An Unexpected Gentleman Part 10

Suddenly, she had the compelling need to be bold, to be courageous in the way she remembered from childhood, before responsibility had pushed dreams aside.

Without another thought, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was little more than a soft, untutored press of her lips to his, but it was exciting to hera"a thrilling and liberating act.

Better yet, Connor seemed to appreciate her effort. He smiled against her lips and murmured approvingly. And then he was kissing her back, taking her mouth with devastating skill. He teased her with small, artful nibbles that sent her pulse racing and drugged her with long, deep tastes that made her fingers curl into the fabric of his coat.

She heard herself gasp and felt his breathing quicken and his hand settle at her hip. And then . . .

The carriage slowed and bounced over a rut, jarring them apart.

Connor swore.

Adelaide ignored both interruptions and leaned forward again. She wanted more. She wanted everything. But Connor thwarted her by taking her face in his hands and pressing a kiss to her brow.

aThe carriage, love.a Yes, she thought dimly. They were in a carriage. She sought his mouth again. aHmm.a aItas slowing. No, sweetheart . . . G.o.d, you taste good . . . No, weare here.a aHere?a She pulled back and blinked at him, feeling like a half-witted owl. The sound of the wheels became m.u.f.fled as they rolled onto gra.s.s and, finally, the meaning behind the words seeped in. aOh, here. England!a aYes.a Connor smiled ruefully as the carriage came to a stop. aWhat fine timing.a Poor timing or not, Adelaide was suddenly eager, even anxious, to greet the next stage of her adventure. This was, without question, the most wonderfully exciting day shead had in years. Pushing herself off Connora"who objected with a mild grunta"she threw the carriage door open and hopped down without a.s.sistance.

aWhere are we?a aAbout a half mile past the border,a Connor replied, following her. aOr, if you prefer, slightly more than twenty miles from your home.a Her smile was slow, and matched a growing warmth in her chest. aYou remembered.a aOf course I remembered.a He gestured at the scenery. aWhat do you make of it?a aItas . . .a She looked away and took in the rolling hills and fertile farmland broken by dark stands of woods. A delighted bubble of laughter filled her throat. aItas the same. Entirely the same.a aBut itas England.a aYes, itas England.a It was new. It was more than twenty miles from her home. It was something shead wanted and nothing like what shead expected. It was brilliant.

Connor unpacked what was, to Adelaide, a perfect feast. Chicken and lamb, fresh bread and potatoes. There was watered beer, wine in a carafe, and apple slices for dessert. All were spread on a blanket, and in short order, she and Connor were sharing a meal on a gentle hill that overlooked the English countryside.

aWhat will you do with that fifteen thousand pounds?a Connor asked conversationally. He was reclining on his side, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his weight propped up on his elbow. The p.r.o.ne position ought to have made him seem less substantial, but to Adelaide, he looked like a t.i.tan in repose.

aFind a nanny for George, to start,a she replied. aPerhaps even a tutor. I fear he is behind in his education.a aHeas two.a aAlmost,a she corrected and shrugged. aHis vocabulary is not what it should be, I think. Isobel and I have trieda"a aHeas a fine boy,a Connor cut in, his authoritative tone suggesting she not argue. aA sharp lad. And heas fortunate to have you. Did something happen to make you think otherwise? Did someone saya"?a aNo,a she said softly. Sir Robert was the only person to have disparaged either of them, and his opinion mattered not a jot. Connoras quick defense, on the other hand, meant quite a lot. More than the money and Ashbury House. Those were necessities. If he wanted her for a wife, he had to provide them. But faith in her and an affection for Georgea"those were things he gave by choice.

