His calculated actions hurt.
Really hurt.
Almost from their first meeting, Adam had given her a feeling of safety and protection in this strange new world. Now he'd shattered her trust.
Painful as that was, it was insignificant compared to knowing he didn't think any differently of her than he did any other woman. She was merely one of a crowd of what? Dozens? Hundreds? She didn't begrudge him his past any more than hers should make a difference to him.
But that magical night in the library had an impact on her she would never get over, and never forget. The immortal words of Shakespeare, the warm and intimate setting, the primeval, magnetic pull of the man all made an indelible mark on her soul she could never erase.
It all made her love him.
Maggie groaned and threw herself backward on the bed. That was it, wasn't it? Even as she had debated the pros and cons of a relationship with him, it was already too late. She'd been fooling herself all along. He'd claimed her in the library that night as surely as if he had actually taken her to his bed.
And she would never be the same.
In love with a man there could be no possible future with. In a few weeks he would be as remote as if on another planet. They were separated by nearly two hundred years, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
A tear trickled down her cheek. Maggie wasn't much for tears and disliked women who gave in to their emotions, but she couldn't seem to stop herself and didn't seem to care. Tears rolled down her face and she lay curled up on the bed.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted her sister.
And more than anything, she wanted Adam.
***
All things considered, it was best to avoid Adam altogether. The action was almost too easy and Maggie wondered if he wasn't avoiding her as well. A subtle quizzing of Lydia confirmed her suspicions, more or less. Even though, with Lydia, Maggie was never quite sure if she received a straight answer or simply Lydia's oddly convoluted, strangely logical way of interpreting the world. Lydia said her brother typically occupied his days with family business, or at a boxing saloon, or involved with his stables. In the evening, if he wasn't at home, he occasionally served as her escort but more often spent time at his club. In short, Lydia had no idea where he was but implied he appeared far busier than usual and definitely was nowhere to be seen.
Several times Maggie hovered on the verge of going to the library. She told herself she needed something to read, but in reality she hoped to run into Adam. Accidentally, of course. Drawn as irresistibly as a moth to a flame, and just as dangerously, she was forced to call upon every inch of willpower she possessed to stay away.
Staying away completely seemed the best course. If she came face-to-face with Adam her resolve would be swept away in a tumultuous wave of passion and desire. Sex was one thing, but love was another matter altogether. The sooner Maggie got over Adam, the better. She still had a few weeks left here and, with luck, would be over this love business before she returned to the future. Maybe the pain would be gone by then, too.
She already missed him, already yearned for a glimpse of his face, the touch of his hands, the caress of his lips. If she didn't get over it now, how much worse would it be when she went back home?
Would she look for his face on every street? Look for a resemblance in every passing stranger, wondering if this was a great great grandchild? Would she spend long hours in libraries, trying to find out what became of him, trying to discover what woman he eventually chose to spend his life with? Play Juliet to his Romeo? Would she want to know when he died? If his life was happy without her?
She knew what he meant to her, but did she mean anything to him? Would he even remember her as the years went by? Would a month spent with a crazy, unconventional woman from a future too far away to even imagine simply fade into an amusing bedtime story for his children and grandchildren? Would there come a time when the stories became more real than the memories? When even he began to doubt that someday men would fly and lifelike pictures would be captured on paper and a woman with volatile green eyes and hair more red than brown had briefly touched his life? And would it all happen long before she'd taken her first breath?
Painful, depressing thoughts and images crowded Maggie's mind, increasing her restlessness. Inactivity only heightened her heartache, and an almost frenetic, defensive energy gripped her. She had to keep moving.
Lydia helped, setting an impressive pace. She and Maggie made calls during the afternoon. Their first stop, much to Maggie's surprise, was Lady Wentworth's.
“Lydia, I thought you didn't like her?"
"Oh, I don't. But she is such a horrible gossip that if I don't put in an appearance every now and again, I feel certain I would be her next target. Besides," Lydia whispered behind the starched back of the butler showing them in, "I always learn such fascinating things."
The servant ushered the women to a large salon and it was all Maggie could do to keep from gasping out loud. She'd never seen anything like this room in her life, never imagined it in her wildest dreams. It was an oriental theme gone berserk. The wallpaper glowed a vivid red. Black lacquered chests fought for dominance with end tables and chairs carved to resemble bamboo.
The dragons nearly took Maggie's breath away. Carved dragons, gilded dragons, dragons as the arms of chairs, as the bases of tables, on the walls, on the carpets, they seemed to serve every conceivable purpose and cover every available space. It was a Chinese nightmare.
"Lydia." Maggie grabbed her arm, needing support from the almost physical effect of the overwhelming chamber. "What is this?"
Lydia hissed. "It's the first stare in furnishings. Extremely fashionable. Although my own personal taste runs to something less likely to breathe fire."
