really did seem as if Harry was trying to get him to break his marriage vows before the honeymoon was over. Why else would he have brought so many guests that night?

Harry rolled his eyes. “I am leaving. I swear, I am.” He wheeled his horse around. “Be well, my good man. I shall see you in a fortnight, to liberate you from this prison you have made for yourself.”

“I shall be waiting,” Adam replied, raising his hand to his brow in a salute as Harry rode off.

The moment his friend passed through the gates and disappeared, Adam glanced around him, wondering what he was supposed to do to entertain himself. He had spent the past week catching up on estate matters and his duties to the dukedom, which he had planned to leave until he returned to London, but as his wife would not see him and his mother had decided to keep her company, work had been his only source of distraction. Now, however, with all of that completed, he was entirely at a loss with what to do with himself.

A walk, he decided, hoping that the exercise might tire him of his thoughts of Nancy and the kiss he could not forget.

He had been somewhat merry, that was true, but by the time his lips had touched hers, he had been entirely sober, knowing full well what he had been doing. Yet, he wished he had been roaring drunk so he might have used it as an excuse for his actions.

She will never forgive me. Why else would she be avoiding me?

For Nancy likely thought he was playing games, trying to seduce her as he had seduced countless others, certain that he could not be trusted.

It was a warm day, the sun beating down on the expansive gardens, the air filled with the thrum of bees and the scent of flowers in bloom—a gorgeous day that should have been relished—but the longer Adam walked, the more he wished he had his wife walking at his side. There was so much he wanted to show her.

Stooping under a low stone archway to enter the Oriental Gardens, intending to sit on the curving bridge of the ornamental lake until he felt better, he halted at the sight of someone up ahead who had, apparently, had the same idea as him.

A woman stood alone in the middle of the bridge, her back to Adam, at a gap in the balustrade that was supposed to be used for fishing. She gazed out at the sparkling surface, where fish leaped to catch the low-flying insects.

Nancy…

He would have known her silhouette and that halo of fair hair anywhere.

Steeling himself, he made his way to the bridge, hoping she did not try and run down the other side, away from him. But Nancy must have been in a deeper trance than he thought, for as his footsteps echoed on the rickety wood, she did not move or seem to notice.

“You do not look sick,” he noted, trusting in humor to thaw any frost between them.

It was as if a bomb had exploded right beside Nancy. She started violently in fright, her hand jolting up off the balustrade she had been holding. And as she whirled around to see who had spoken, her eyes wide and wild, her foot caught in the hem of her skirts.

Adam knew what was going to happen before it did, his legs powering forward in a desperate sprint, his hand reaching for her as she toppled backward, her arms flailing in a vain attempt to grab onto the balustrade.

But he was too late.

His fingertips skimmed hers as she fell, and though he lunged to seize hold of her skirts, the fabric tore in his hand. Down she tumbled, hitting the water with an almighty splash, sending every creature skittering in fright.

Oh, she really will not forgive me now.

Adam grimaced, staring down at the water, waiting for her to emerge. The ornamental lake was deep, but there were no currents or tides that might prevent a person from swimming. Yet, as he continued to wait, there was no sign of Nancy. In the spot where she had fallen, bubbles burst on the surface, and he could faintly make out the white of her dress somewhere below… but she was not coming up.

He did not hesitate. Bracing his feet against the wooden slats of the bridge, he dove into the lake, arcing through the air before piercing the murky surface. The cold hit him like a kick to the chest as he twisted around in the water, peering through the murkiness to find his wife.

There!

He spied a tendril of floating white and swam toward it, his hands bumping against solid flesh. Grabbing her any way he could, he swam upward, bringing them both back to the trusty sunlight and the fresh, warm air.

Once they had broken the surface, he realized she was not gasping for air as he was. Adjusting his position, holding her underneath her armpits so that she lay on top of him, her back against his chest, he swam toward the safety of the shallow bank.

As soon as his feet touched the lakebed, he pulled Nancy into his arms and lumbered toward solid ground, laying her down on the soft grass. Her head lolled, her eyes closed, her chest unmoving.

“Nancy!” he called, shaking her. “Nancy, take a breath! You must!”

Remembering a trick that he had been taught by a fellow Cornet on the Continent, on the fighting fields, he pulled Nancy up into a sitting position, tipping her head as far forward as he could without her toppling, and struck her back with his palm as hard as he dared. He repeated it three times, before laying her back down on the grass and, drawing in a deep breath, bringing his mouth to hers to breathe air into her lungs.

On the third kiss of life, her eyes flew wide, and her body surged upward, her forehead connecting with the bridge of his nose. Adam hissed at the immediate pain, his eyes watering, as Nancy bent to the side, her chest wracked with violent coughs, and spluttered up all the water she had swallowed.

“You… you kissed me!” she croaked, banging on her chest. “I did not give… you permission… to kiss me!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Adam narrowed his watery eyes at her. “I was saving your life. I was not kissing you, I was giving you my breath.”

“What?”

“A kiss of life, I suppose, but not a kiss,” he replied. “You were about to drown.”

She blinked in surprise. “Well, perhaps, but… but… only because you startled me!”

