by Jaimey Grant
Adam tensed his hands on her shoulders. Her black eyes met his with a look of such bewildered sadness that he was taken aback.
“You do believe that. You think I destroyed you.” It was not a question. Adam felt hurt that she would blame him. If she had simply said something, he never would have taken her on.
“Please don’t change the subject,” she said in an attempt to draw his attention away from her. “I want to know what you plan to do with that poor girl.”
“And I want to know why you accepted my offer of protection when it wasn’t what you wanted,” he countered softly. His eyes held an implacable look of determination. “Who do you think is going to get their way?”
Raven found herself weakening under the onslaught of tenderness she saw in his eyes. She was not naïve enough to believe he was in love with her. She knew it was nothing more than a pleasurable arrangement for him to keep her. She even knew he liked her most of the time. But she never considered he might actually care for her as anything more than a release for pent-up emotions.
Raven squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the tears that threatened.
Adam regarded his mistress steadily. He reached out and wiped away a tear that escaped her tightly closed eyes. He wondered if she was in love with him.
He knew he wasn’t in love with her. He realized his world would be just as painful and barely tolerable with or without her in it. But he did care about her. He imagined love went much deeper than mere caring.
If she were to tell him right this moment that she had found somebody new, he would let her go with nothing more than a thought as to if the man would treat her as she deserved. If so, he would be happy to let her go. It was a strange realization to have about the woman one was holding so closely in one’s arms at the very moment the thought occurred.
Her eyes opened and her pain was visible and deeply touching. Why had he ever agreed to take her on? he wondered again. He had known beforehand that she was innocent. All he’d had to do was tell her he had no dealings with virgins.
You didn’t believe her, a voice taunted him.
Of course, he hadn’t believed her. She was a woman, after all. All women lied to achieve their goals. Look at Lady Rothsmere. She was a prime example of scheming womankind. And he didn’t believe a word she said about her family.
Or so he told himself.
“Do you love me?” he asked abruptly.
Raven started. “Do I love you?” she repeated numbly, her emotions still whirling from his unusual kiss. “I suppose I do, in a way. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Adam replied thoughtfully. “It just seemed important to ask, that’s all.”
Raven laid her head on his shoulder. His hand came up to rest on the back of her neck and just stayed there, his thumb stroking the side of her neck in a comforting pattern. They stood like that for a while before Raven sighed and stepped away from him.
“I am very disappointed in myself,” she told him tartly. “I came here to beard the lion in his den and then allowed said lion to distract me from my task. Shame on me.” She smiled.
Adam steered her to a chair and then sat down himself. “Beard away,” he replied with a little less than his usual cynicism.
“What are your plans for Miss Bri?”
“Miss Bri? Has she still not told you who she is, then?”
“No she has not. But I think she will, given time.”
“What makes you think that?” he asked, truly perplexed.
Raven favored him with an amused, mysterious grin. “Just a feeling I have.”
Adam quirked an eyebrow at her and his lips curled into a half-smile. “Indeed?”
“Indeed,” she replied confidently. “I have a feeling we are bound to be friends.”
Adam’s smile disappeared. “No, you’re not.”
“I hardly think you have any right to decide my friends, Adam.”
“But I do have a right to decide who may or may not associate with my guest.” He sighed and shoved a hand through his dark locks. “Damn it, I knew it was a bad idea to bring you here,” he muttered half to himself.
Raven controlled her temper. She had to know what Adam planned to do with Bri. “All of that aside,” she replied in a tone that suggested they would argue about her choice in friends later, “what do you plan to do with her?”
Adam looked at her and for the first time felt like throwing her out on her ear. He had never found her particularly annoying before but now he felt like giving the woman her congé. Blast, women were the devil! What would she do if he told her that Bri must go back?
He couldn’t take any chances in losing the chit again. “I will tell you when I’ve reached a decision,” he replied evasively.
Raven could tell that was the only answer she was going to receive at that moment. “Fine,” she capitulated. She had some doubts that he would tell her, but there was nothing else she could do for the time being. “But as her nurse, I must ask you to please refrain from tiring her out as you did today.”
Lady Rothsmere plucked nervously at the coverlet on the bed. She eyed her companion with some misgiving.
She didn’t know why she was so uncertain about asking this particular woman questions. She had, after all, spent the past week doing little more than converse with her and laugh with her and become closer and closer. So why did she feel so reluctant to ask her what she really wanted to know?
Probably because it would be rude, vulgar, and impertinent for her to do so. Bri had never let such things stop her before. Those very reasons had often spurred her on to somewhat reckless acts, as a matter of fact.
But now she found herself facing an actress from Drury Lane, someone undeserving of a countess’s notice let alone her friendship for the simple reason that she had chosen acting as her means of survival. However, Bri couldn’t get around the feeling that it would be beyond rude to ask Raven what she wanted to know.
And why did she even care? It wasn’t as if she was interested in Adam herself. The man was infuriating and rude and stubborn and hardheaded and cynical and…and…
Bri realized she had just described herself.
