Adoration

by Rebecca King

  She was, once again, left to face her thoughts, and they were troubled thoughts because they were all focused on the one man who she knew she couldn’t ever have: Morgan Rothersham, Lord Campton.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following morning, Morgan shared a rueful look with Ralph before turning to stare at the passengers in his Barouche. He had no idea how Mariette had inveigled him to get involved in this morning’s jaunt. ‘A wise man would have found something else to do,’ he murmured for Ralph’s ears alone.

  ‘But it appears that you are not a wise man, Morgan,’ Ralph smirked.

  Together, they looked at the giggling young women seated behind them before firmly facing forward. Morgan released a long, drawn out sigh. Taking anybody out in his carriage this morning was something he most definitely did not want to do.

  ‘Why have they not gone home?’

  ‘God only knows,’ Morgan hissed. ‘At least I am not accommodating them.’

  ‘Come on, Morgan. Are we going to sit here all day?’ Mariette called.

  Morgan glared at her. ‘One trip through the village and then we are coming back. I don’t have the time for anything else.’

  ‘But you don’t have anything more pressing to do this morning,’ Mariette argued.

  ‘And you know my business, do you?’ Morgan snapped with a glare.

  The occupants of the carriage went quiet.

  Morgan pierced Boris with a dark look. ‘They will be back in an hour at the most. Make sure their carriages are ready.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ Boris murmured before slamming the door to the Barouche and stepping back.

  Morgan flicked the reins and turned the carriage toward the driveway.

  ‘I say, you sound frightfully eager to get rid of us,’ Cuthbert Reynolds called.

  Morgan didn’t answer.

  ‘He is surly but his heart is in the right place,’ the man behind him, Roger Fairmead, announced. The young women opposite giggled and simpered.

  Morgan shook his head and muttered something which suspiciously sounded like an oath before slapping the reins. He cursed when a curricle shot past the carriage before he could guide the horses into the driveway.

  ‘Watch what you are doing!’ he called to the curricle’s driver.

  ‘Arrogant sod,’ Ralph grumbled. ‘That’s Arthur Rigger. The bloody fool is going to kill himself.’

  ‘If he doesn’t kill someone else first,’ Morgan growled.

  Shaking his head, he watched the curricle raced down the driveway at breakneck speed. Rather than turn out onto the road and head out into the countryside, Arthur swung the vehicle in a wide arc and retraced his route, barrelling down the driveway toward Morgan’s Barouche even faster. Delighted squeals of terror and hilarity came from the young woman beside Arthur, who seemed completely oblivious to the danger she was in.

  Morgan dropped the reins he held and jumped down from his carriage. Racing into the driveway, he planted himself firmly in the curricle’s path leaving Arthur no choice but to slow down to a stop.

  ‘What are you doing? You are going to get killed,’ Felicity Hillary cried from the Barouche.

  Morgan didn’t answer or take his hard gaze off Arthur. Before Arthur could ask what was wrong, Morgan stalked up to the man’s horse and grabbed its reins. ‘Do that again and I will damned well walk this horse to the end of my driveway and you won’t come back onto my property. Slow down, you damned fool. This isn’t a race and you aren’t clever.’

  Leaving Arthur staring open mouthed at him, Morgan released the horse and returned to his Barouche. Seconds later, he turned his carriage down the driveway at a considerably more sedate pace. Behind him a stilted silence developed until one of Mariette’s friends, Felicity, found the temerity to ask: ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Just through the village and over to the small town of Skellerton. By the time we get there, luncheon will be served. While we have gone the maids will pack your belongings and have everything ready for your departure,’ Morgan replied without bothering to look at her.

  ‘Oh, but I had thought that everyone might be able to stay another day,’ Mariette offered hopefully.

  ‘No. Certainly not,’ Morgan bit out. He couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘I have business to attend to. The staff are busy clearing up after last night’s frivolities. They don’t have the time to pander to guests. Seeing as we had so many guests last night the staff at the Dowager House fair no better. They are busy, and so am I. I am sure your guests will understand.’

