Candice Hern (30 page)

Marianne's stomach lurched at the thought that Wilhelmina might be right about Adam's feelings toward her. Was he truly head over ears in love with her? She wasn't sure what answer she wanted to that question. To know he was in love with her would be a thrill beyond imagining. But could she accept his love without betraying David? And what of her own feelings? She was more than attracted to him, and always a bit infatuated by his seductive charm. She had loved him as a friend for years. But was she
in
love with him?

She did not know what to think. She needed to see him again to decide how to go on.

But where was he? It was almost a week since she'd left Ossing, and Grace said Adam had departed that same day. Where the devil had he gone? He was not at the house on Bruton Street. She had been watching for signs of his return, but the house remained dark.

Was he avoiding her? Now that his betrothal had ended, was he reluctant to face her after all? Was he regretting that glorious night and his words of love? Damn the man for making her crazy. If he ever did return and come to her, she was determined to make him suffer. The Merry Widows were right about that.

And afterward? When he'd been properly punished?

Marianne knew exactly what she wanted to happen. She wanted him in her bed again.

It had taken him almost a week, but he'd done it. It was difficult to obtain a special license when one was an ordinary mister with no title and did not have any special connection to the Archbishop of Canterbury. It meant long, tedious days of waiting around Doctors' Commons and plowing through endless bureaucratic nonsense. One would think he was trying to obtain permission to commit some heinous offense to human nature rather than to marry the woman he loved.

But he'd done it. Adam now held in his hand the special license with both their names on it. It was good for three months. Hopefully it would not take that long to persuade Marianne to accept his offer.

He had taken a room in a nearby inn while he waited for the license to be issued. He had not wanted her to see him at Bruton Street until he was prepared. If she knew he was at home, she might try to contact him, might even come to his front door. And he did not want that. Not yet. Instead, he had decided to stay away until he could present himself to her complete with a confession, a declaration, an offer of marriage, and a marriage license. As an added incentive, he'd also purchased a huge bouquet of her favorite pink lilies. He was ready now to make his case.

He had been practicing his speech for days. He wanted it to be just right. He wanted her to know how much he loved and honored her, how sorry he was for deceiving her, even though he had not meant to do so, and how he wanted to repeat that one night of love every night for the rest of their lives.

Adam had always been confident in his dealings with women. But he'd never bared his soul to the woman he loved. He was as apprehensive as a schoolboy with his first infatuation. His stomach churned with nerves. What if she sent him packing?

For the first time in years, Adam knocked on the front door of number 7 Bruton Street. This interview was too important for a clandestine scramble over the balcony. He wanted this to be formal and proper and honorable.

The butler, Fyffe, opened the door. Only a slight lift of his eyebrows, quickly schooled, indicated his surprise at seeing Adam at the front door.

"Good afternoon, Fyffe. I've come to see Mrs. Nesbitt, if you please."

"I will see if she is at home, sir. Follow me to the drawing room where you may wait."

Adam knew she was at home. But Fyffe was required to pretend she might not be, just in case she refused to see him. Marianne would never refuse to see him, though. Would she?

* * *

She had not expected him to come to the front door, but she was especially glad he had done so. It gave her time to prepare. When the footman came to announce that Adam waited in the drawing room, Marianne sent him to have the carriage made ready. He was given instructions to let her know as soon as it arrived at the front door. And with the help of Rose, she quickly changed her clothes.

She wondered what it meant that Adam had made a formal visit and hadn't climbed over the balcony. The only reason she could imagine was that he had something important to say. Or that he was feeling extraordinarily contrite. She rather hoped both things were true,
but quelled her excitement. She could not let him see her feelings if her plan was to work.

