A broad grin split his face and he wanted to yell for the sheer joy of it. Of course she loved him. How could she not? Granted, they clashed at every turn, but when they meshed it was magnificent. He had never been so alive and vibrant in his life as when he was with her. Surely her passionate responses, not just while lovemaking but in every other encounter as well, indicated she had the same reactions to him.
She loved him!
He continued to dress, grinning like an ass, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered but that one unbelievable fact. Certainly Maggie was angry with him now, but they could resolve their differences. He truly believed love could indeed conquer all. The admission surprised him. His soul had far more romance in it than even he had ever suspected.
He would allow Maggie her little jaunt in the park with Lindley. After all, he had nothing to fear.
She was his, body and soul.
She loved him.
He cast a quick glance around the library and noticed her odd undergarments lying halfway beneath the desk. In one deft movement, he swept them up and discreetly stuffed them under his jacket. With a jaunty step, he swaggered out of the library, through the foyer, and up the stairs. A voice inside warned him to wipe that silly grin off his face before the servants noticed but right now Adam didn't care if a houseful of hirelings or the entire world knew.
Miss Margaret Melissa Masterson loved him, and at this moment in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and eighteen, that made him the happiest man on the face of the earth.
***
Maggie was miserable.
She lay curled in a ball on her bed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Disgusted, she swiped at them. She'd cried more here than she had in her entire adult life. What was the matter with her anyway? She wasn't usually such a wimp.
Okay, so she'd been flung through time for some unknown reason. So she ended up in an era she knew practically nothing about and had to watch every word she said. So she had to lie about who she really was and where she came from. And then to top it off, she went and fell in love with a nineteenth-century sexist. Was that any reason to cry?
Damn straight.
This was turning out to be a pretty crummy vacation after all. It was April twenty-first, her ninth day here. If her theory was correct, and she'd leave on the twelfth of May she had twenty-one days left. Three full weeks to deal with Adam or avoid him. Three long weeks to continue this weird charade. Three brief weeks to get over loving a man who saw her only as a possession and a problem.
She sniffed and wiped her nose impatiently with the back of her hand. Damn! When did they invent Kleenex anyway? Wallowing in self—pity would get her nowhere fast. There was nothing she could do about being here and nothing she could do about Adam.
Her unhappiness was as much her fault as his. He was only interested in getting her into bed, or in this case, on the floor. The session with Shakespeare told her that. She had no one to blame but herself for reading too much into making love this morning. The facts were there. She had to face them and deal with them. Period.
She tried to attribute her tears to exhaustion. The predawn ride and the session in the library had taken their toll. What she really needed now was sleep. Later she'd consider how to survive the upcoming few weeks. For the moment she'd escape her problems in blissful slumber. After all, in a few hours she had a date. One she'd very likely paid a big price for.
And there was no way in hell she was going to miss it.
Chapter Thirteen
A bouquet of wilted posies had more life than Maggie, at least by the looks of her. She definitely drooped.
Lydia sighed with exasperation and eyed Maggie trooping languidly down the stairs. She did not appear at all like someone about to go off for a drive with an eager suitor. Lydia narrowed her eyes in speculation. What happened after she left the library? Did Maggie and Adam do battle? And if they did, who won? By the looks of her, not Maggie.
Oh, she was as pretty as ever. Her deep blue dress set off her reddish hair nicely, the style complementing her figure. But in an unguarded moment Lydia caught a glimpse of sheer misery in Maggie's eyes.
Lydia greeted her at the door to the green-and-gold salon with a barrage of questions. “What on earth happened this morning? What did Adam say?" Lydia's brow arched in inquiry. "What did you do?"
"Nothing." Maggie walked to a settee and settled herself gracefully. “Absolutely nothing."
Lydia’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. "He didn't lecture you? He didn't renew his threat to send us off to the country? He didn't do anything?"
“Nothing worth mentioning." Maggie calmly pulled on a pair of gloves. ‘'1 don't want to talk about Adam anymore."
