Authors: Katherine Kingsley
“Suppose I do have to be married to Harold to inherit? That's how your aunt made it sound,” she said. “I don't think I could bear it, Adam. I'd rather be penniless, I really would. Could he bring a breach-of-promise suit against me?”
“As I said, these are things to be discovered, and the sooner we discover them the better so that we know where you stand,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I can't believe Harold has the legal premises for a breach-of-promise suit or he would have kicked up more of a fuss, but he might not have all the information at his disposal yet, either. Harold would dredge through the sewers to get what he wants, and if he wants you, or rather whatever money you might have to offer him, he will go to any length to get it, and his mother will be right at his side.”
Callie paled at the thought of being pursued by Harold in any fashion, let alone his ghastly mother.
“Are you trying to frighten me into marrying you?” she said, only half joking.
“Certainly not. I am only pointing out that we don't know all the facts, and I'm putting myself forth as a better alternative to what you might face should you turn me down.” He laughed at her appalled expression. “To be serious, Callie, I would never try to coerce you into marriage, but if you do manage to bring the logical part of your brain to bear, I think you will see that my argument does have a certain degree of reason to it. And even if you can't inherit if you don't marry Harold, your money isn't important to me.”
Callie saw the reasons behind his argument well enough, and she couldn't see a logical alternative. Her heart and conscience were another matter entirely. She needed time to examine them more deeply, for she still couldn't marry Adam unless both were clear and unburdened. “I will promise to think about what you said, but for now, I'd rather leave the subject alone.”
“I understand. You have a great many other things on your mind, and any time you wish to talk about them, please feel free to come to me. I don't care if it's the middle of the night. If you need comfort or reassurance I am always available.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Knowing that I can come to you is a comfort in itself.” She hesitated, not sure if she should ask him the one question that presently burned on her mind, and decided perhaps she'd better not.
“All right, Callie,” he said, amusement lighting up his face. “You know I can read you like a book. What is it now? You're practically squirming.”
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “Have I offended you by refusing your proposal?” She couldn't help peeking up to see his expression, but it hadn't changed one iota. He still looked vastly amused, and she felt even sillier.
“
Offended
me? Good gracious, no. I can easily see why you wouldn't want to take me on unless you had to. I do, however, think that I really would be offended if you married Harold instead.”
“That will never happen,” Callie said fiercely. “I'd kill myself before letting him anywhere near me!” Her hands flew to her mouth in horror as she heard what she'd unthinkingly said. “Oh, no … oh! You don't suppose that's what really happened that day? That I deliberately did jump overboard, rather than marry Harold?”
“I honestly don't know,” Adam said gently. “If you thought you had no alternative, perhaps. That's certainly what I would have done if I were being forced to marry Harold,” he added, trying to inject a note of lightness into his voice. “But given what you said last night about your faith in God and eternity, not turning your back on life, taking the bad with the good, and all the rest? I have to think you would probably face anything rather than give up.”
“You were listening!” she said, terribly pleased and forgetting all about Harold.
“I could hardly help listening,” he replied dryly. “You didn't give me an alternative.”
“I'm so glad,” she said simply.
“So am I,” he said just as simply, and Callie wondered why his eyes suddenly seemed unusually bright.
He turned his head away before she could ponder the question any further. “There,” he said, clearing his throat and pointing. “You can see the abbey. It always looks so beautiful at this time of day when the sun catches the rooftops and windows just so.”
“As if it's alight from the inside, offering a warm welcome,” she added, and he glanced back at her in surprise.
“I have always thought the same. It's funny how such a large pile of stone and mortar can seem to have a life of its own completely separate from its inhabitants. We mortals come and go, living but a brief moment in the scheme of things, but the heartbeat of the structure carries on untouched.”
“That sounds like a very good description of the soul,” Callie said with satisfaction.
Adam looked at her in disbelief. “You're surely not comparing the soul to a
house
?”