Part of that plan was to look her best. She donned a new white cambric dress she'd never yet worn that she thought was especially pretty. It had a pleated fanlike frill at the neck that looked smart and stylish. The hemline was decorated in a beautiful design of tucks and white needlework. It was a lovely dress, but even better was the Prussian hussar cloak of Sardinian blue velvet, lined and edged with pink satin and trimmed with pink and blue knotted fringe. She fastened it at her throat with pink ribbons tied beneath the fan-pleated cambric frill of the dress. The entire effect was elegant and exceedingly fashionable, the cloak being the very latest mode. The finishing touch was a Moorish turban hat of the same blue velvet and pink trim.

Marianne could face anything wearing such a costume. She did not believe it was an exaggeration to say that she looked fabulous, which was precisely what she wanted for the role she was about to play in Adam's punishment.

She was dabbing a bit of tuberose scent at her ears when the footman returned to tell her the carriage was ready. Excellent. The stage was set. Now, if only she could be strong enough to play the role she had assigned herself. She could have used some of Wilhelmina's cordial just now.

She checked herself in the pier glass once more, grabbed her gloves and reticule, took a deep calming breath, and headed downstairs to the drawing room.

* * *

Adam's nerves were stretched to their limit. She had kept him waiting for over twenty minutes. He supposed he should be glad she had agreed to see him at all, but the wait was excruciating. Too jittery to sit, he had worn a path in her carpet as he paced back and forth.

He heard the sound of a carriage outside. Damn. Was she expecting another visitor? He sincerely hoped not. He would have to postpone his declaration and his offer until another time, and he was very anxious to get on with it. He wanted to know where he stood, and would not be happy to have to wait to find out.

He looked out the window to the street below and saw Marianne's own carriage at the door. Confound it all, she must be on her way out. That was likely why he'd been kept waiting — she was getting herself ready to go somewhere. But surely she would spare him a few minutes to pour his heart out to her.

He resumed pacing and mentally rehearsed his speech.

He heard footsteps in the hall and a moment later Marianne burst in. She beamed at the sight of him, looking so stunning she quite took his breath away.

"Adam! How lovely to see you. And in the drawing room, for once. How very singular. I am afraid I am on my way out, however, and cannot spare you the time just now. What beautiful lilies. Did you bring those for me? How exceedingly thoughtful of you."

She reached out to take the flowers from him, buried her face in them for a moment, then looked up and smiled. Her dimples were on full display, and he could not remember seeing her look so happy. Or so beautiful.

"You look positively delicious, my dear. That cloak is dazzling."

She smiled coquettishly. "It is rather cunning, is it not? I confess I am quite pleased with it. I wanted to look my best today. But really, Adam, I must run."

"I hope you can spare me a moment, my dear. There is something important I wish to say to you."

"Oh? Well, be quick if you will. I really am in quite a hurry. Why don't I just put these lilies in a vase and you can tell me whatever it is you have to tell me? And then I simply must dash."

She glowed with some sort of excitement as she went to a marble-topped commode and placed the lilies on top, opened the doors in its base, and retrieved a Chinese porcelain vase. She kept her back to him as she held it up for consideration.

"And so what is it, Adam? If you are here to tell me that your betrothal has ended, you may be sure I already know. It was quite the on-dit for several days. I trust your heart is not broken."

He wished she would turn around. But she had apparently decided the Chinese vase would not do, and was now examining what appeared to be a Sevres vase decorated in shades of pink and pale turquoise.

"No, my heart was never involved, as you know."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Then no great harm was done." She turned back to the lilies and began arranging them in the vase one by one.

"Marianne, would you mind turning around, please? I would prefer not to say what I have to say to your back."

"Oh? Well, all right." She shrugged and carried the vase and flowers to a tea table. She faced him and smiled, then proceeded to arrange the lilies.

It was not what he hoped for. He wanted her full attention, her eyes on his. No doubt when she heard what he had to say, she would stop fussing with the flowers and look at him.

"Marianne, I want you to know how glad I am that my betrothal has ended."

"Oh? Well, of course that girl was all wrong for you, as I told you from the start." She looked displeased with the arrangement of flowers, removed most of them, and began again.

