An Unexpected Gentleman Part 15

To the devil with that, she thought. She wasnat staff, and she was heartily sick of being put behind his men . . . and Sir Robert. No one should have to come after Sir Robert.

aWeall just see about this,a she muttered.

Mind set, she scooped up George and his pastry and chased after Connor.

The heels of her half boots cracked loudly in the hall, a quick staccato that pulsed in time to her rising temper. Thought shead been unbiddable before, did he? Thought he was the only one with moods and parts? Oh, shead show him unbiddable. Shead show him a mood.

She caught him with one hand on the study door. aNot your stallion, then. Another.a He didnat starta"as shead rather hoped would be the casea"but merely paused and lifted a brow. aBeg your pardon?a aI want another horse to ride,a she ground out. Honestly, the conversation was less than thirty seconds old. Just how easy to dismiss was she?

aAh. Right. So choose another. Weave a dozen mounts.a He opened the door and stepped into the study.

Determined not to be brushed aside twice, she took a steadying breath and followed. Gregory, Michael, and Graham sat around the desk arguing and digging through a veritable mountain of papers. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt at her entrance.

Good, she thought. Let them wait.

aWeave several horses suitable for pulling carriages, along with one stallion and one old nag,a she pressed, s.h.i.+fting a squirming George.

Connor walked around to the back of the desk and shook his head at Gregory, whoad reached out to put the papers away. He turned back to her. aWhy canat you ride the nag?a Gregory withdrew his hand, shrugged, and resumed his argument with Michael and Graham. It was irritating, trying to carry on a conversation with Connor when there was another conversation being carried on two feet away. It was particularly annoying that Connor appeared to be giving both equal attention.

aI have been,a she said, raising her voice over Gregoryas. She dodged a careless swing of Georgeas pastry-filled hand. aBut I should like something that can go faster than a plod. Why on earth do you even own an old nag?a aI thought George might like to sit her in a few years.a He turned to Michael. aThatas not the baronas seal.a He turned back to her. aYouave funds of your own. Buy a horse if none of those in the stable suit you.a aI donat know the first thing about purchasing a horse. Do stop waving your hand about, George. Itas food, not a sailboat.a aThe stable master will advise you.a aWhereas the map?a Gregory asked.

aThe stable master has advised me. He suggested I ride the nag.a Connor pushed a paper toward Gregory. aIall speak with him.a aI donat wish for you to speak with him.a aNot that map. The other one.a aThere is no another one,a Graham put in.

aI wish for you to speak with me about what sort of horse I ought to buy.a aIall be happy to, as soon as Iam done here.a aI would rather you set this asidea"a aThis one has black ink. I want the one with bluea"a aGeorge, will you pleasea"a Too late, she recognized her error in bringing George into the study. His fingers squeezed the half-eaten pastry, and an enormous glob of pudding shot out of the center. Adelaide watched in helpless horror as it sailed toward Connoras desk and a piece of paper she was almost certain Gregory had referred to a moment ago as athe key.a It landed with a thick splat, and Adelaide swore she could feel the force of its impact under her feet. Or perhaps that was the shock of her heart colliding with her toes.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

She stared, unblinking, at the mess, and knew with awful certainty that everyone else in the room was doing the same. The men said not a word, moved not an inch. Even George seemed to understand the enormity of what had just occurred. Head gone stiff and still as a tin soldier in her arms.

Slowly, and with great reluctance, she dragged her gaze up to face Connor, but he was still looking at the desk. She searched for something to say, some way to fill the terrible silence, but nothing seemed adequate. What if the damage was irreparable? What if the paper was irreplaceable? It had to be important. It wouldnat have been on top otherwise. Her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. Revenge was Connoras world; it was all he wanted, everything he had worked for. And shead let a toddler drown it in pudding.

aConnor, Ia"a She broke off with a start when Connor moved. Very quietly, and very deliberately, he dipped his finger into the center of the goop, taking away a sizable amount. His eyes lifted to Georgeas. And then, to her absolute astonishment, Connor stuck the finger in his mouth and pulled it out again with a small pop.

aManna from the sky,a he said and winked at her.

George couldnat have understood the words, but he knew that eating fallen fooda"with oneas fingers no lessa"was the height of silliness, and a definitive naughty. Or he simply liked the popping noise. Whatever the cause, he threw his head back and roared with laughter. He trembled and shook in her arms, his small body struggling to contain the magnitude of his glee.