Maggie choked back a laugh. A few flames in this room might be an improvement. She pulled herself together in time to join Lydia in greeting Lady Wentworth's daughters and the grand dame herself. In this setting the overbearing matron looked positively subdued compared with the other dragons competing for attention. Again, Maggie nearly lost it but a sharp glance from Lydia helped her smother a threatening giggle. Maggie spotted a particularly obnoxious knickknack and fought to keep her expression serene, hoping she could hide the amazement and amusement the room triggered.
Not until then did Maggie notice other visitors. They didn't exactly blend in: it was just difficult to sort out people from mythical beasts. Lydia turned to greet someone emerging from the reptilian menagerie.
"Quite amazing, is it not?" a voice asked from behind Maggie’s shoulder.
"What?" She turned to find Lord Lindley and smiled in recognition. "Oh, hello. What's amazing?"
His blue eyes sparkled. "Why, the room, of course. Surely it has not escaped your notice?"
"I don't see how it possibly could," she said wryly. “I don't mean to be rude. I'm not wild about this particular style."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Tactful as well as beautiful. I must say America is producing impressive representatives these days."
"Thank you." She suppressed an almost instinctive urge to drop a curtsy. This time period was definitely getting to her. “And thank you for the flowers. They were lovely."
"I thought yellow would be appropriate with your hair and eyes. Although now that I see you again I must say even roses don't do you justice."
His frankly admiring gaze threw her. She wasn't used to elaborate compliments, but after a moment, embarrassment turned to gratification and surprise. She liked this kind of treatment far more than the offhand comments offered back home.
"Well, thank you again. Your words are every bit as extravagant as your flowers."
He grinned" in obvious appreciation. "I shall have to remember American women are not as retiring as our English ladies.”
She laughed, warming to the verbal repartee. "Now that is a compliment and something I, for one, am proud of."
"Now then, when do you t
hink we could have that dance?"
"Dance?" She laughed self-consciously. "I hate to admit this, but I really don't dance. I waltz a little but that's about it.”
"A waltz, then." His eager expression turned to a considering frown. "But will Coleridge allow it? He seemed rather protective as your only relation here."
At Adam's name Maggie bristled. "Relation or not, he doesn't have much to say about it." Impulsively she added, "I would love to dance with you, but Lydia is planning our social activities, so I have no idea when we might have that chance." She gave him a regretful smile.
"I see. In that case would you do me the honor of accompanying me for a drive in the park? Tomorrow perhaps?"
A dance was one thing. Being alone in a carriage with this guy, no matter how cute or how nice, was something else altogether.
"Oh, I don't think so. Thanks."
"The day after then?”
His persistence flattered her but still she hesitated. It didn't seem like a very smart idea. Lydia's attention turned back to Maggie at that moment and she caught the end of Lord Lindley's request.
"Oh do go, Maggie. It will do you good."
"Yes, Maggie," he echoed. His eyes sparkled and he brought her hand to his lips. "It will do you good."
"I give up." She laughed. What the hell. She'd have to pay attention and think before every single word but how hard could that be anyway? "I'd be delighted to ride with you on the day after tomorrow. Okay?"
His eyes narrowed and his brow creased in a perplexed frown. Maggie sighed. She really had to watch her mouth. "I mean, if that's all right with you?"
His expression cleared and he smiled down at her. “Until then." With a slight bow he turned away.
Lydia and Maggie made their good-byes and headed for their next visit.
Aside from an occasional slip of the tongue, Maggie adapted quickly to the social rules of these brief visits. It was pretty basic. Typically, Lydia and Maggie would not be the only guests. If no men were present, the women talked about fashion, and after Maggie's session with the dressmaker she could generally wing that. Since women were, in any place or time, still women, the topic typically turned to men. Who was available? Who was actively seeking a wife? Who was interested in whom?
Surprised, Maggie noticed how often a man's attractiveness seemed measured in the height of his title and the depth of his wallet. Virtually every eligible man discussed faced a critical analysis on the basis of those questions. What was his annual income? How many country places did he own? If not titled now, was he in line for one? And who would have to die for him to get it? It all seemed very cavalier and downright greedy in Maggie's eyes.
Maggie also noted that whenever Adam's name came up, speculative looks were sent her way. She ignored them but questioned Lydia in the carriage between visits.
"Adam is extremely eligible," Lydia said patiently. "He is two and thirty years now and it is past time for him to choose a wife and start a nursery."
"Start a nursery?" Confused, Maggie's eyes widened. "What do you mean? He's going to be a florist or grow trees or something?" The women exchanged puzzled looks, neither quite comprehending what the other attempted to say.
"Maggie, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Understanding broke on Lydia's face and she laughed. "Not that kind of nursery. A nursery for children."
"You mean he'd get married just to have children?"
"Not just children. An heir, a boy. Only boys can inherit a title and much property is entailed."
"I don't understand."
“I'm not sure I thoroughly understand it myself but entailed property goes along with the title and if there is no male heir, the title and the property goes back to the Crown." Lydia shrugged. "That's why it is imperative for Adam and others in his position to marry, have a son, and ensure the succession. It's his responsibility to his family."
"So . . . why hasn't he?" Maggie's words were slow and measured.
"I suspect for the same reason I haven't. He has never found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with."