This wasn't going as he'd planned. Her distraction with the flowers was disconcerting, but he had not got to the main point yet.

"She was not the right woman, that is true. I am in love with someone else."

She continued to place flowers in the vase and did not look up. Or react. Damn. "You see, I have been in love with someone else for years, only I didn't realize it until it was almost too late." Suddenly, the practiced speech flew out of his head and the words spilled out in a jumbled rush while she continued to arrange the lilies.

"Don't you see, Marianne? It's you, it's always been you. Even when David was alive. I can't say for sure when it happened, but I probably fell in love with you the first moment we met. But I kept it hidden, of course. I would never have betrayed David's friendship. And so I buried my feelings for you. So deep and for so long, in fact, that I forgot about them, and convinced myself you were a close friend and nothing more. And since his death, I kept my love for you a secret, even from myself. It was only when I became engaged to Clarissa and you set out to find a lover that those long-buried feelings came alive again. When I realized I'd rather be with you than the woman I was to marry, I knew I'd made a huge mistake. But now that it's over, I don't want to keep my love a secret anymore. I want you to know how I feel. I love you. I don’t think I can live without you, Marianne. You are the most important thing in my life, and I was a fool not to realize it. I have spent so many years making excuses for hiding my love — fearing rejection, feeling guilt for betraying the memory of David, feeling unworthy. None of those things matter anymore. Only the truth matters. And the truth is that I love you more than life, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you, if you will have me."

He stopped the rush of words to take a breath. Marianne had not looked up from her flowers. She removed one from the arrangement and replaced it on the other side, then picked up another and studied where to place it. She had not said a word.

"Marianne?"

No response.

"Marianne?"

She looked up and gave a sheepish giggle. "Oh dear. Were you speaking to me? You must forgive me. My mind was wandering."

Her mind was wandering?

She looked at the arrangement again, gave a nod of approval, and took the vase to a small table in the window.

"You will think me the rudest creature on earth," she said as she pulled on her gloves, "but I am afraid I haven't heard a word you said. I am so distracted this afternoon."

"I was asking you to marry me, damn it," he said, his voice filled with frustration.

She tilted her head and gave him an indulgent smile. "Were you? How terribly sweet, Adam. You must be very disappointed that your betrothal was canceled. I am honored that you would ask me to take Clarissa's place. But quite frankly, even were I interested, I cannot marry anyone just now. I am too preoccupied with discovering the identity of the man who crept into my bed at Ossing."

"But, Marianne —"

"You see, he gave me such incredible pleasure, I really must seek him out and let him know I would be more than willing to be his mistress."

"But, Marianne —"

"I have not been able to stop thinking about him, you see. He was a fantastic lover."

"But, Marianne —"

"And between you and me, I am fairly confident it was Sir Neville Kenyon. In fact, I am hoping I can persuade him to admit it today. That is why I must dash. I am all aflutter with excitement."

"But, Marianne —"

"I am sure you will forgive my, my friend, but I really do not want to keep him waiting another moment."

Like quicksilver, she was at the door and out before he could take a breath. "I know you can show yourself out," she called as she descended the stairs. "Good-bye. Wish me luck!"

And she was gone.

Adam stood in stunned silence in the middle of the drawing room. He could not believe what had just happened. She hadn't even heard his declaration of love, and she had not taken his marriage proposal at all seriously.

Or had she?

Even were I interested, I cannot marry anyone just now.

Even were she interested. Which could only mean that she was not. Perhaps by her flippant response she had hoped to soften the blow of rejection by pretending not to take him seriously.

And damn it all to hell, she still thought it had been Kenyon in her bed.

He had to tell her the truth about that. He had meant to, but she had not let him get a word in. It had been the wrong time. He should never have tried to make a serious declaration of love when she was in a hurry and so obviously distracted. He would simply have to come back and try again.