‘Yes...thank you. You are very considerate.’ Adam risked another glance at her. Her cheeks were rather pink and she seemed in some sort of difficulty. He was not sure whether her foremost emotion was embarrassment or...was that a gasp of despair or could it possibly be laughter?
‘You may think me impertinent, perhaps? Yet I should not wish you to lose your home because of a misunderstanding.’
‘No, certainly not, that would be unfortunate.’ She had herself in hand now and smiled at him. ‘I assure you I do not find you in the least impertinent, sir. Indeed, I am grateful for your care of my reputation.’
Adam made no immediate reply. She was obviously much affected by her change in situation. He could only suppose that she had been brought up to expect the best from life and her new circumstances were distressing her.
‘I should never wish to be the cause of harm to a young lady, especially when you find yourself in difficulties,’ he assured her and heard a little gasp from the maidservant. ‘Now tell me, are you looking forward to Lucy’s wedding?’
‘Yes, very much indeed,’ the reply came easily now. ‘The summer holds many treats ahead, I think, for Lady Dawlish is a generous hostess and will not permit herself to show me any lessening of regard because of my reduced circumstances.’
She had brought herself to speak of it and Adam was respectfully silent. He knew how much it must have cost her to speak of such things and was determined to be as generous and kind as he could.
* * *
For the next half an hour he regaled her with stories of his and his cousins’ exploits on the field of battle, describing the fierce fighting and their feelings of despair when at first forced to retreat. Also, the true comradeship and care for one another their experiences had forged.
‘When Old Hookey gave the orders to advance I was never more delighted in my life. What might have been a rout ended in a brilliant victory—and it was due to his strategy and the bravery of men who would cheerfully have died for him.’
‘I fear too many died,’ Jenny said. ‘I recall my uncle speaking of it—but he did not say much for he knew any talk of such things would distress me.’
‘Yes, indeed, it is not the subject for a lady’s parlour,’ Adam admitted. ‘I believe Wellington is now in Vienna. I fear he will find making the peace more difficult than he found the campaign. It is always so, for politics is a dirty business and men who would not know how to command a fly have a deal too much to say about how things shall be settled.’
‘My uncle was of the opinion that Napoleon should be tried and executed, but I dare say that will not happen.’
‘I think too many voices would be raised against it. He must certainly be contained for we cannot allow him to wreak further havoc in Europe—but he is a fine general and an execution might be a hard way to end such a life.’
‘You sound as though you almost admire him?’
‘Yes, in a way, I suppose I do. He was a worthy opponent. At one time the most brilliant general that ever lived, barring Wellington himself—though at the end he made mistakes he would not have made when he was younger. Like many others before him he grew too big for his boots. Power went to his head. Had he known when to stop, he might still have been emperor.’
‘Yes, perhaps. I had heard some speak of him in romantic terms, but thought them foolish girls—but if you admire him, the case is proven.’
Adam chuckled for such forthright speech was not often met with in a young lady and he found her views refreshing. Glancing at her sideways, he wondered what other pearls of wisdom might drop from those sweet lips given the chance.
Jenny glanced round at her maid. ‘Are you comfortable, Meg?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. Much more comfortable now.’
‘My uncle’s coach rattled us almost to death,’ she said and laughed. ‘Casting a wheel was better fortune than we knew.’
The sound of her laughter warmed Adam. He was suddenly aware of her sitting close to him, her femininity, and her subtle perfume that he thought was her own rather than from a bottle. She was quite lovely—though no cold beauty. He thought of some of the proud London ladies he’d seen dressed in their rich gowns. In her simple travelling gown this young woman cast them all into shade. He felt something stir in his loins—a feeling he did not often associate with innocent young ladies.
Adam’s taste was normally for older women, opera singers or dancers, or the occasional widow who needed a friend’s support to keep the wolf from the door after the death of her loved one. Over the years he’d taken his lovers lightly: a Spanish tavern wench, a French actress, several English ladies who had been married, some more than once. To feel the heat of desire curl through him because of a proper young lady sitting beside him was a new experience. Though it made him smile inwardly, he ruthlessly crushed all thought of what her lips might taste of or how the softness of her skin might feel pressed against his.
Miss Jenny Hastings was out of bounds. She had no fortune and neither did he so marriage was not a viable proposition had either of them had the inclination, which it was much too soon even to consider—and anything else was out of the question, even if this feeling happened to be more than fleeting lust. He could offer her friendship and he would—but his honour forbade him to take advantage of her vulnerability. No, he must conquer the sudden and ridiculous desire to stop the carriage and catch her up in his arms. It was quite ridiculous. They were complete strangers and knew nothing of one another. He really did not know what had got into him! And yet when he’d caught her eye in that London ballroom he’d felt drawn to her somehow.
* * *
‘Are we very far now?’ she asked after he had lapsed into silence for some twenty minutes or more.
‘Are you hungry or tired?’ he asked and glanced at his watch. ‘I suppose we might have stopped, but I thought it unwise to eat at an inn. We should be at Ravenscar Court in a few minutes.’
‘Oh, good,’ Jenny said. ‘My aunt’s cook put up a hamper for us, but in the distress of the accident it went rolling into the ditch and was lost.’
‘And you are hungry.’ He heard a sound that could only be her stomach growling and became aware of his own hunger—not the sexual hunger he’d felt earlier, but a natural desire for food. ‘I promise you it will not be long. My cousins will provide us with refreshments as soon as we arrive.’’
* * *
Adam pulled his chaise to a halt at the front of a large, imposing country residence some fifteen minutes later. His tiger jumped down and went to hold the horses’ heads, while he helped first Miss Hastings and then her maid to alight.
‘Well, here we are,’ he said. ‘I am expected so someone should be here at any—’
The sound of shots being fired startled him. He looked about him in search of their source, thinking that they must have come from somewhere at the rear. It was even as he was deciding what to do for the best that a man came from the front porch and stumbled towards him. Adam saw the blood and gave a cry of distress and shock, rushing towards his cousin. He was in time to catch Mark before he collapsed. Holding him in his arms, he knelt on the gravel, looking down at the face of the man he had always believed the most favoured of the gods and practically invincible.
‘Mark, dear fellow,’ he said, for he saw that the wound was fatal and his cousin had but a short time to live. ‘What happened—who did this to you?’
‘Father...Paul...tell Father to watch out for him...’
The words were so faint that Adam scarcely heard them. His head was in a whirl, his mind suspended in disbelief. How could this be happening? Mark had sailed through all the campaigns on the Peninsula and in France. How could he be lying in Adam’s