That alone was enough to turn Adelaideas heart over, but what struck her deepest, what took her breath away, was the expression on Connoras face. He looked enormously proud of himself. Proud, delighted, and a little bit stunned. All because head made a little boy laugh.

And in that moment, Adelaide fell hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

The realization was stunning, and for a woman already contending with a considerable stun, it proved debilitating. Her heart galloped, the air backed up in her lungs, and her mind turned to mush.

She could do nothing more than look at Connor and make the patently absurd offer of, aIall clean it.a Connor shook his head and pushed the paper to Michael. aIall send a letter to Lord Gideon at Murdoch House today, and we can visit tomorrow. I wager he has a horse to suit you.a Horses? He wanted to speak of horses?

aI . . . Thank you. Iall just . . .a She backed away, hiding a wince when Connor came around the desk to gently take her arm.

aI am sorry,a she whispered, as he led her to the door. aTruly, I am. I know how much this matters to you. Iall get you another.a aYou donat know what it is.a aItas the blue map,a Gregory muttered from his seat.

Oh, she wanted to sink into the floor and take what remained of Georgeas pastry with her. aI am sorry. So verya"a Connor gave her a gentle nudge, gently propelling her over the threshold. Shead have taken the opportunity to bolt, but his next words, spoken softly, stilled her feet.

aDo you know the real reason I didnat make you my mistress, Adelaide?a Was there a false one? She shook her head.

aFor the same reason Iam not angry about the pudding. You matter.a And after imparting that astounding bit of information, he closed the door.

Adelaide stared blindly at the wood grain in front of her until George grew impatient and began to fuss. Slowly, she began to walk down the hall.

You matter.

It was hardly a declaration of love, and heaven knew, she could have done without having it punctuated with a door shut in her facea"but still . . .

You matter.

It was lovely. The initial panic shead felt in realizing her feelings for Connor slid away. Uncertainty remained, but it was tempered with hope. Connor might not love her, but she mattered, and that was a fine start. It wasnat foolish to believe a fondness might grow into something more. It wasnat imprudent to have fallen in love with a man who cared for her. It was dazzling and exciting.

She felt bold and reckless and br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with hope . . . Until she spoke to the housekeeper nearly eight hours later and discovered no missives had been sent to Lord Gideon at Murdoch House.

Connor had forgotten. Shead tried not to draw any conclusions from the news. After all, he was not the first person on earth to have forgotten something. Life was rife with distractions. Only last year, shead carried a squirming, squalling George halfway back from the village before remembering shead left Isobel waiting at the butcheras. In truth, shead only remembered then because shead reached into her pocket for something with which to distract George and pulled out one of Isobelas hair ribbons.

Everyone was susceptible. Everyone needed a reminder now and again. Shead remind him when he came to bed, head be suitably contrite for having forgotten, the letter would be sent, and that was that.

She fell asleep waiting for him, and she awoke alone the next morning with only the vaguest memory of him crawling into bed with her during the small hours of the morning and crawling out again at dawn.

It was disappointing, but she refused to give up faith. Connor would remember, she was sure.

But as the hours pa.s.sed and Mrs. McKarnin began to deliver the newsa"in increasingly sympathetic tonesa"that still no missives had been sent to Murdoch House, Adelaideas patience began to wane.

She found reasons to pa.s.sa"or to be perfectly accurate, stompa"by the study door. But her efforts were for naught. All she heard were voices pitched low in anger and the single phrase, aThe b.u.g.g.e.ras run off to devil knows where!a Oh, she hoped he had. She hoped Sir Robert had fallen into a bog somewhere or taken it upon himself to emigrate to Australia. She was tired of the shadow he cast over their lives and more than ready for Connor to let go of the past and see what was right before him.

It was high time they all ceased tying themselves into knots over Sir Robert.

By noon, when it had become apparent that Connor did not intend to take her to see Lord Gideonas horses, she decided it was also high time she stopped waiting on Connor Brice to remember she mattered.

Chapter 26.

The b.u.g.g.e.r had run off to Edinburgh.

Connor left his study with the thrill of the hunt still coursing through his veins. It had taken the better part of thirty-six hours to track down Sir Robert. Nearly two days of frustration and a fortune spent on bribing Sir Robertas new housekeeper. The woman wouldnat think of betraying her new master . . . for anything less than a hundred pounds.

Connor couldnat help but admire the womanas gall, and head paid the price without bothering to barter. Now everything was set, and with a perfection that he could not have planned. Sir Robertas flight to Edinburgh was a welcomed bit of serendipity. The man sought refuge amongst his own kind. He would dine and dance with Scotlandas elite, gathering his peers around him like stones in a defensive wall.