Oh, yes, she thought, there was something redeeming in the man before her. And perhaps there was something to be made from their union.

aAdelaide?a Connoras voice brought her back to the moment. aI worry, thatas all.a aWell, donat. Tell me what else youall do when youare wealthy.a aWell . . .a She frowned absently. aIsobel needs new gowns, as do I. Our home could do with a new roof, and doors, anda"a aYouare speaking of the small again, the mundane.a aTheyare not mundane to me,a she muttered, feeling a little put out.

aThose are things you need. What do you want?a aI want the things I need.a aBut now you can want more. Be imaginative,a he insisted. aWhat will you do when your responsibilities are met? Youall have thousands of pounds left. What will you do with them? And do not tell me you plan to put every penny into savings.a aNot every penny,a she grumbled.

aCreative, Adelaide. Trya"a aI should like to take George shopping,a she cut in, surprising herself. Shead not realized until that moment how much she wanted the chance to spoil her nephew. Oh, wouldnat it be lovely to shower him with toys and treats? Evidently, Connor didnat think so. He looked a bit pained at the idea.

aWhat?a she demanded. aWhy are you looking at me like that?a aMost boys arenat fond of spending time in shops with their aunts.a aThey are when theyare shops like Mr. Fenwickas bakery,a she replied smartly. aIall let him buy anything he wants. Everything he wants. All heall need to do is point his finger. And Iall not make him save the treats either. He may eat whatever he likes.a aHeall make himself sick, a boy that age.a aMuch you know of it. You thought he could be bribed with a bit of flattery. George has the const.i.tution of a bull. Heall tire out before he can do himself harm.a She could picture him now, sticky with sugar and fast asleep on the pile of new toys she intended to buy him.

aWhat else?a Warming to the exercise, she grinned and reached for a slice of apple. aIall take Isobel to the bookselleras. She has a great love for the written word. And sheall have new watercolors and brushes. The finest to be found in town.a aYou could have finer delivered from Edinburgh or London.a aThen thatas what Iall do. She can use the ones from Banfries until they arrive.a aAnd then what will you do?a And then . . . Well, then it was Wolfgangas turn, wasnat it?

aIall pay Wolfgangas debts, of course, and . . .a She wasnat sure what came after that. She wasnat sure there was anything that could be done for her brother.

aYou wonat be paying your brotheras debts,a Connor said. aThatas for me to handle, and I am doing so.a aYou are? Buta"a aSir Robert is one of the creditors. I wonat have you dealing with him.a He gave her a hard look. aThe matter is not up for debate.a aFar be it from me to keep you from spending your own money on my brotheras debts.a She wasnat a compete twit, for heavenas sake. aI was only wondering . . . How long will it take to free him, do you think?a aSir Robert will try to make things challenging, I imagine. But thereas only so much he can do. Another day or two, no more.a aOh.a She bobbed her head but couldnat force herself to take a bite of her apple. Her appet.i.te was greatly diminished.

Connor dipped his head to catch her eye. aWhat is it?a aWould . . . would you think less of me if I told you I am not eager to have him home?a aNo, a shared parentage does not always guarantee affection. I should know.a aIt is not the same as with you and Sir Robert. You never really knew your brother.a To her way of thinking, Sir Robert had betrayed blood but not family. aYou certainly never loved him.a aNo. I never did.a He paused as if picking his words carefully. aWould you like me to wait to pay Wolfgangas debts? There are excusesa"a aNo. No, of course not. I donat want him to rot away in prison.a But neither did she want his animosity to rot away the first bit of happiness the family had found in years. aPerhaps a commission could be purchased for him.a Connor shook his head. aI offered. He declined.a Adelaideas mouth fell open. That Wolfgang should not take advantage of the opportunity was disappointing, but hardly shocking. That Wolfgang had been offered the opportunity without her knowledge was astonishing.

