Song From the Sea (30 page)

Callie wiped her eyes. “But you said yourself that we're as different as can be. Anyway, I don't think Adam ever wants to love anyone again. He's been hurt too many times.”

“It's natural for people to want to protect themselves when they've been hurt,” Nellie said in her calm, sensible fashion. “That doesn't mean that he's not capable of finding his way to loving you. The way I see it, it's a good thing that you're so different to her ladyship, for he won't be comparing you, will he?”

“Oh, Nellie, it's I who makes the comparison, not Adam,” she said miserably. “Or at least I don't think he does. I can't help but feel that Adam doesn't even bother to think of me in the same way at all, not as a real wife. I'm just someone whom he's become reasonably fond of and doesn't mind having around, a small and fairly insignificant part of his world. I'm a problem to be solved, and now that he's found a reasonable solution, he's satisfied. Next month he'll be back to thinking about the dredging project or—or whether he should have planted hay instead of turnips.”

“I doubt it,” Nellie said, rubbing her swollen belly with a little smile. “He's a man and you're a woman, and a shared bed can be a nice, cozy place for two people to get to know each other.”

“I don't think I was much of a success in that, either,” Callie said without thinking. “Oh—I suppose I shouldn't have mentioned that,” she belatedly added, blushing fiercely.

Nellie burst into hoots of laughter and slapped her hands on the table with glee. “So it's like that, is it? You're further along than you think, my girl, if he's already bedded you. He wouldn't have bothered if he was altogether indifferent.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Now, why would you say you weren't a success? Were you a virgin and didn't like it, is that it? That passes quickly enough, believe me.”

“No. No, it wasn't that at all. I mean yes, I was a virgin, but I didn't mind the pain. Nellie,” she said in a rush, too determined to get Nellie's advice to give in to embarrassment. “Are women supposed to be … well, are they supposed to be quiet and docile during lovemaking? Is that what a man expects?”

“Quiet and—now, who's been putting ideas in your head?” Nellie said with astonishment. “I can't believe it's his lordship, for the last thing a man wants is a woman lying under him behaving like she had something better to do.” She threw her head back and roared. “Ah, my Tom would love to hear that one.” She valiantly tried to sober. “Just between you and me and the wall,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes, “the more pleasure you show, the happier your man will be. He's not in it all by himself, you know. He wants to know you're enjoying his attentions.”

“No,” Callie said, blushing and laughing all at the same time, “you misunderstood me. I thought perhaps I'd shown too much pleasure. Adam's been behaving like—like a country vicar ever since. He's taken pains to avoid touching me.”

Nellie grinned. “And so he should until he has a ring on your finger, poor man. He's probably about ready to jump out of his skin if I know anything about it, now that he's had a taste of what's in store for him. Oh, my. I don't know how we're ever going to turn you into a marchioness, for you're far too natural and earthy for airs and graces to sit naturally on you.”

Callie, infinitely relieved by Nellie's reassurance, returned her grin. “I'm beginning to think I needn't worry overmuch, at least not about that part of it. As long as Adam's satisfied, the rest of the world is just going to have to take me as I am.”

“And I'm beginning to think that they will,” Nellie replied. “I'm beginning to think that they will.”

Callie returned home in the carriage, deciding that a long talk with Adam was in order. He might not like talking about himself very much, but she couldn't keep discovering important details of his life from other people. It was bad enough not knowing important details about her own—al-though at least she was beginning to find out bits and pieces, and she'd had two almost full memories already. That was better than none, even though one of them had brought the deep ache of loss and grief with it.

At least now she could better understand how Adam felt. She understood so many more things about him, given what Nellie had just told her about his childhood.

Adam's soul may have been forged by fire, but his spirit had been tempered and defined by loss over and over again. He'd managed to survive everything that had been handed to him by what must have seemed an uncaring God, but when the wife and child in whom he'd invested every hope and all the love he had to give had been taken from him by a cruel act of fate, he'd lost any hope that life had meaning. He'd certainly lost his faith. No wonder he'd said that something essential had died in him that day.

It was a wonder that he'd survived at all.

She couldn't help but love him all the more. She loved him for the fine man he was, she loved him for taking her on and being willing to make a commitment to her, even if he was making that commitment out of nothing more than practicality.

Adam had rescued her in more ways than one. He had saved her life and he had given her a future, and the least she could do with that future was to devote herself to his happiness. She would somehow find a way to show him that the ashes of despair could be sown with new seed and thrive, if tended with devotion and showered with love.

She would not fail him, no matter how much her own heart might ache.

15

A
dam paced the Great Hall, impatiently waiting for Callie to return. He wanted very much to see her, not so much because of the news he had to impart, but because he hadn't been able to suppress a vague feeling of anxiety when she'd left Stanton without him.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. She'd gone in the carriage, driven by Kincaid, who was more than competent, she had two footmen accompanying Kincaid in the box, and she had gone only as far as the village. Still, he'd feel a great deal better when he saw her safely back home and in one piece. In one very alluring piece, he reminded himself, and he wouldn't have to wait much longer to avail himself of her considerable charms. And thank God for that, because his self-control was nearly at breaking point, and it was everything he could do not to let Callie see what dire straits he was in.

His head shot up as he heard the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats coming up the drive. Gettis mysteriously appeared out of nowhere to open the door, and Adam, vaguely wondering if Gettis had always had this magic ability to materialize in precisely the right spot and moment, walked down the steps, trying to look as if he'd just casually happened to notice that the carriage had arrived. It wouldn't do for the servants to think him overeager.