  ‘The invitations they received were for just the ball,’ Ralph argued, aware of the discontented grumblings behind him.

  ‘Indeed, but some do take liberties,’ Morgan replied briskly.

  This, from the Lord of the manor, was more than enough to warn Mariette’s friends that to push to stay any longer would earn his annoyance. Further, they all knew that they wouldn’t be invited to any future balls or social functions if they upset him.

  ‘It’s fine, Mariette. I must be on my way anyway. I have a dinner to attend tomorrow and need to purchase some more ribbons,’ Felicity offered with a smile.

  While the carriage’s occupants engaged in desultory conversation about the various social functions they intended to attend next, Morgan focused on guiding the Barouche out onto the road. Huge black storm clouds rolled overhead, threatening to ruin the day, but Morgan didn’t care. He didn’t care about the guests in his carriage, his sister’s anger, his mother’s annoyance that he had abandoned the ball last night to avoid all marriageable females. In fact, he didn’t care about anything.

  Except Sissy.

  ‘Mother of God. Does he never learn?’ Ralph growled when they turned out onto the road only to have Arthur force his curricle past the narrow gap at the side of the road and race ahead of them.

  Once free of the Barouche’s obstruction, Arthur flicked his horse to go faster and the curricle picked up pace.

  ‘It serves him right if he has an accident in that thing.’

  ‘I wouldn’t ride in the damned thing,’ Cuthbert growled from behind him. ‘The man’s a fool, but you know how he likes to show off.’

  Morgan had lost interest in what Arthur did. ‘I don’t care if the man ends up wrapping the vehicle around a tree, as long as it isn’t any of my trees that he wraps that vehicle around. He can keep going as well. Let’s hope he doesn’t come back.’

  ‘I say, my Lord, are you going to the Henderson’s dinner next week?’ Felicity asked, with eyes that were full of hope.

  Morgan threw her a brief look and mentally cursed when he saw the lively interest in her steady gaze which was far more personal than he was comfortable with.

  ‘No,’ he grunted. ‘I am busy elsewhere.’

  ‘Oh.’ Felicity looked crestfallen.

  Morgan decided to dampen the young woman’s interest once and for all. ‘In fact, I am scaling back my socialising from now on.’

  ‘Oh? Planning to spend a little more time at home, eh?’ Cuthbert teased. ‘You must be getting old.’

  ‘I never thought you were the hearth and home kind of man. Might one assume that a woman has brought about this sudden change of heart in you?’ Roger asked.

  Mariette gasped. ‘Morgan doesn’t-’

  ‘Yes,’ Morgan interrupted honestly. ‘One woman has.’

  ‘Might one enquire as to her name?’ Cuthbert asked after a few moments of heavy silence.

  ‘You might enquire but it won’t get you anywhere,’ Morgan replied firmly.

  ‘But your mother made it clear to me that you were looking for a bride,’ Felicity protested. ‘Did you find one last night?’

  Morgan lifted his brows at the road ahead before throwing her a dour look. ‘My dear, one does not and should not ever find a bride at a ball and declare one’s interest within hours of first meeting her. I am sorry, but my mother isn’t graced with the details of all of my life, you know. Nor is my sister. At one and thirty, I am far beyond needing my mother’s in
put in my life, or anybody else’s for that matter. I am perfectly capable of finding my own bride, thank you very much.’

  Ralph gave him a nudge. Morgan lapsed into silence when he realised just how objectionable his tone was. It was clear he was more than a little annoyed, and the awkward looks shared between the carriage’s passengers confirmed it.

  ‘Are we to meet with her before we leave?’ Felicity pressed.

  ‘No,’ Morgan replied. ‘You will meet her in due course I don’t doubt but not right now.’

  Ralph coughed discretely. Once the carriage’s passengers had resumed conversation, he nudged Morgan, but Morgan was prevented from engaging his friend in conversation by their arrival in the village.