aYou went to see him? You spoke with him?a aWe had a discussion, of sorts, yesterday. I offered to buy him a commission, and he sent his regrets by missive today. He was decidedly unimpressed by my visit and my offer.a Adelaide grimaced, imagining the kind of insults her eternally ungrateful brother had likely tossed about. aYou should not have gone to the prison without me.a His lips twitched. aYes, Mother.a She sighed and wished she could pace. aI didnat intend that as a scolding. But youave already taken on the responsibility of Wolfgangas debts. You shouldnat be saddled with his anger as well.a All signs of humor fled from his face. aThatas for you to carry?a aIad just as soon not,a she a.s.sured him. aI only wish . . . I donat know how to help him. Iave tried everything, but somehow . . . I so often make mistakes.a Connor set down a gla.s.s of wine and looked at her with a kind of impatient puzzlement. aHow can such a capable woman have so little appreciation for her own worth?a aIave appreciation. But Iave . . . I have no training for this.a She shook her head, frustrated that she couldnat find the words to make him understand. aIt was always a.s.sumed I would either marry a gentleman of modest means or remain a spinster with a modest income. My mother saw that I was given the skills necessary to thrive in those conditions. I know how to needlepoint and paint in watercolors and organize a dinner party. But I know nothing of business or how to keep a reckless brother out of business. I was never taught how to be the head of a household.a aAnd yet youave filled the role admirably for a number of years.a Shead filled it, at any rate. aI donat know that Iave done it admirably. I . . .a She took a breath, surprised at what she was about to admit. aIave been resentful of the responsibility.a aWho wouldnat be?a Connor asked, his impatience clearly outpacing his confusion. aNo one wants to be made captain of a sinking ship.a She frowned a little, not sure if she cared for the a.n.a.logy. aI donat know that we were sinking, exactly . . . Yes, all right, we were sinking.a aAnd though you werenat trained as an officer, you have nonetheless succeeded in pulling yourself, your sister, and your nephew off the boat and onto solid ground.a He wiggled his finger in the general vicinity of his chest. aFertile ground, if I may say so. A veritable paradise. An Eden beyond the wildest imaginationsa"a aYes,a she cut in, laughing softly. aI get the general idea.a aGood.a Connor reached for his wine again. aDonat discount what youave accomplished, Adelaide. Itas not your fault Wolfgang refuses to abandon ship.a A small part of her wondered how much she had actually accomplished and how much had simply fallen in her lap. But most of her wanted to believe in what Connor said.

aPerhaps youare right.a She took a small bite of her forgotten apple. aPerhaps I will enjoy being captain of Ashbury house.a aSheas a worthy vessel. But Iam afraid she already has a captain.a aYou?a She thought about that, then shrugged. aVery well, then. Admiral Ward has a nice ring about it anyway.a aAdmiral Brice sounds even better.a aToo late, you already chose the rank of captain.a aIt will still be Admiral Brice, Mrs. Brice.a aOh. Right.a That was going to take some getting used to.

aAnd I shall be Supreme Grand Admiral of the Fleet.a aYou canat . . .a She burst out laughing. aThat is not a real rank.a He plucked the apple from her fingers. aIt will be once Iam emperor. Do you know, I believe Iall raise your George as my successor. It might be wise for me to have an ally about when you begin your campaign for revenge. You do still plan on making my life a living h.e.l.l?a She pretended to reflect on the matter. aI think . . . Not every aspect of your life. Not the parts we are to share as husband and wife. I wouldnat want to bring h.e.l.l down on my own head.a aTrust me, love, there is no sweeter place to raise a little h.e.l.l than in the parts we are to share as husband anda"a aThat is not what I meant.a aI know. It wouldnat have been half as amusing if you had.a He appeared singularly unimpressed with her withering glare. aSo, what should I be expecting, exactly? The occasional pocket of h.e.l.l? Small projectiles of d.a.m.nation?a She stole the apple back with a smug smile. aYou will have to wait and see.a Connor studied Adelaideas face carefully. She was smiling and laughing now, but the shadows under her eyes persisted. The one on the right blended seamlessly into the healing bruise on her cheekbone, and both were in sharp contrast to skin that had been leached of color by worry and exhaustion.

He hated seeing it. He hated having to wait to do anything about it.