Lydia sighed. “I believe my dear brother, for all his brisk, efficient ways and precise, controlled life is a romantic somewhere deep inside. Our parents’ marriage was a love match. I was very young when Mama died but Adam was twelve. And I think that influenced him greatly."
She stared moodily at the passing scenery. "I think he wants what our parents had, as do I."
"I see," Maggie said quietly, and the two women sat silent for a few moments, each thinking her own thoughts.
Lydia abruptly returned to the subject. "You are not the only one asking about Adam's marital prospects these days. There is some talk that Adam has finally settled on a match."
"Oh, how nice.” Maggie's words echoed hollowly. She struggled to suppress an almost physical pain.
Lydia glanced at her sharply. "The talk, my dear, is centered around you."
"What?" Maggie bolted upright in the carriage.
"Naturally." Lydia ticked off points on her gloved fingers. “There was the incident in the park, when everyone noticed how Adam held you far more firmly than necessary as he carried you. Then there was the ball. The way the two of you waltzed as if you were meant for each other. And, of course, neither of you danced with anyone else."
Lydia leaned back in the carriage seat and pinned Maggie with a direct look. "The latest on-dit is that you are here from America for the sole purpose of marrying Adam."
Stunned, for once Maggie had absolutely nothing to say. She simply stared at Lydia and wondered if Adam had heard the gossip. And if he had, what did he think? Did he care?
“Maggie, don't be so surprised. I could have told you this would happen. Although it really didn't occur to me until it was too late." She smiled sympathetically. "It doesn't signify. When you leave we shall simply say you went home to America. It will be the subject of talk for a few days; then something else will come along and it will be forgotten. And with you gone, there will be dozens of willing girls ready and eager to take your place."
"Oh, yeah, right," Maggie said quietly. A lump in her throat burned at the thought of someone taking her place with Adam. A place, she told herself firmly, she had already relinquished and had no claim to anyway. The reminder didn't help. Maggie fell silent, her stare fastened unseeingly on the world passing by the carriage.
Lydia observed her critically. Maggie obviously cared for Adam. Why else would she try so hard to avoid him? Lydia noted that Maggie's preference for her company had an almost compulsive air about it. Maggie and Adam might well be the two most stubborn people she had ever seen.
Lydia drew a deep breath. The plans formulating in her head the past few days were taking a definite shape, and none too soon. Every time Adam grew cross with Maggie, he'd take it out on her and bring up that nasty marriage business. No closer to selecting a husband now than when he first issued his threat and more resolved than ever not to bend to his ultimatum, she had to get his attention back on Maggie. In the meantime, Lord Lindley could possibly be a great help.
Lydia smiled to herself. A dose of jealousy might be just the tonic her dear brother deserved.
***
That evening, Lydia dragged Maggie to some type of recital in a mansion even more lavish than the Coleridges’. An easy function to get through; Maggie simply appeared as if she listened to the frequently off-key soprano, apparently the daughter of the house. Again, she and Lydia were the subject of attention for numerous young men, and again she found flirting to be timeless as well as easy. She could handle it as long as she displayed more bosom than brains and no one asked specific questions about her background. Those that came up, she and Lydia deflected lightly.
The musical interludes, such as they were, provided Maggie with breathing space. Gratefully she realized that was why Lydia accepted this invitation. Would Adam be here as well? Periodically she scanned the packed room, but she never saw him and berated herself when relief that she did not h
ave to face him battled with disappointment at his absence.
Edward Lindley joined Maggie and Lydia briefly. Maggie actually enjoyed the comfortable conversation and wondered if there might be the makings of a friendship here. She'd always had good male friends. Maybe that was why she'd never fallen seriously in love. God knew she could use all the friends she could get now. Friendship with Lindley was a pleasant thought, but reluctantly she had to face reality. The rules and structure of Regency England probably didn't allow for platonic friendship.
***
Adam came late and stayed only a few moments. He wanted to force Maggie to talk to him, make her listen to what he had to say. From the back of the room, he stared at her, watching her laugh and chat with. . . who was that? Edward Lindley? Adam didn't know the man but immediately disliked him intensely. He turned abruptly and walked out. It was a first. Adam had never backed down from a fight in his life.
Did he leave because he had too much pride? After all, he had done nothing that truly warranted this extreme reaction from her, so why should he be the one to apologize?
Or did he have too little courage?
What if he told her of his feelings? How important she had become to him and how very much he missed her. And what if after he told her all that, what if she simply didn't care? Did he have enough courage to face that?
***
The next day took on the same characteristics as the day before. Boredom stalked Maggie. All these people ever seemed to do was shop and gossip and party.
"Isn't there anything else here?" Maggie complained to Lydia. They'd put in a full day of calls and now were taking a leisurely carriage ride in the park.
It filled the time but did nothing to cure Maggie's continued restlessness. Lydia suggested a drive and, at this point, Maggie was game for anything. Even so, it surprised her when Lydia took the reins herself.
"I didn't know you were allowed to drive." Maggie stared with surprise and admiration.
Yesterday and Forever Page 14