Callie grinned. “It's the other way around. The body is the house and the soul is the heartbeat that goes on unchanged.”
Adam didn't say anything. He looked out the window again, then up at the ceiling of the carriage, then gazed fixedly at the door handle, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. A muffled wheeze escaped him, and then another, and the next thing Callie knew, Adam's shoulders shook helplessly with silent laughter as tears poured down his cheeks. He leaned sideways against the door. “Ah …it's too much,” he gasped. “You don't stop, do you?”
“Adam!” Callie said indignantly, pushing at his hard shoulder. “I was perfectly serious.”
“I know,” he said, lifting one hand to fend her off. “But please, please not another word.” He hooted and fell back against the seat, clutching his ribs.
His mirth was infectious and Callie caught it. She started to giggle and soon was overcome by lovely, silly, cleansing laughter that eased her aching heart and lifted her troubled spirits.
When Gettis opened the carriage door, he found them collapsed against each other, tears of hilarity running down their faces.
He had to summon every shred of dignity he had to keep a poker face, but as soon as he was safely alone in the back parlor, he danced a stiff little jig of joy.
Adam stopped in his study to check the afternoon post and to see if anything had been put on his desk that needed his immediate attention, but his mind wasn't on his job and he was relieved that nothing pressing had arisen in his absence. His thoughts were filled with his last image of Callie, her cheeks rosy from laughter, her eyes dancing as she'd alighted from the carriage looking like a child who'd been caught out in a prank, the corners of her lips trembling with suppressed laughter as she'd attempted a composed entry into the house.
He hadn't managed any better at feigning composure than she had, fairly certain that their state of dishevelment hadn't gone unnoticed by the staff, but he really didn't give two figs. He was grateful that Callie had been able to laugh at all, given the series of shocks that she'd received that afternoon, but then Callie had an extraordinary ability to rebound in the most extreme circumstances—or at least to make a good show of rebounding. He'd learned that her emotions ran deep and that she could be highly adept at keeping them to herself.
He'd also learned, having been on the receiving end more than once, that when she did choose to reveal those feelings she had an equally remarkable ability for incisive honesty.
That didn't make the experience any less raw, and if he was to be just as honest with himself as Callie was, he couldn't say that he felt very happy about the day's outcome.
Not that he minded about Harold, he thought as he closed the door behind him and started across the hall and up the stairs to change for dinner. Looking at that peculiar turn of events, he could almost be amused. He couldn't have planned a better comeuppance for Harold and Mildred if he'd tried, and he had spent a good many years trying.
He just wished that Callie didn't have to be involved, but she was as involved as she could be, and he wasn't about to let her take the consequences for Harold and Mildred's enmity toward him. That there would be consequences, Adam had no doubt. His job was to minimize them as much as possible, but for that, he needed Callie's full cooperation, and Callie's stubbornness wasn't helping matters.
He would need to speak with Sir Reginald as soon as possible and find out exactly what Callie's situation was; he'd be in a much more credible position to do that as Callie's fiancé. As things stood now, he would be hard-pressed to explain the nature of his relationship with her, which he could hardly explain to himself. He knew Sir Reginald would take a very dim view of Callie's living at Stanton without the benefit of matrimony, and her cousin Lord Fellowes would be no happier.
Adam was
not
pleased to be put in such an awkward situation, all because Callie refused to see sense.
Adam paused on the landing. The more he thought about it, the sillier Callie's refusal to marry him seemed. He had saved her life, after all, at the risk of his own. He had looked after her ever since with every generosity, even extending that generosity as far as to offer her his name in marriage, a very magnanimous and unselfish gesture on his part—especially considering that he'd made a solemn vow never to marry again. She was entirely ungrateful to have refused him at all, when it came down to it.
He brought his fist down on the newel post. And why had she refused him? Simply because he hadn't bowed down before her like a lovesick calf and begged for her hand. He should be deeply insulted, although he was far too reasonable a man to waste time with such useless emotions. He was a reasonable man, a levelheaded man who conducted his business affairs with logic and thoroughness, and this was no time to deviate from that course.