An image of Gregoryas wooden carving entered his mind. Quietly brave, thatas how head once seen her. Stubbornly courageous seemed a more accurate description now. Courageously stubborn was even better. Resentful or not, she was accustomed to having the final word in anything and everything that touched the Ward household. She was (and would no doubt continue to be) unyielding in her defense of that duty, in her right to retain both the pleasure and weight of leadership.

It wasnat his intention to take the first away from her, but shead have to learn to share the latter. He wasnat going to stand idly by while his wife bowed lower and lower under the burden of her own family.

Theyad be his family too, soon enough.

Sooner, if the extra pounds head pa.s.sed on to his solicitor had anything to say about it.

Connor watched as Adelaide popped the last bite of apple in her mouth and reached for another slice. It had been a very long time since head been part of a familya"a traditional one. He had Michael and Gregory, but the bonds that held him and his men together were not the same as those that came with marriage, and neither were the expectations.

He experienced an unfamiliar twinge of uncertainty at the thought of some of the intangible expectations he was facing. Until now, head given them very little thought, concentrating instead on what he wanted from Adelaide and what he could easily provide in return. He wanted Adelaide to wife, and he could provide her with the security of his name and his wealth.

But there was more to being the head of a household than the supply of provisions and a surname. Ideally, a lady with even a thimbleful of blue blood would marry a man who was a gentleman by birth. Barring that, shead marry a gentleman by nature.

Connor knew full well he was neither. According to his father, a gentleman never wavered from his dedication to honesty, integrity, and courage. He had abandoned the first two before the age of twenty.

Then again, fidelity had been conspicuously absent from his fatheras list of gentlemanly attributes. And there were any number of men the ton considered paragons, and whom Connor wouldnat trust with the care of his boots.

His brother came to mind. Like as not, there was no such creature as a true gentleman, only those who could play the part well and those who could not.

There could be no doubt the late baron would consider his younger son a failure in the role, but Connor shoved aside both his uncertainty and the old, unwelcome lick of shame. He wasnat marrying his d.a.m.n father. The only expectations and ideals that need concern him were Adelaideas. And like every other gentleman in existence, he could meet the ones that suited him, and he could fake the rest.

Chapter 18.

The trip home proved to be as diverting for Adelaide as the roadside picnic. For three hours, she and Connor kept up a lively, rambling conversation.

He asked about her parents and about what shead been like as a little girl. He teased her mercilessly when she admitted to once having a great affection for mawkish poetry and entertained her with stories of his travels abroad.

He was charming and attentive, and for that brief period of time, she forgot to think of lies and debts and quests for vengeance. Connor was once again her secret gentleman from the garden; that was all that mattered.

Before she knew it, the carriage had rolled through Banfries . . . And then right past her house.

aThe driver seems to have forgotten where I live,a she said to Connor.

aIad like you to meet someone at Ashbury Hall, if youave no objection. It wonat take long.a It was growing late, already dusk. A visit to Ashbury Hall meant she likely would not return home until well after dark. A lady did not go about with a suitor after dark. Then again, a lady also did not go riding about in closed carriages. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.

aIave no objection. Who am I to meet?a aMy men.a She a.s.sumed he was referring to Michael and Gregory, the men who had come from Boston with Connor and shared a prison cell with him in Scotland. It occurred to Adelaide that those men were probably the closest thing Connor had to true family, and yet she knew nearly nothing about them.

aI should very much like to meet them.a In comparison to her first visit, Adelaide found Ashbury Hall to be a hive of activity. There were two footmen waiting to a.s.sist her from the carriage, a butler to open the front door, and a maid waiting to take her bonnet.

Her eyes grew wider with every member of staff she ran across, and by the time the housekeeper arrived in the front hall to a.s.sist the maid, who looked a trifle lost in her new home, Adelaide wasnat sure if she wanted to gape or laugh.

aMrs. McKarnin?a The housekeeper, a tall, thin woman with a mop of white hair hidden under a cap and a bright smile spread across her narrow face, gave a low curtsy. aAs you see, Miss Ward. Good evening to you, Mr. Brice.a Adelaide chose to gape, and did so until the housekeeper left the hall with the maid. Shead met Mrs. McKarnin several months ago, when shead been Sir Robertas housekeeper. Shead recognized the footmen, butler, and maid for the same reason.