What a sight it was going to be, to watch those boulders come cras.h.i.+ng down on his head.

Connor grinned. Almost, almost he had reached his goal. A few more weeks and he would be done with Sir Robert . . . Maybe two months . . . Six at the most . . . Head revisit his timeline after Edinburgh.

For now, he wanted to savor the pleasure of impending victory with a gla.s.s of brandy and the company of his pretty wife.

The first could be had without difficulty. The second was nowhere to be founda"a state of affairs Connor had trouble accepting. How could she not be home? What the devil was she doing, running about the countryside by herself? Granted, she wasnat alone in the strictest sense of the word. According to his butler, Mrs. Brice had taken a maid, a driver, and a pair of footmen. But she wasnat with him, and that was the pertinent point.

Connor had grown accustomed to knowing where she was every minute of the day. Even when he sequestered himself away with his men, all he needed to do was inquire after her whereabouts.

The missus is gardening. The missus is in the nursery. The missus is on the veranda with Miss Ward.

He liked that. He liked knowing he need only look out the window to see her or walk down the hall to speak with her. He liked having her at hand. And wasnat the convenience of having a lovely woman at hand supposed to be one of the benefits of taking a wife?

She b.l.o.o.d.y well wasnat at hand now. And it was d.a.m.ned inconvenient. Worse, not a soul was willing to tell him where, exactly, shead run off to or how long she intended to be gone. That they knew was obvious. That they were unwilling to tell him was equally clear.

Donat know, sir.

Couldnat say, Mr. Brice.

Sheas gone out.

This last came from Isobel, who then proceeded to shut her chamber door in Connoras face.

He stared at the wood, torn between bewilderment and a rising temper. Eventually, the latter won out.

Enough was enough. He lifted a fist and pounded. aI d.a.m.n well know sheas gone out! Where? What the devil is going on here?a The only response was the sound of a key turning in the lock. It sent his blood to boiling. d.a.m.n if head be locked out of a room in his own b.l.o.o.d.y house! He spun on his heel, intending to find the nearest bellpull and ring for a.s.sistance in taking the door off its hinges, but the soft jingle of keys snagged his attention.

aMrs. McKarnin!a The housekeeper stepped out of a nearby room and eyed him with poorly concealed distaste, as if head stuck his foot in something foul and, like a good and loyal servant, she was doing her utmost not to notice.

Had everyone turned against him? aItas a b.l.o.o.d.y insurrection.a aBeg your pardon, sir?a aNothing.a He stuck his hand out and wiggled his fingers. aThe key to Miss Wardas chamber.a She took her sweet time, retrieving her enormous ring of keys from her ap.r.o.n pocket, flipping through the keys, studying each one individually.

Connor tapped his foot, ground his teeth, then tapped his foot some more. aBefore nightfall would bea"a aI donat appear to have it on my person, sir.a He dropped his hand. aWhat do you mean, you donat have it?a aI remember now. I put it away for safekeeping. What if someone should get hold of the ring, I thought? What if that someone should have wicked intentions?a She sniffed and gave him a long, pointed look. aAll precautions must be taken to protect a ladyas virtue.a aOh, for the love of . . . Iam not going to ravish my sister-in-law. I merely want a word.a aI shall look for the key.a Head wager a thousand pounds she intended to look for it until Boxing Day. Head wager a thousand more the d.a.m.n thing was on her ring.

aMrs. McKarnin!a He counted to ten as she turned around, then ground out, aWhere is my wife?a aSheas gone out, sir.a He counted to fifteen. aWhere?a aIt was not my place to ask, sir.a Twenty. aDid she give any indication as to when she might return?a So help him G.o.d, if she failed to answera"

aBefore dark, sir.a His jaw relaxed, just a little. aThank you. Iall take the Review in my study, now . . . No, the parlor.a The parlor had more comfortable seating. It also happened to have windows facing both the front drive and the stables, but he refused to acknowledge this as his reason for the change of plans. A man had a right to sit and read the Edinburgh Review on his own d.a.m.n settee.