This realization stilled her hands ensuring the coverlet’s survival. Were they really so much alike? It wasn’t possible. If she were like him…the thought did not deserve the attention she was giving it. And neither did he.
“It might relieve your mind if you just ask me whatever it is you want to know.”
Looking up, Bri encountered amused black eyes. She smiled slightly and looked away. Raven continued to look at her expectantly.
“Do you love him?” Bri blurted out before the thought had even formed in her head.
Raven’s perfectly arched brows quirked upward. “I assume you are referring to Adam,” she replied in her slightly husky voice. Her gaze turned enigmatic, mysterious, as if she knew a secret of great import and she was debating whether or not to share. “I also assume you have a good reason for asking, so I will tell you. In a way, of course I do. He is a very dear friend after all and has played a big part in my survival.” She smiled. “No, I am not in love with him.”
Bri released the breath she hadn’t been aware she was even holding. “I am completely disgusted with myself,” she said heatedly. “And Adam. I am beyond well, yet here I sit, in bed, as if I am still ill. Why can’t I walk about? I would like to go outside. I would like to feel less like an invalid and more like a human being.”
Miss Emerson chuckled. “That explains your disgust for Adam. What about you?”
Bri flushed, embarrassed for the first time for her impertinence. “I had no business asking you such a personal question, especially considering your relationship with Adam, and I am severely disappointed in myself for succumbing to temptation.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t mind. But I wouldn’t go asking Adam the same question,” she warned lightly. “He may lie or stretch the truth a bit just to try to
set you off. You know how he is.”
Adam entered the room at that moment and both women wondered how much he had heard, if anything. His look gave nothing away since it was a well-bred blank and his eyes were shuttered.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a slightly mocking bow that indicated his belief that there were no such creatures present in that particular room. “I trust I find you both well.”
“Yes. Why the devil am I still confined to this bloody bed?”
One black brow rose imperiously. Adam stared at Bri until she flushed with embarrassment for the second time that day. She cursed him in her head and corrected, “I am well, thank you, Mr. Prestwich. I hope you are well?” Her tone implied she wished no such thing. “Will I be able to leave my bed soon?”
Adam let his amusement show. His lips quirked upward and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why haven’t you defied me?” he asked in a most conversational tone.
Bri was determined not to let him goad her. She smiled brilliantly. “I would never do anything so vulgar as defy my temporary guardian,” she replied with a sweetness that was truly awful to behold. “Why, what would he think of me were I to do such a hoydenish thing?”
“He would probably think you were actually better,” Prestwich retorted dryly. “How can I be sure you are strong enough to go home if you are still not acting like the Bri I know?”
Chapter Ten
“Oh, dear God, you’re sending me back,” Bri breathed in sudden trepidation.
She was surprised that she had actually believed that he would see the truth in her story and not take her back. Had she really wanted to make a knight-errant out of the infamous Mr. Adam Prestwich? Everyone knew what a cold-hearted devil he was. She knew personally what a cold-hearted devil he was. Why would he change for her?
“Adam, you can’t possibly send her back there. Do you—”
“Leave us, Raven,” Prestwich commanded curtly. “This doesn’t concern you.”
He advanced into the room. Raven stood her ground and glared up at him defiantly. “I will not let you do it, Adam.”
Adam’s hand shot out and clamped painfully on her wrist. “You will obey me in this, woman,” he bit out as he propelled her to the door. He shoved her through, closed the door, and locked it.
“That was a trifle harsh, don’t you think?”
Adam approached the bed. He stood next to it, his arms once again crossed over his broad chest. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I find I have no patience for females at the moment.”
“That is hardly an acceptable excuse for manhandling a weaker creature than you, Mr. Prestwich.”
A grunt was the only indication he even heard her words. “You are going home today, Lady Rothsmere. Prepare yourself for it.”
Bri sighed. She was suddenly so tired. Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of…life.
“Fine,” she replied woodenly.
Adam noticed her change in mood and wondered at it. He suspected that she was merely trying to trick him into letting down his guard so she could escape again.
“Are you going to try to escape?” he finally asked after studying her for several tense moments on his part.
“No.”
“Do I have your word?”
She hesitated. “Yes. You have my word I will not attempt to escape,” she replied solemnly.
“Thank you.”
Adam turned to leave. Bri felt all her old anger return for a moment and she glared at his retreating back wishing she had a knife to stick there. She settled for words.
“You’re an unconscionable bastard, Adam Prestwich. I feel sorry for your wife.”
Adam froze. How did she…? No, it wasn’t possible. He turned around slowly, fixing her with a basilisk stare. “What did you say?”
Bri returned his gaze with one of her own. “You will marry one day and I pity the poor girl who is forced to accept your hand.”
Adam’s relief was so great, he actually smiled, albeit mockingly. “Well, I will never marry, so you need not trouble your kind heart with her miserable fortune.”