She turned to Connor. aDid you steal Sir Robertas staff?a aNothing of the sort,a he a.s.sured her briskly. aThey were free of Sir Robertas employ when they were hired this morning.a She watched as another familiar footman walked by. aWhat, all of them? Today?a Connor gave a small, dismissive shake of his head. aTheyare well rid of him.a aYes, they are, but how on earth . . . ?a Laughing, she held up a hand. aNever mind. I donat wish to know.a aExcellent. I donat want to tell you.a Unable to determine if he was in earnest or nota"and loath to admit she couldnat tella"Adelaide refrained from further comment and allowed Connor to usher her into the front parlor, a room she felt to have more in common with Ashburyas great hall than any parlor shead ever seen. It, like everything else in the house, was immense in proportion and luxurious in decor. The upholstery and drapes were a lush green velvet, the fireplace marble, and the carpet thick enough to swallow her shoes. The Great Parlor, thatas what it ought to be called. In fact, all of the rooms at Ashbury ought to begin with a similarly descriptive t.i.tle. The Grand Music Room, the Colossal Library, the Lesser Yet Still Unnecessarily Oversized Family Parlor.

She stifled a giggle and turned at the rise of voices coming down the hall.

aStand still, d.a.m.n you. Itas only a bit ofa"a aStay away from me with that. Iave not put powder on my head in thirty years, and even then it werenat on purpose. Scuffle with a magistratea"a aAre you wanting the la.s.s to think weare savages?a aIam not wearing it, and thatas that.a A moment later, a generously proportioned middle-aged man and an elderly man with too much powder in his hair appeared at the open doors. Both were garbed in gentlemenas clothes, and both gave the impression of being decidedly uncomfortable in the attire. The younger man was stretching his neck as if he might work it free from the constricting cravat, and the older man kept jerking his head to the side, leading her to the a.s.sumption that either the hair powder was irritating him or he was possessed of an unfortunate tic.

Connor introduced her to the elderly man first. aMiss Ward, may I present Mr. Gregory OaMalley. Gregory, Miss Ward.a Gregory came forward and executed a surprisingly jaunty bow for a man of such advanced age. Then he straightened and smiled at her. aWill you be forgiving an old man for frightening you, la.s.s?a Oh, dear. The poor man had grown a little daft in his old age. aYou havenat frightened me, Mr. OaMalley.a He beamed with obvious approval. aSure and I didnat. You see, boy? Spine.a She had no idea what he was talking about, but he was clearly pleased with her, and she was inclined to be pleased with anyone who referred to Connor as aboya and got away with it.

The second man stepped around Gregory with a limp and ran a smoothing hand down his coat.

aMiss Ward,a Connor offered. aMr. Michael Birch.a aA pleasure,a Adelaide murmured. The surname rang a bell. She looked closer. aHave we met before?a aNot proper. But Iad wager you burnt a hole in the back of my head when you was in the garden.a The back of his head . . . In the garden . . .

It came to her then. Mr. Birch, her obstacle at Mrs. Cressas house party, was the same Michael of whom Freddie had spoken.

aYou?a Aghast, she looked from Mr. Birch to Connor. aThe two of you?a aThe three of us, la.s.s,a Gregory corrected.

Connor cleared his throat. aGregory was the gentleman in the hall.a aThe gentleman . . . I . . . You . . .a She glared at Connor, then Michael, then Gregory OaMalley with extra heat because shead felt a little sorry for him a moment ago.

The old goat wasnat daft at all.