He neither read nor sat. He tried, several times, but each time he settled in to read, he was beset with worry. What if Adelaideas carriage had met with mishap? What if Sir Robert hadnat left for Edinburgh as theyad thought? What if two footmen hadnat been sufficient? And each time, he rose again to pace off the restlessness. Three hours later, when the carriage finally rolled down the drive, he was near to climbing the walls.

aAbout b.l.o.o.d.y time.a He marched out of the house, down the front steps, and waited, hands caught behind his back, for the carriage to stop and Adelaide to emerge. He wasnat going to shout. He was not going to put himself in the position of having to apologize for losing his temper.

aWhere the h.e.l.l have you been?a Head apologize later.

Adelaide flicked him a glance as she withdrew her hand from the a.s.sisting footmanas grasp. aMr. Cawleyas farm.a Surprise temporarily pushed aside temper. aWhy the devil did you go there?a aBecause there is where the stable master suggested I look for a suitable mount.a aA suitablea"?a aHe has a fine four-year-old mare. Miss Crumpets. A stupid name for a lovely horse.a She headed for the house and would have walked right past him without another word if he hadnat turned and fallen into step beside her. Her cold manner both baffled and unnerved him.

Cautious now, he slanted a look at her. aDid you purchase her?a aI did not.a She kept her gaze straight ahead as she walked inside.

aWhy not?a aMr. Cawley would not sell her to me.a aWhy?a aBecause he was uncertain as to whether my husband would approve.a She tossed her reticule on a side table with more force than necessary. aHe says he will not sell the mare to me without your consent.a aI see.a He felt inexplicably guilty all of a sudden. As if he needed to apologize on behalf of his entire gender. aIall speak with him.a She rolled her eyes and brushed past him, but he caught her arm and turned her about again. Her color was high, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

aAre you angry with me?a What did she have to be angry about? Head been the one pacing in the parlor for the last three hours.

aOf course I am angry with you,a she snapped. aIt was an insulting and completely unnecessary experience. One I would not have had to suffer if you had sent a letter to Lord Gideon and taken me to Murdoch House as promised.a aLetter?a His mind went blank, then . . . Horses. Letters. Georgeas mishap with the pastry. He dropped her arm. aOh, h.e.l.l.a aYou forgot entirely, didnat you? Completely dismissed it. I donat know why I . . .a She pressed her lips tight, shook her head, turned, and headed up the steps.

Connor watched her until her small form disappeared. It wasnat hard for him to finish her sentence . . . why I bother . . . why I expected better. He didnat need the exact words to understand the sentiment.

An unforgiving weight of guilt, and something that edged perilously close to fear, settled in his chest like a block of ice. Uncomfortable with the sensations on every possible level, he scowled at the stairs and decided that what he really didnat need was the b.l.o.o.d.y sentiment.

So, head made a mistake. It was just one sodding mistake, not a statement of his character as a whole . . . which was, granted, a bit murky about the edges, but holy h.e.l.l, he was only human. He ought to be forgiven the odd mistake.

And he ought to be trusted to make up for that mistake. Hadnat he made up for everything else, even the things that hadnat been mistakes? Hadnat he given her a fine home and a fortune to spend, a picnic in England, and a brother free of debt and out from under Sir Robertas influence?

He d.a.m.n well had.

And yet she didnat know why she bothered? Didnat know why shead expected better? Well, if a reminder was what she needed, he was happy to oblige.

Fuminga"and comfortable with that sensation on every levela"he stormed across the great hall and up the steps. He took them two at a time and came to an abrupt halt halfway up the staircase.

This . . . was not a wise course of action.

Holy h.e.l.l, what was he thinking to do? Demand an apology? Demand she trust him? Head done that already. Obviously, it failed to take. Itemizing the things head done for her and her family was not going to change that. Moreover, head not done those things out of guilt or to gain her trust. Head done them because . . . well . . . because he had, thatas all. Head wanted to. No need to go dissecting the matter.

He rolled his shoulders, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and resumed his progress toward their chambers. This misunderstanding had been blown entirely out of proportion. Shead read far too much into a temporarily forgotten letter, and he was reading far too much into a half-finished sentence. For all he knew, shead meant to express her regret at not having trampled Mr. Cawley under Miss Crumpetsa hooves.

This was a small row, the kind husbands and wives were wont to have on a regular basis. He wasnat an expert on these sorts of disagreements, but he was fairly certain they all played out the same. The husband displayed a suitable level of contrition for one mistake, and the wife forgave him. Because she trusted him. It was as simple as that.

Feeling settled and confident, he entered their chambers and softly closed the door. Adelaide stood looking out the window. She failed to acknowledge his presence with so much as a flick of her eyes.

He caught his hands behind his back. aAdelaide, I apologize.a She nodded without turning her head and offered no forgiveness.