It was every bit as bad as she had thought it would be. She stood in the rigidly formal drawing room of the Duke of Corning’s London residence in Grosvenor Square. Well, it was actually one of her homes but this point was moot at the moment. Adam had retreated a pace but he was still within reach and her family virtually surrounded them.
They were all there: both dukes and their wives, the earl and countess, and even her cousin Viscount Breckon. It crossed her mind that Levi was missing and she felt like she was completely friendless. He was the only one she could count on to take her side.
Her blasted family fawned over her for quite half-an-hour exclaiming over how worried they were and how naughty she was. It was all just a show for Adam, she knew, and he just stood there like a big dumb animal and said nothing unless asked a direct question.
Bri watched her nemesis surreptitiously while her Aunt Clara lamented the loss of her dark red locks. Honestly, Bri didn’t really miss them. Her hair had been thick and heavy causing her constant headaches. Since her convalesce at Lockwood, her hair had grown to a more manageable length and recovered its deep red luster. It now closely resembled a fashionable crop.
Adam met her gaze suddenly and she realized the mocking look had gone to be replaced by an unreadable emotion. Puzzled, she looked back at Aunt Clara, Countess of Fenton.
Aunt Clara was a short, flighty little thing with more hair than wit. She adopted the mannerisms of a débutante although she was well into her fiftieth year. When presented to Adam she had simpered and flirted awfully. Bri was impressed with his ability to hide the disgust he had to feel.
“My dear girl, you have lost weight as well, have you not? This is just dreadful! However shall you find a husband looking the way you do?” Aunt Clara twisted her hands together in distress.
“Don’t be a twit, Clara,” the Duchess of Corning inserted sharply. “She doesn’t need looks. She has money and a title. Besides, her betrothed is awaiting her.”
“What?” Adam and Bri exclaimed simultaneously. They exchanged looks of consternation although Adam’s stance had not changed. He still stood a little from her with his left hand fingering his quizzing glass and his right hand shoved in the pocket of his pantaloons. Surprise had him momentarily stiffening and the hand on his glass paused for a fraction of a second. But then he was in complete control again.
Lady Corning turned a haughty look on Mr. Prestwich. “You may go now, sir. You have completed your task, I think.” Her nose rose another notch, if that was even possible.
Adam restrained his sudden urge to toss the old bat out the window and bowed instead. He threw a look at Bri and took his leave.
Bri watched him go and wondered why she felt even more friendless than she had before. Then she faced her family and shivered. Corning was wearing a smirk and his wife was staring at her disdainfully. Aunt Clara was still fidgeting, as usual, and the Duke of Westbury was looking mighty pleased with himself. The viscount stood by the window, looking out on the square as if the drawing room proceedings held no interest for him. The Earl of Fenton’s expression was impassive and she wondered if perhaps he had succumbed to his past habit of taking laudanum on a regular basis. His eyes looked decidedly glassy.
It took all of her willpower not to dash after Adam and beg him to take her away. She knew that the dukes’ plans had changed and she knew they would be even worse than before.
He stopped just outside the front door and looked up. He caught the look of cunning on Viscount Breckon’s face. He had to repress a shiver.
Adam shook his head and vaulted into his phaeton. His tiger handed him the reins and Adam set off, barely giving the lad time to leap on the back.
Adam drove through the late morning streets of London at a reckless pace, trying to outrun his conscience. He shouldn’t have left her there with those people. But what could he have possibly done? She was underage. They ha
d control. Her family contained two dukes, an earl, a viscount, and a few minor titles as well. Adam Prestwich, baronet, quite simply lacked the power to help her.
He had the money, of that he was sure. Westbury had barely a feather to fly with; Corning had not much more than that. Of the viscount Adam knew little, but he suspected that he was a trifle lean in the pocket as well. Everyone knew that Fenton spent every cent he had on his drug habit so Adam knew there was no money there. There was a baron in there somewhere but Adam didn’t even know his name much less his financial situation.
But did she really need the help? Or was her family telling the truth when they told him she was just being a spoiled brat? What on earth had possessed the Earl of Rothsmere to leave her in the care of impecunious relatives?
A vision of haunted emerald eyes flashed before his eyes and he jerked the reins. It took him a few moments to bring his team back under control while Jem muttered something about ham-fisted driving.
Why did he have to remember that now? She would have to be a better actress than Raven to have been lying when she told him about the straitjacket. She had cried. Piteously. It was very unlike Bri to cry.
Especially in front of him.
Adam drew to a halt before his mansion but didn’t move to step down. Jem ran around to the horses’ heads and waited patiently.
Adam wished Connor was still in Town. He might have some idea of how to help.
Damn it, she didn’t need his help! He had helped enough. But he had to do something.
“Get back on or get out of the way,” Adam commanded curtly, coming to a sudden decision. Jem jumped back on and they were off again, this time to Haymarket.
“You want me to what?” asked Raven in disbelief.
“Don’t sound as though I’m asking you to commit some crime. I just want to know what Breckon is up to. How would you do that without putting out a few lures?”