Disappointment twisted in her chest as she realized shead found yet one more string, one more deception. Until now, shead retained the hope that some part of that night in the garden had been real. Shead known Connor had sought her out, of course, but shead not realized just how much of their first meeting had been staged. Now she couldnat help but wonder if every part of it had been an act, and if she would ever be more to Connor than a useful toy.

To her eternal horror, she felt a lump form in her throat and the burning threat of tears. To cover it, she planted her hands on her hips and turned her anger on Michael and Gregory. aThe nerve of you, sneaking about a ladyas home, uninvited. Conniving to compromise an unsuspecting woman. Grown men behaving like callous youths. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Both of you.a They didnat look ashamed, particularly. Michael was grinning. Gregory was rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. aAye. Spine.a aAye.a Adelaide tossed her hands up. aOh, for pityas sake. You cannota"a aHave a seat, Adelaide,a Connor suggested softly.

She shook her head without looking at him. She was reluctant to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might see there. Was he laughing at her? Was he feeling proud of himself for having maneuvered her so cleverly?

aI prefer to stand,a she replied coolly. What she truly preferred was to concentrate on her anger. Also, she wanted to deliver a proper set-down to Gregory and Michael, which was fairly difficult to accomplish from a seated position.

aWeall discuss it later,a Connor murmured. aPrivately. Have a seat, wren. Please.a Finally, she forced herself to look at him, and she noted with relief that he didnat appear amused or proud of himself. Unfortunately, he didnat appear especially ashamed of himself, either. His expression was guarded, his green eyes carefully shuttered, and she realized there were to be no answers or apologies while his men were present.

She looked back at Gregory and Michael. They grinned in unison. Clearly, there was also nothing to be gained from them.

aVery well,a she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

Defeated, she took a seat on the settee, and for the next half hour, she listened to Gregory and Michael talk and laugh, swap barbs and insults. It seemed bizarre to her that they should carry on so, as if they were all old friends sharing pints and conversation round a table at a tavern. And it was further distracting to have Connor seated next to her. His arm was draped over the back of the settee, and every so often, his fingers brushed along the nape of her neck, or toyed with a loose lock of hair. His touch sent warm chills along her skin, and she was torn between wanting to move away and wanting to lean into him like a purring cat.

She stayed perfectly still and tried to focus on the conversation. Gregory, she learned, was the third son of a failed Irish jeweler. Michael had been born to parents in service to a prominent English family, and orphaned before the age of ten. Theyad met as sailors aboard a merchant ship and, after a particular grueling voyage from London to the Americas, agreed to pool their savings and become Boston businessmen.

aWhat sort of business?a Adelaide inquired.

Michael gave her an odd smile. aWe was what you might call . . . purveyors of fine art.a aYou sold art?a aAye,a Gregory said. aBut we werenat what youad be calling successful. Not until we met our Connor.a aHow did you meet?a Connor pulled his hand away from her neck. aI donat thinka"a aCaught the boy trying to lift my purse,a Michael explained cheerfully.

aWhat?a She turned on the settee. aYou were a pickpocket?a aNo, I worked on the docks . . .a Connor shifted in his seat. It was a small movement, but she saw it. aBut I may have picked a pocket or two when an opportunity presented itself.a aDid opportunities often present themselves?a aDefine often.a It seemed best to reply with silence.

He shifted again. aNow and then. I hadnat the training or practice to be confident in the game.a Michael laughed. aThereas the truth of it. Iave known East End doxies what werenat so grabby as you.a aRemember youare speaking to a lady,a Connor said before looking to Adelaide. aThey put me to work. I ran errands in exchange for food and lodging. Later, when Iad proven I could be trusted, they made me a partner.a aSelling art?a Somehow, that didnat seem right. The savings of two sailors couldnat possibly have been sufficient to enter into such a business, and Connor had made no mention of his interest in art when shead spoken of Isobelas painting. aWhat sort did youa"?a Connor rose to his feet. aItas growing late. We should get you home. Gentlemen, youall excuse us.a Michael leveraged his considerable girth out of his chair. aBut we were just gettinga"a aAnother time.a The men were slow to leave, mumbling their farewells and dragging their feet across the carpet. Michael turned around at the door and spoke in a tone that approached, but didnat quite reach, apologetic.