But as Callie descended from the carriage and took his waiting hand, smiling at him in warm greeting, his heart filled with a very real happiness that he tried to tell himself was nothing more than relief. He supposed he'd become so accustomed to having her around that he wasn't used to her absence.

“I'm glad you're back. Come inside,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “You can tell me about your visit with Mrs. Bishop later, but I have things to tell you and they won't wait. Gettis,” he said in an aside as he took Callie into the house, “be so kind as to bring tea and something to eat into the library.”

Callie settled herself on the sofa and regarded him with curiosity as he closed the door.

“What has happened, Adam?” she asked, her cheeks lightly flushed, her eyes shining. “Is it good news?”

“It is indeed. For one, our marriage license arrived in the post just after you left, which means we can be wed anytime we choose. The post also brought a letter from Sir Reginald, and he could arrive as early as this evening. Of all advantageous coincidences, your cousin Lord Fellowes was in London and Sir Reginald ran into him at White's— that's a gentlemen's club, by the by—and Sir Reginald explained your situation.”

“That's good?” Callie said, looking endearingly unsure.

“It's good,” Adam said, sitting down in the chair across from her, “because Sir Reginald said that he'd explain in detail when he arrived, but as long as we can satisfy some questions he has, he thinks the match a fine idea, and Fellowes agrees.” Adam couldn't hide his satisfaction. “Apparently they both feel that I am a far more suitable husband for you than Harold, hardly surprising.”

“But, Adam,” Callie said, squirming impatiently, “did Sir Reginald say anything else—anything about my father's will, or whether I really was contracted to marry Harold?”

“He did not. I imagine that's what he means by details. Don't you see, Callie?” Adam said with equal impatience. “If he'd had any real objections he would have raised them in his letter, for I told him that we wouldn't go ahead with our plans until I'd heard from him and felt sure there were no legal entanglements. So as far as I can see, we're free and clear to marry, although whether you receive your inheritance is still a question—not that it matters to me, as I've told you before, but perhaps it matters to you.”

“No, that's not my concern. Are you sure that Harold won't cause any more trouble?” she asked.

“As for Harold and trouble, I've fired off a letter to inform him that we're going to be married immediately. I added that he'd better return your belongings posthaste or I'll go up to Smeeth to collect them myself, and he won't be thankful for the visit.”

Callie leaned back with a sigh of relief. “Then it really does look as if we might have a happy outcome, although Harold won't see it that way,” she said. “Adam … about Harold?” Her expression changed back to uncertainty.

“What about Harold? You look as if you still think he might try to snatch you away, which I assure you is not a possibility.”

“If you feel sure that he won't cause trouble, I believe you. I was just wondering about what caused such enmity between you. I know he's not a very nice man, and I still can't understand why my father wanted me to marry him at all, but that's not the point.” She leaned slightly forward, regarding him intently. “You were brought up with him, weren't you, for part of your life at least, and he lived here at Stanton with you. What went so badly wrong between you?”

Adam rubbed his finger back and forth over his bottom lip, not particularly wanting to revist the horrors of those years, but owing Callie the courtesy of an answer, for she had every right to it.

“To be honest,” he said, considering his words carefully, “I think that everything went wrong the day I was born. Until then my uncle stood to inherit the marquessate, since my father hadn't married at an early age and didn't seem inclined to marry at all. Harold, being older than I by two years, would have been next in line, but all of that went out the window when my father not only married at the age of forty, but also produced a son within the space of a year.”

“So Mildred and your uncle's hopes were dashed, you mean?”

“Dashed to cinders,” Adam said. “I've always thought that Mildred and Uncle Geoffrey looked at Harold as a miracle child after so many years of a barren marriage, so they not only spoiled him beyond belief, but they also managed to convince themselves that he should inherit the earth, so to speak. I was a massive inconvenience in their plans for Harold's brilliant future. Mildred's visions of her own brilliant future should not be discounted,” he added dryly. “Needless to say, they have not been realized, and she has never forgotten that, which has left her even more embittered and angry than she started out being.”

Callie nodded. “I think I begin to understand. They hated you just by reason of your existence, and when they took over as your caretakers, they made your life as difficult as they could.”

Adam's brow drew down. “How on earth did you work all that out?” he asked, sure that he hadn't mentioned anything of the sort. He avoided the subject of those years like the plague.

“Simple deduction,” Callie replied, looking off to one corner of the room, her hands clenched in her lap. “Neither Mildred nor Harold commended themselves to me in any fashion.” She turned her face back to him. “What did they do to you, Adam?” she asked fiercely.

“Nothing to concern yourself over. It's a time long over and best forgotten,” he said, not wanting to distress her any further with the truth. The truth really didn't bear thinking about.

“Tell me. Tell me, Adam, for I can't bear having these secrets between us, I really can't,” she said, her voice holding a note of genuine desperation that he couldn't help wanting to assuage, and clearly only the truth, or a semblance of it, would accomplish that.

“I went through a difficult time at the beginning,” he started reluctantly, trying to find a simple way through what had been a very complicated and twisted time. “My father had just died, and I loved him dearly. I didn't know my aunt or uncle at all well at that point, and Harold even less, but they were all I had left to me, so I supposed I had a young boy's hopes and thought they might help me through my grief, and love me a little, so that I didn't feel quite so alone. I was utterly misguided to think any such thing.”

Callie's gaze didn't waver. “Go on,” she said quietly.