  As they turned into the main street they found Arthur driving swiftly toward them. Pedestrians on either side of the road stopped to stare at him as he swept past them at breakneck speed. Because of Morgan, none of them cried out in protest, but Morgan was aware of the angry glares thrown Arthur’s way.

  Morgan looked up and down the busy main street. ‘Damn,’ he growled when his gaze fell upon an achingly familiar figure: Sissy.

  He saw the large puddle in the road that she was about to walk past at the same time that Arthur barrelled carelessly toward it. Before Morgan could open his mouth to call a warning to her, the racing curricle splashed through the large puddle causing a huge wave of water to cascade over the pedestrians on the pavement. It wasn’t just Sissy who was immediately drenched from head to toe, several other locals were as well.

  For a moment, everyone stopped as they absorbed the shock of what had just happened – except Arthur.

  ‘Arthur, stop that curricle at once,’ Morgan bellowed. He stood up and waved his arms at Arthur to capture the man’s attention.

  Dutifully, Arthur slowed the curricle down but was already racing past. He had to continue to the end of the road and turn around. Further down the street, people were shaking water off their clothing and throwing angry comments and looks at the carriages.

  ‘What in the Hell do you think you are doing?’ Morgan snapped when Arthur reached them. ‘Do you realise what you have just done?’

  Morgan looked at Sissy, who was one of the worst affected given how close she had been to the puddle. Even from several feet away he could see that her dress was ruined and she had been soaked from head to foot.

  ‘God, you utter fool,’ Morgan hissed. ‘You utter bastard.’

  Arthur threw a dismissive look over his shoulder at Sissy and shrugged. ‘She will dry. She is hardly dressed in the height of fashion, is she? I doubt that dress has seen a seamstress for many a good year.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean she isn’t worthy of your consideration. She is a woman; a woman who is now soaking wet because of your carelessness,’ Morgan growled.

  ‘She should learn to keep out of the way then,’ Arthur snapped with an angry glare. ‘Why should I stop driving down the road just because she might get her toes wet? She is a local, Morgan. She is used to getting wet or she wouldn’t be out on a day like this, would she?’

  Morgan stared at the fop he had once considered a friend, if only through Mariette. He knew that Arthur was just replicating the attitude many of his friends and acquaintances had toward people who weren’t as wealthy or connected but it was horrible to witness.

  ‘What do you want me to do, Morgan, go and offer to pay for her dress? I only have a shilling on me. That would buy someone like her half a dozen dresses,’ Arthur scoffed.

  Morgan stared hard at Arthur. Thankfully, the Heavens opened and prevented him from replying. If he said what he wanted to say he knew that he would offend more people than Arthur had. Wisely, Morgan bit his lip but mentally made a promise to himself that he would make sure that Arthur was never invited to any more social functions should he ever have any. Disgusted, Morgan turned the Barouche around. ‘Go home, Arthur, to your home. Don’t return to my property. You are no longer welcome there,’ Morgan growled. ‘Your attitude is a disgrace. Grow up, preferably before you kill someone.’

  When he turned to look for Sissy it was to find she was already on her way home. He could see that she was upset. Rather than waste any more time with Arthur, Morgan jumped down from the Barouche and raced down the street to talk to her before she could disappear.

  ‘I am sorry, Sissy,’ he began only to slam to a halt when he reached her.

  His mouth fell open when he got a good look at her. The words he had intended to say vanished. His stunned mind struggled to focus on anything more than what he was witnessing. Sissy’s dress had indeed been soaked. The once cream dress, liberally adorned with tiny rosebuds and capped sleeves, was now liberally covered with large wet, brown stains. That wasn’t what shocked Morgan. It was the way the near transparent material clung lovingly to every dip and curve of her body leaving nothing to his imagination. Glancing about wildly, Morgan tried to think of what he could do. Stepping closer to protect her from wandering eyes, Morgan shook out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

  ‘No. I am fine, thank you,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘The fine material will be ruined.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Morgan argued. ‘Take it.’