He made up his mind. The only way to deal with a headstrong girl like Callie was with a firm hand, and there was no time like the present. She needed to be told what was best for her. He didn't have time to wait for her to come to the correct conclusion by herself or they'd both end up looking like fools.
Walking down the hall to her door, he rapped.
Callie almost immediately opened it, still fully clothed, much to his relief. He wasn't about to have his will bent by her state of dishabille, as he'd been last night.
“Adam?” Her fingers moved to her throat, just above the point where her pulse beat steadily beneath the fragile blue vein. “Am I late for dinner? I was about to change, but I needn't, not if you'd like to go straight down.”
“The only thing you might change, Callie, is your mind,” he said firmly, trying to ignore the slender, tantalizing curves of her body, the sweet, trusting expression in her questioning eyes. “Now that I've had time to properly reflect, I've decided that we don't have the time to consider any options other than marriage without incurring difficulties that I, for one, do not wish to deal with. According to the rules of proper behavior, we are both in a compromised position, and believe me, that is how people will see it when they learn, which they will, that we are living together without the benefit of marriage. Therefore, I'm relying on your good sense to do the reasonable thing.”
Callie's expression immediately changed from sweet trust to outrage. “If I hear you correctly, my lord, you are insisting that I marry you?”
“I am not insisting, I am merely once again pointing out the obvious.” Adam no longer felt quite so sure of his ground, given that she glared at him as if he'd suddenly become the enemy.
“The obvious,” Callie said with disdain, “is that you pretended to listen and to actually care about what I might think, and all the while you were thinking of nothing but yourself and your own reputation. I will most certainly not marry you, not under any circumstances, even if I have to live in penury
and
disgrace for the rest of my life. You and your despicable cousin have much in common, as it turns out.”
“Do not think to compare me with my cousin,” Adam said, cool reason swiftly vanishing to be replaced by quickly rising anger. “We are nothing alike, I assure you, and I do not care to be insulted.”
“Nor do I,” she said, thrusting her hands on her hips. “I am not a—a piece of property to be allocated as and where it suits you. You seem to forget that I have feelings, Adam, and a mind of my own, and I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions without your help.”
“Very well, madam,” Adam said icily, wanting to shake her until her teeth rattled. “I shall keep my help to myself and you can wallow in the consequences of your ill-advised decisions all by yourself. I shan't trouble you again with my obviously offensive offer of marriage, since you have made yourself very clear on the matter and I have no intention of making a nuisance of myself.”
“Adam,” Callie said, dropping her hands and taking a tentative step toward him. “I didn't mean to imply that—”
“The subject is closed,” he said, deeply annoyed that he'd let Callie make him lose his temper, something he never did. “I am going to change for dinner and I suggest you do the same. I consider it the height of ill manners to keep the servants waiting any longer than necessary.”
He spun on his heel with that satisfactory parting sally and walked with what he thought was admirable dignity down the hallway to his room, a little disappointed when he heard Callie's door close softly instead of with a great slam, for he would have felt much better if he'd managed to upset her as badly as she'd upset him.
Stabbing her needle into her embroidery as if she'd like to poke someone's eye out, Mildred glared at her son, who was at that moment donning his caped box coat in preparation for a night out in town. “Have you no sensibility at all?” she snapped. “Your cousin has as good as ruined our future—our
mutual
future, might I add—and all you can think of is your own pleasure. If you were half a man you would go and call Adam out, or at the very least claim the girl for your own. How could you have just stood there and let him snatch her away from right under your nose?”
“Please, Mama,” Harold said, thoroughly out of patience with his mother, who had been carping at him nonstop ever since the disastrous encounter in Folkestone. “We've been over this a hundred times already. There's nothing to be done. Adam has done it already. He never could stand to see me have anything, and he's gone out of his way to make sure of it this time too.”