"But surely he—"
“No more." Maggie's sharp tone and firm, direct look took Lydia by surprise. She sank into a chair, nodding in stunned resignation.
"Thank you." Maggie's voice softened. She picked up her hat and tied it over her hair. "Is Edward here yet?"
"I don't believe so." Lydia wondered at Maggie's strange behavior. What had happened in the library? What on earth did Adam do to her? And why did she refuse to discuss it?
“Lady Lydia, Miss Masterson." Wilson interrupted her musings. "Lord Lindley has arrived." The butler stepped aside to allow Lord Lindley to enter the room.
He looked at Maggie and his eyes lit up. Maggie at once became gracious and charming, any problems either forgotten or at least well hidden. He was at Maggie's side in an instant, bowing over her hand. She actually seemed to encourage him. Considering her understandable reluctance to go in the first place, it was all very odd.
“Lydia, you remember Lord Lindley?" Maggie turned to her friend.
"Of course. How are you?" Lydia extended her hand. She, too, could be gracious and charming when the need arose.
"Lady Lydia." Lindley's lips brushed her hand. His surprised gaze met hers. "You are not driving today? Would you care to accompany us?"
"How very kind of you to ask, but I have other matters to attend to." She tilted her head and glanced up at him in a practiced pose. "Will we see you tomorrow at Lord and Lady Ainsworth's soiree?"
"It's highly probable." His eyes twinkled at her, then searched out Maggie. "If you and your cousin will be there, then surely I will be in attendance as well."
"I see," Lydia murmured and withdrew her hand.
“Miss Masterson, shall we?" Lindley offered Maggie his arm and she accepted.
"See you later, Lydia," Maggie tossed over her shoulder. She and Lindley walked through the foyer and Lydia listened to her light banter and Lindley's appreciative chuckle.
Lydia folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the salon doorway, eyeing the departing couple. It was not a proper pose for a young woman but Lydia's thoughts were not confined to those of a proper young woman anyway.
Lindley was charming and handsome, all any woman could ask for. Lydia's standards were high and discriminating, and even she could see his undeniable appeal. If Adam didn't take care he would lose Maggie. And it would serve him right.
Annoyed, Lydia shook her head. She no longer understood either her brother or Maggie. For two people so obviously attracted to each other, they seemed to be doing all they could to make each other miserable. It was Adam's fault, no doubt. Her lips compressed in a firm line. This situation was ridiculous and it was past time she took matters in hand. Connor would help. Connor would do anything for her.
After all, they were better than lovers.
They were friends.
It was no longer a question of using Maggie to help avoid marriage. Now it was a matter of her brother's happiness. The more he and Maggie raged at each other, the more it convinced Lydia that his happiness did indeed lie with her. She had not seen Adam alive in years. Now if she could just get through to him. Where was he anyway?
"Adam," she called imperiously and headed for the library. She wanted to know what happened last night and she wanted to know immediately. More important, she wante
d to know what he planned to do about it. If she were clever, maybe she could get him to admit he saw Maggie as more than just an intrusion on his well—ordered life. And if Lydia's plans worked out, she would be.
***
Maggie glanced around curiously from the rather impressive height of Lord Lindley's carriage. He drove with a natural ease. Growing confident in his skill and ability with the reins, she relaxed her death grip on the seat beneath her. She still preferred a nice Mustang convertible, but right here and now, an open—topped carriage was obviously the next best thing.
“Miss Masterson," Lindley said, "I am extremely pleased you decided to join me. I feared when I arrived you would have begged off."
"Please call me Maggie. Miss Masterson is way too formal." She gave him an encouraging smile and noted with satisfaction the light in his eyes. "Why did you think I wouldn't show up?"
He shrugged. "Ridgewood has seemed extremely protective and I thought perhaps he might forbid you to accompany me."