“I thought you had heard me and were ignoring me, as you have been doing this past week,” Adam huffed sullenly, his nose smarting. It throbbed all the way into his skull.

“I have not been ignoring you. I have not been well,” Nancy protested, but her gaze betrayed her, flitting guiltily elsewhere. Her cheeks had turned a pretty shade of pink, too.

Adam arched an eyebrow. “We both know that is not true.”

“Either way, you should have announced yourself instead of… creeping up on me. I would not have fallen if you had said something first,” she argued, drawing her knees up to her chest, her wet dress turning transparent.

“I did. I said that you did not look sick, and then you jumped as if I had fired a musket beside your ear.” He shook his head, infuriated. In all his years, he had never met a more frustrating, intoxicating woman. “Can you not swim?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Pardon?”

“I waited for you to swim back up, but you did not. Can you not swim?”

She gulped loudly. “I never had any cause to learn, for I have never lived close to the sea. Besides, swimming does not interest me. It seems a peculiar pastime.”

“But it can save your life,” he chided lightly. “And you might not have lived near the sea, but this is the second lake I have seen you near, and you almost fell into the first lake, too. You must learn to swim, Nancy. I insist upon it.”

Nancy shook her head, hugging her knees tighter to her chest. “I will not.”

“Why? There is nothing to be afraid of if that is your concern.”

She met his gaze, her expression very frightened, indeed. “I have… always been afraid of water. I do not know why. I have a friend who fears it because she fell into a pond when she was a child, but I have no memory of a similar thing happening to me. I have just… always been deathly afraid of water of any kind. The fact that you encountered me at the lakeside the first time is nothing short of a miracle because I never approach water.”

“Then why were you standing on the bridge today?” Adam cocked his head, trying his best not to look at the limbs and sweet flesh that were revealing themselves through the sodden white fabric of her dress.

Nancy shrugged. “I was trying to be brave, and I would have been fine if you had not approached me like that.”

“It is fortunate I did approach you, for what if you had slipped and no one was here? You would have drowned, and I shall not risk that happening again,” Adam said, more firmly. “You will learn to swim, and I shall hear no complaints about it. As soon as I have carried you inside, I shall venture into town to buy you suitable swimming attire, and then we will begin our lessons.”

Nancy stared at him as if imploring him to change his mind. “What if I promise never to go near the lake again?”

“It is too late for that.” Adam scooped his arm underneath her already bent knees and, wrapping his other arm around her, hoisted her up before she could argue. “You will thank me for it, one day, for it is a valuable skill to learn.”

Instead of protesting, Nancy slipped her arm around his neck, dipping her chin to her chest as he carried her back to the manor. All the while, he struggled to ignore the sight of her stays and the bare stretch of skin between that and the top edge of her petticoats. It was as if a rare flower had bloomed for him, but he was not allowed to touch it or inhale its sweet perfume.

“Thank you,” she murmured as they made their way out of the labyrinth of gardens and up a shallow, grassy slope to the house.

“For what? I have not yet taught you to swim.”

She shook her head. “For saving me.”

“Oh…” He swallowed thickly. “You are most welcome.”

“And I am sorry for ignoring you this past week,” she added. “I… felt terribly homesick, and I did not wish to leave my chambers. But I was still recovering from my ailment, too. You can ask your mother if you do not believe me. She can attest to the fact that I was still under the weather. I did not think you would mind, considering you had guests.”

Adam snorted. “I had Harry. He is not a guest. He is a… wastrel.”

“You have quarreled?” She sounded surprised.

“No, not a quarrel, but he has been rather badly behaved of late,” Adam replied, smiling down at her. “I suppose he is worried that I might actually like being married, which would ruin his entire way of life. You see, my old friend is not exactly wealthy or well-stationed, so I am his recreational benefactor.”

Nancy gave a small nod as if something had just slotted into place in her mind. “And do you?”

“Do I what?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Do you like being married?”

“I would not know,” Adam replied, unwilling to set so much as a toe into that realm of conversation, “for my wife has been absent for most of our first fortnight together.”

Nancy gasped softly—an endearing sound. “Ah… yes, I suppose I have.”

Adam could not admit that the past week without her had been a peculiar sort of torment, as if his entire life had been suspended until she had decided to leave her chambers again. There had been so many experiences he wished to share with her, to know her better, and yet he had been forced to go through them alone until even eating breakfast had seemed like a lonely affair. And for a man who was not used to waiting, or accustomed to being alone, it had left a rather sour taste in his mouth.

I care about you, and I do not know what to do with that information.

He was surprised by how protective he felt toward her. Indeed, he could not even consider what might have happened if he had not been there. It was too painful to think about, sending his nerves into a frenzy he did not like.

But that, in and of itself, begged a worrisome question: if he was already fretting over her safety now, what would that be like when they were supposed to part ways after the month was over?

Truly, he was beginning to think he could not be parted from her at all, and that terrified him.

Perhaps Harry is right to be worried…

For though Adam could not speak on what married life was actually like, he did know that he had never felt so much for any woman before. However, it was not necessarily the feelings themselves that scared him, but the possibility of them fading, leaving his wife heartbroken as he picked up old habits, abandoning her the way he promised he never would.

I cannot trust myself, and she would do well to follow suit.