He decided a bit of resistance was to be expected. He took a step forward. aLet me make it up to you.a aYou may speak with Mr. Cawley, if you like.a Oh, he intended to have a conversation with Mr. Cawley. One the man would not soon forget. aI can manage better. What do you say to a fortnight in Edinburgh?a Finally, she glanced at him. aEdinburgh?a It was a brilliant idea, if he did say so himself. He could be present to watch Sir Robert fall and placate his wife at the same time. Even better, head have her all to himself. aWeall go shopping, to the theater.a Spend the week in bed without fear of interruption from her family or his men. aWhatever you like.a She looked caught between hope and doubt. aDo you mean it?a aIad not suggest it otherwise.a aAnd when would we have this fortnight?a aNext week.a She worried her lip. aCould we leave sooner?a aIave some business to conclude first.a The trap was set for Sir Robert, but he wanted to make certain, absolutely certain, of the details before that trap was sprung.

aWhat sort of business?a aA bit of this and that. Iave the final plans for the garden to review, and Iave something in store for Sir Robert I think youalla"a He broke off when she lifted a hand.

aIt doesnat matter,a she murmured. aThis trip, it will be just the two of us?a aAbsolutely,a he replied and meant it. Gregory and Michael would be in town for part of that time, but head make certain they understood he and his wife were not to be disturbed. If they needed him, they could send a note. aWhat do you think?a She gave him a hesitant smile. aI think I should like a trip to Edinburgh.a He closed the distance between them and ran his fingertips along the underside of her jaw. He was fascinated with the skin there . . . soft, fragile, and infused with her scent. He couldnat resist bending his head for a quick taste. aAm I forgiven?a A s.h.i.+ver ran through her. aI suppose . . . I suppose it was just an honest mistake.a Adelaide believed those words as she said them, and she believed in the sincerity of Connoras apology and promise to make amends. And yet a niggling discontent weighed on her shoulders for the rest of the evening and night. By morning, it had grown as thick and heavy as the blanketing fog outside.

Hoping to shake free of the mood, she excused herself from breakfast and went for a stroll in the cool, damp air. She wandered aimlessly along the trails that had been cut through the overgrown garden and tried to sort her disjointed thoughts and feelings into some semblance of order.

It wasnat difficult to pinpoint the cause of her unsettled mind. Shead forgiven Connor. Again. Was this to become a habit, she wondered, with Connor charming her one day, disappointing her the next, and she forgiving him every time? Where was the line between reasonably understanding and utterly spineless? And why the devil was she the only one stumbling between the two?

Because she was the only one in love, she thought with a sigh. It was wildly unfair.

If only she had a better sense of how he felt. Head said she mattered, and she believed him. But matter had a vague and varied definition. Revenge mattered. So did routine bathing. Did she fall somewhere in between?

She didnat want to fall in between. She wanted to be first. She wanted to matter above all else. She wanted to know what steps she needed to take to see that happen.

aThereas a long face.a Startled, Adelaide turned at the sound of Gregoryas voice. He was sitting not six feet away on a bench, whittling a weathered piece of oak. Lost in her thoughts and the thick fog, shead nearly walked right past him.

aMr. OaMalley.a She chuckled softly at herself. aI thought you were in the study with my husband.a Gregory shook his head and shaved off a long sliver. aHeas seeing to business in the library this morning. Reports and manifests and all manner of paperwork Iave no interest in.a He patted the seat next to him with the handle of his knife. aHave a seat, la.s.s. Tell me whatas troubling you.a aNothing is troubling me,a she murmured, even as she took the seat.

aAye, there is. Youave had a row with your husband.a Her lips twisted in a combination of humor and chagrin. aYou shouldnat listen to staff gossip.a aYou had a part of it out on the drive,a he reminded her. aYouave not come to an understanding?a aWe have. He apologized.a aWell now, thatas good. Thatas fitting. Have you forgiven him?a She absently brushed a thick wood shaving from the bench. aYes.a aAnd are you regretting now that you have?a aNo. He was sincere in his apology.a She watched him shape the top of the stick and found there was something soothing in the sure and steady pa.s.s of his knife over the wood. aHe was very quick to offer it as well.a Gregory made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, which Adelaide would have paid dearly to be able to translate into something useful. It was ridiculous, perhaps even a little sad, that she should be seeking insight from one of Connoras men. But, d.a.m.n it all, there was no one else to ask. There was no one else who knew Connor so well, or for so long.