"Who?" Puzzled, Maggie stared; then understanding dawned. "Oh, you mean Coleridge. I never will get used to how everyone uses titles here instead of names. I call him Coleridge." She narrowed her eyes. "And he has nothing to say about what I do or do not do.” A cold note sounded in her voice. "I'm not his responsibility, and I don't have to ask his permission to go for a ride in the park or anything else."
"But he is your only male relation here." Lindley’s face expressed his surprise. "As head of your family, it is only natural he make decisions regarding your activities. You are under his protection."
"That's not how it’s done in my ti—” Maggie caught herself "—in my country. And I’m not about to put up with that attitude here." She looked straight in his eyes. "Lord Lindley—"
"Edward,” he said.
"Edward. I'm used to having a great deal of freedom and to making my own decisions about every aspect of my life. Up to and including who I dance with and who I ride in the park with. If Adam Coleridge doesn't like it, that's his problem. Do I make myself clear?"
He stared at her with obvious admiration. "Perfectly."
She threw him an impish grin. "I gather women in England aren't as outspoken as I am?"
His smile warmed his eyes. "I was going to use the words free—spirited and independent." His attention turned briefly to a passing carriage and he nodded a quick greeting. "I daresay Ridgewood doesn't seem like the type of man to take your attitudes in stride," he said casually. "I don't know him well, but he has always struck me as a man in control of his life. He seems very precise and demanding, even cold and somewhat aloof."
Maggie mulled over his words and chose her response carefully. She owed a certain amount of loyalty to Adam despite their problems. "When I first arrived, that's exactly how he struck me. But to be honest, he's been very kind, thoughtful, and generous. He's shown me a great deal of hospitality. He's made me feel at home as much as possible and I appreciate it."
Edward frowned, obviously puzzled. “But you are family."
She laughed lightly. "Distant, very distant. And I showed up without any advance warning. So"—she shrugged—"I'm really lucky he welcomed me as warmly as he has.
"Now, I'm sure there are far more interesting things to talk about than Adam Coleridge." She aimed her most provocative smile at him. "Tell me what I should see in this fascinating city of yours while I'm here." Maggie forced a look of rapt attention to her face and tried to focus on Edward's conversation, but thoughts of Adam kept creeping into her mind. Firmly she pushed him away, determined to give Edward her complete attention. He really was extremely nice and quite handsome as well as charming company. The only thing wrong was that he wasn't the man she longed for.
He wasn't Adam.
***
The scene looked much the same as at the first ball Maggie attended. This ballroom glittered as brilliantly. The dancers sweeping over the floor were as skilled. The women were as beautifully attired, the men as impeccably dressed. But it all seemed somehow tarnished. Maybe she was growing immune to the spectacle that once captured her imagination.
At the last ball she'd entered on Adam's arm, filled with the excitement of his presence and anticipation of the evening to come. Tonight she forced herself simply to be here.
She squared her shoulders and, taking a deep breath, surveyed the room spread before her. Yesterday’s drive with Edward bolstered her confidence. Even without Adam she could probably hold her own. Her appearance in the deeply low-cut gown added an extra measure of courage.
After a night of little sleep interrupted by turbulent dreams, she decided once again to make the best of her stay here. With Lydia's encouragement, this party seemed like the most appropriate place to start.
Maggie hadn’t seen Adam since she stalked out of the library yesterday morning. When she returned from her drive with Edward, Lydia told her Adam had been called away unexpectedly to one of the estates and wouldn't return home until tomorrow morning.
If he got bent out of shape over a simple carriage ride, how much more irritated would he be to discover she was not only attending this soiree, but planned to waltz with anyone and everyone who asked? He didn’t have the right to run her life or issue orders. The sooner he figured it out, the better.
Maggie's anger over his tyrannical attitude steadily gained ground on her heartache. She was determined to ignore the knot in her chest and the lump in her throat and have a good time. No . . . make that a great time.
"I have been counting the moments until your arrival.” A smiling Edward stood at her elbow with an offering of champagne in his hand. His sky-blue eyes sparkled in his handsome face and her spirits lifted.