aFor what itas worth, miss, I never were inside the birdas home.a It took Adelaide a moment to realize theyad gone back to the topic of Mrs. Cress. aOh, for the love of . . . You were on her grounds, Mr. Birch. And Mrs. Cress is not a bird.a A silly, gossiping biddy, but not a bird. aShe isa"a aGood night, gentlemen.a Connoras hard tone cut through the menas amus.e.m.e.nt like a knife. Unfortunately, the effect proved temporary. Adelaide could hear them laughing seconds after they walked out the door.

She ground her teeth a little at the sound. aYou keep interesting company, Mr. Brice.a aThey meant no offense, Adelaide.a aWas everything about that night a lie?a She cut in, uninterested in listening to a defense of his men. It was Connoras behavior for which she wanted an explanation. It was his apology shead been waiting to hear.

aNot a lie, exactly,a Connor hedged. aA ruse. There is a difference.a By no stretch of imagination did that qualify as an explanation or an apology. aThere certainly is. A ruse requires a mult.i.tude of lies.a aI had no other choice,a Connor replied patiently. aIad only just gained my freedom, and you were all but engaged. I thought there wasnat time for a traditional courtship.a aWell, weall never know now, will we?a She folded her arms over her chest. aI want to know what else has been kept from me. What else should I knowa"?a aNothing. There is . . . Well . . .a He offered her a sheepish smile. aI might have had a hand in stalling your brotheras creditors in their attempts to seize your inheritance.a Her heart executed a quick and painful somersault. aThere was an attempt to take my inheritance?a aAlso, I might have had a hand in keeping that information from you.a She digested that disturbing news in silence.

Connor lifted a shoulder. aIt was just a bit of lost paperwork here and there. A way to stall things until I could gain my release. If you had lost the inheritance, youad have put every effort into bringing Sir Robert up to scratch.a She would have, without question. His reasons for interfering made perfect sensea"from the standpoint of a man intent on stealing his brotheras almost-fiance. But there was no reason for him to have hidden the trouble from her. No reason at all . . . except to shield her from worry. It had been an act of thoughtfulness. A rather misguided and inexcusably high-handed act, but a thoughtful one all the same.

aYou should not have kept information related to me and my family to yourself. It was wrong of you, and Iall not tolerate such overbearing behavior in the future.a She sniffed, made a show of brushing a few wrinkles from around her waist, and mumbled at the floor, aBut I thank you for your a.s.sistance.a aYouare welcome.a He didnat mumble at all.

She dropped her hands and straightened to give him an exasperated look. aYou are fundamentally incapable of issuing an apology, arenat you?a aNot fundamentally, no.a A thoughtful furrow formed across his brow. It looked at odds with the spark of humor in his green eyes. aDeeply suspicious of the purported wisdom of admitting to fault, howevera"a aOh, never mind.a A reluctant laugh escaped. aIs there anything else? Any other secrets I should be made aware of?a aNo. There is nothing else you need to know.a aAre you certain?a she asked, her tone mocking. aYou havenat any other nasty siblings? Youare not married? Youare not wanted for murder in the Americas?a aNo.a He ran his tongue along his teeth. aNot murder.a aOh, mya"a He laughed and stepped forward to sweep her into his arms. aHoly h.e.l.l, youare gullible.a aThis is nota"a He bent down and gave her a brief but heated kiss. aBe easy, wren. To the best of my knowledge, and much to my regret, I have only the one brother. Iave never had a wife, and I am not wanted for a crime in any country. It was only a jest.a aIt was in poor taste,a she grumbled. aI want your word there have been no other, and will be no other, deceptions.a He brushed the backs of his fingers across her jaw, a quizzical expression on his face. aDo you trust me to keep it?a aNo, not entirely.a Head given her reason to like him, even to be grateful, but shead be a fool to forget where she, and her trust, fell on Connoras list of priorities . . . Well below his plans for revenge. aBut I should like it all the same.a He let her go suddenly, and a humorless smile pulled on his lips. aVery well. You have it.a Two days later, Connor took a seat behind his desk in the Ashbury Hall study and frowned at the pristine mahogany surface. The desk was new, just arrived from the cabinetmaker. The wood was waxed and polished to a gla.s.sy shine. Nearly every piece of furniture, every inch of the house, looked the same. He could practically see his reflection in the library shelves.