  He tugged it around her shoulders and held the edges together for her when she refused to take it off him. He glared over his shoulder at the occupants of his Barouche but he knew there was no room for her even if he did offer to take her home.

  ‘Come on, I will escort you home,’ he announced grimly.

  Sissy looked from Morgan to the pretty women in his carriage and felt her heart sink. She truly did feel unworthy of even being in his presence, and that was before the locals stood gawping at the spectacle they created in the middle of the street.

  ‘I have to go,’ Sissy whispered, stepping away from him.

  ‘I am not going to abandon you here,’ Morgan argued.

  Sissy slid another look at the carriage. ‘Your friends are waiting.’

  To her annoyance, the driver of the curricle was grinning unrepentantly at her, as if he found what he had done highly amusing. Sniffing miserably, Sissy held her clammy skirt away from her legs.

  ‘I take it that the oaf driving that thing is one of your friends, is he?’ she asked coldly.

  ‘No. Yes. He is one of Mariette’s friends,’ Morgan replied.

  Sissy struggled not to cry. She lifted her hand to take the edges of the jacket off him not least because having him touch her, even through the folds of his jacket, created emotions that made her want to cry even harder.

  ‘I need to go,’ Sissy whispered.

  ‘Take the jacket,’ Morgan urged.

  To anybody who was looking at them, Morgan was holding the edges of the jacket together for her in the most gentlemanly of ways. Only Sissy was aware of their fingers touching, and the fission of awareness that jolted to life between them. She couldn’t move her hands either, or the folds of the jacket would open and fall off her shoulders. It was several sizes too big for her but thankfully the folds, and the residual warmth from his body, kept her from getting too cold.

  ‘You need to get out of those wet clothes,’ Morgan murmured, his voice husky with desire.

  Sissy sniffed. ‘Thank you. I will see that the jacket is returned to you when it has been dried out and cleaned.’

  ‘Sissy,’ Morgan groaned. He couldn’t let her walk down the street where anybody could see what God had graced her with.

  She will have every eligible bachelor within a ten-mile radius sniffing at her doorstep within the hour if they see her like that.

  ‘Let me escort you,’ Morgan pleaded.

  ‘I can manage,’ Sissy snapped impatiently. ‘I would have been able to go on my way if it wasn’t for your insufferably arrogant friend.’

  Morgan, taken aback by her temper, stared at her. It was the first time he had seen her eyes flash, and her cheeks turn pink with temper. With her hair drooping soggily about her shoulders, and rain trickling off her cheeks, she looked wild; r
eady to lash out at anybody who happened to annoy her.

  God, she is stunning.

  Morgan instinctively stepped closer. His eyes fell to her lips. The world around them, the busy street, the curious pedestrians, even the carriages waiting down the street, all faded into the background. Sissy became his world.

  ‘Morgan?’

  Morgan jerked away just as he was about to lean down to kiss her. He mentally cursed and ran a frustrated hand down his face. There was little he could do about his annoyance when he turned to glare at the woman who had approached them without either he or Sissy hearing her.

  Sissy tried to keep her face impassive when she heard that feminine voice. She turned to look at its owner and mentally groaned when she saw the perfectly coiffed young woman standing beside her. She truly was beautiful. Side by side they couldn’t have been more opposite, and that glaringly obvious difference hurt Sissy more than anything.

  I must salvage what I can of my pride while I find a way to get them both to leave me alone.

  ‘I have to go,’ she offered with a faint smile before whirling around and scurrying down the street. It was only when she had reached the kerb that she realised she lived in the opposite direction, but to turn around meant she had to pass the occupants of both carriages.

  And Morgan with that beautiful young woman.

  She instinctively threw them a quick look and caught sight of the woman’s proprietary hand on Morgan’s arm and the look of adoration on her gaze as she looked up at him. Morgan didn’t seem to mind her possessive behaviour. He was looking down at her and murmuring something that made the young woman smile. That only added to the growing ache in the middle of Sissy’s heart. Determinedly shaking off the emotions that clouded her thoughts, Sissy promptly turned her back and left the area.