"Why, thank you. This"—she accepted the champagne and lifted the glass in a mock salute—"and you are exactly what I need right now."
"Ah, Maggie." He placed his hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. "I fear you shall break my heart before this evening is over."
His declaration threw her for a moment. He wasn't serious, was he? Sure, Edward could help her get over Adam, but she had no desire to hurt him. A twinkle danced in his eyes and she laughed in relief.
“Edward, you’re a terrific actor."
"Am 1?" He caught her gloved hand with his, and swiftly lifted it to his mouth. Brushing his lips across the back, he gazed deeply into her eyes. "Are you certain of that?"
She let a smile linger on her lips and glanced at him in her most flirtatious manner. As long as her heart wasn't involved, she could play this game of verbal fencing. Play it and win.
“Where I'm from, there's an old saying: Never say never. Frankly, here I'm certain of nothing, but it's a risk I'm willing to take." She tossed her head back and caught his gaze with hers. "Are you?”
His eyebrows lifted in an expression of mild surprise and appreciation. “You are definitely an original. I wonder, are your actions as intriguing as your manner?"
"Edward." She laughed. "That's for me to know and you to find out."
A startled expression flashed across his face at the unfamiliar phrase and he stared at her curiously. She sipped her champagne and returned his gaze over the edge of her glass with her best innocent air. Abruptly he grinned.
“What a delightful proposition." He nodded toward the dance floor. “They are playing a waltz. I believe this is our dance."
"You bet." She downed the last of her drink and handed the empty glass to a passing waiter. Maggie offered Edward her hand. “I'm all yours."
He led her to the floor. "Not yet, my dear," he murmured softly under his breath. "Not yet."
Her startled gaze flew to his and she noted a fair amount of satisfaction on his face. Her flirting hadn't gone too far, had it? That was silly. She brushed the thought away. This was harmless party talk. It meant nothing and Edward wouldn't take it seriously. Besides, she wouldn't be here long enough to really break any hearts.
Flying across the floor in Edward's arms, losing herself in the sensation of the dance, she agreed with
Lydia. Tonight was exactly what she needed. There was nothing like a good party and an interesting man to heal a broken heart.
***
Maggie danced off with Edward, and Lydia nodded with approval. That should keep her guest occupied for a while. Now if she could just find Connor. . .
She scanned the crowded ballroom. Lydia tapped her foot impatiently. She had sent him a note requesting he meet her here. It would be just like Connor to ignore her summons, to go blithely about his business at the very moment she needed him most. If she wasn't quite certain he was the only one who would consider helping her, she would simply find someone else. But there was no one in the world she trusted as completely as she did Connor. Even though he was never as prompt as she wished.
“Have you given up on me yet?" Busy searching one side of the ballroom Lydia didn't notice his approach from the other direction. Surprised, she found him standing right next to her.
"Well, it's past time you put in an appearance," she snapped. "Where on earth have you been?"
Connor raised an eyebrow condescendingly. "Lydia, my love. Do not chastise me if you want to secure my help. Now apologize."
She threw him a withering glare. "Fine. I apologize."
He lifted her chin with one bronzed finger and smiled into her eyes. "Say it like you truly mean it, Lydia."
She glared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. "I give up, you win." She gave him an apologetic smile. "I am sorry, but I am counting on your help. And I must admit, I am a bit nervous about pulling it all off."
"Pulling what off?" His brows drew together in a cautious frown. He had been involved in Lydia's escapades before, but it had been years since the last fiasco. "What devilish plot have you concocted this time?"
“It's really not all that devilish," she said defensively. "And it's for a very good purpose. Actually"—she grinned with pride—"it's extremely clever."
"Lydia." Connor groaned. "Through our entire lives, from the time we were children together, whenever you have gotten that look in your eye, inevitably you escaped with a mild reprimand and I was flogged. Aren't we too old for your schemes?"
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