Ashbury Hall was ready; the repairs were nearly complete. The servantsa quarters were full of Sir Robertas former staff. All that was left was for Adelaide to arrive and decide what final decorative touches to put in place. Everything was as it should be. All was going according to plan.

So why the blazes did he feel so dissatisfied? Why was he being plagued by thoughts of one little lie?

There is nothing else you need to know.

It wasnat even a real lie. Adelaide did not need to know that Sir Robert had never cared for her, that the only reason head taken an interest in her at all was because . . .

Connor swore ripely . . . Was because of him.

That was the truth. He knew it, and had no intention of telling Adelaide. He was lying by omission.

As a rule, lying in any form didnat trouble him overmuch. Needs must, and all that. But this was different. It felt different. Head made a mistake not keeping his interest in Adelaide secret. It was a carelessness that had cost Adelaide dearly, and for that she deserved an apology. Offering one, however, would only serve to ease his conscience, not give her peace of mind.

Adelaide loathed Sir Robert and didnat give a d.a.m.n for his opinion of her, but no one, no one, wanted to hear theyad fallen prey to a false courtship, twice.

Not exactly twice, Connor amended. However unconventional, however far removed from the ideal, his courtship was legitimate. Unlike Sir Robert, he wanted Adelaide. The fact that Sir Robert hadnat was an insult that would never reach her ears.

This was, at best estimate, the fourth time Connor had arrived at this conclusion. And still he remained dissatisfied, and still the lie niggled at him.

Which was his fault entirely. Sometime in the past week or so, head let Adelaide get under his skin.

After a momentas reflection, he decided this a.s.sessment was not entirely accurate. Adelaide had gotten under his skin months ago. Somehow, shead worked her way deeper. She was in his blood.

And why the devil wouldnat she be? Lord knew, she was everywhere else. She dominated his thoughts, invaded his dreams, and featured prominently in every one of his waking fantasies.

Something had to be done about those fantasies. Visions of her and him engaged in the most delightfula"and, admittedly, improbablea"activities popped into his head at the most inconvenient times. Just that morning, head been going over the books with Michael one minute and envisioning Adelaide in the next . . .

Connor tilted the chair back on two legs, propped his feet on the desk, and stared at the ceiling.

Shead been in the walled garden at Ashbury Hall, if he recalled correctly, wearing her wrenas mask and not a st.i.tch more. A blanket was spread on the ground, and her lips were parted in a seductive smile. She was waiting for him. Only him.

Her thick chestnut locks fell loose around her bare shoulders. He brushed a strand aside and bent to taste the salt of her skin. The shiver that pa.s.sed over her tickled his lips. The soft intake of her breath turned him to stone. When she lifted a hand to touch, he captured it and held it down.

He wouldnat let her take, not right away. Head keep her still, standing just as she was, as he explored every luscious curve, every soft plane. When she trembled, when her knees buckled, he would lay her on the blanket and continue the sweet torture. When she moaned for him, head let her touch. And when she cried out his name, head slip between the soft cradle of her thighs and . . .

The chair slammed to the floor with a crash.

ab.l.o.o.d.y, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.a It was d.a.m.n distracting. And it made him feel like a randy teenage boy.

How the devil was he to manage a proper revenge when every time he tried to plot, the lie head told Adelaide niggled at him and an image of her stripped bare and smiling at him filled his head.