She stared out the window, toward Rotten Row in the distance. “What was it like when you first met Father?”
“We’ve spoken of this before, Adeline. I’m sure you recall the story. Your father simply introduced himself and told me that I would be his wife. As you know, he was correct,” Mother said with a laugh.
“And you knew without a doubt that he was to be your husband?”
“The truth is that I thought your father was an accomplished flirt.”
“You weren’t lightheaded or stricken with a terrible weight upon your breast? You didn’t feel inexplicably tethered to him from the first moment?”
Mother shook her head. “Not at first. I fell in love with him straightaway. But I did not know that he was perfect for me until you were born.” She looked out the window, her gaze far off. “During that time, I first felt the dizziness and that invisible chain you mentioned. Of course, your father had felt that way all along—that certainty is in your blood—and I’d felt foolish for not understanding the power of such a bond until we’d been married for nearly three years.”
“Did you ever tell Father?”
Mother nodded. “Oh, he knew. While he was confident that I loved him, he was also rather smug in telling me that it wasn’t as strong as the way he loved me. I thought he was just being romantic again.”
All these years, Adeline had thought that the stories she’d heard about the Pimm family line falling deeply, inexplicably in love had always happened to both parties. Learning that they were—quite possibly—only quixotic stories left her feeling rather empty.
Her spirits plummeted. She told herself it was foolish to feel this way. “I’d always thought you both knew from the first moment.”
“Are you worried that Wolford might not feel the same?” Mother’s uncanny look of knowing lit her eyes.
“No, of course not.” Adeline shook her head, adamant. “That would presume too much on both our parts. He does not want to marry and . . . neither do I.”
She waited for her mother to look surprised, but she merely smiled instead and waited patiently, as if anticipating what her daughter would say next.
Adeline forged ahead. “You might have guessed that I did not come to London for the purpose of finding a husband. I came here to—”
“Prove to your father and I that you are a capable young woman. Yes, I have noticed things too,” Mother said. “I’ve bitten my tongue to keep from asking if you were too warm or too cold. I’ve wanted to pack your things and hie you back to Boswickshire at least a hundred times. The other day, when Juliet and Ivy were here for tea, it took all of my willpower not to cover your ears so that you would not hear what the ton was saying. Not to mention the countless times when I’ve absently reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. And most of all, I’ve become all too aware of each passing year.”
So Mother had taken her request to heart. She truly was trying not to coddle her any longer. And while Adeline appreciated the effort and love, those impulses Mother confessed to seemed as if she still thought of Adeline as a lame little girl. “You’ve never asked me to assist you with managing the servants or learning any of the duties expected of me. Most young women have that instruction from the time they are young.”
“I suppose seeing you blossom into a woman has made me want to hold on all the more. I didn’t want to offer instruction on how to run a household because I did not want to lose you to your own.”
“Then it is not because of”—Adeline held her breath—“my leg or that you think me incapable?”
Mother’s eyes watered. “Not at all. I’m sorry that you ever felt that way. That is my own failing. The burden of guilt over your leg dissipated long ago. You did that for me by being so brave all your life.”
A choked sob escaped Adeline. This was the whole reason she’d wanted to come to London. If she had known . . . then she might never have left Boswickshire. Might never have met Liam. Might never have known what if felt like to feel utterly connected to another person. Then again, perhaps she would have been better off not knowing him. Especially considering that he might never feel the same about her.
Drying her eyes, a sense of certainty filled her. She would be better off returning home regardless. It was getting too difficult to think of her life without him, and therefore she needed to do just that. Live her life without him, before it was too late for her heart.
Standing in the study at Sudgrave Terrace, Liam heard the front door open. At first, he’d assumed it was one of the footmen from next door or even Boswick coming to look in on him. He did not expect to see his uncle stride through the open archway as if he owned the property. Although since Uncle Albert had been living abroad until recently, Liam chose to shrug it off as a difference between cultures. It might take some time for Albert to remember London ways.
Uncle Albert’s walking stick rapped against the floor as he came to a sudden stop. Beneath a beaver hat, his yellowed and graying brows shot up. He stroked a hand over his trimmed though unfashionable beard and mustachio, before flashing a cigar-stained grin. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
An odd greeting, but again, Liam was willing to make allowances. He set down the invoice that Rendell had left on the top of the crate and extended his hand. “Uncle Albert. I’m glad to see you. I trust both you and my fair cousin had a safe journey?”
“Couldn’t have done it without Gemma. She speaks the native tongue wherever we travel. I daresay, even better than her poor sainted mother had.” Albert removed his hat and grabbed his walking stick by the neck and—instead of shaking Liam’s hand—began to stroll about the room, absently looking over the collection.
Liam lowered his hand and studied his uncle. “She was always a bright girl. I imagine she is eager to finish her studies.”
Albert peered inside one of the crates. “She finished those ages ago. No. In fact, she expressed a desire to have a Season.”
“Surely little Gemma is not old enough for a Season.” His cousin had had a head full of bouncing black ringlets while scampering about in a pinafore the last time Liam had seen her.
“My thoughts mirror yours,” Albert said convivially, while he continued his perusal around the room. “The truth is, she is one and twenty now.”
Only a year younger than Adeline?
The thought gave him pause. Was it normal for him to compare every woman, even if only their ages, to Adeline?
Albert laughed. “It came as a surprise to me as well. It seemed as if one day she was a grinning girl, excited about riding to the dig site on the back of a camel, and then overnight she turned into a woman who thinks camels are smelly, disgusting creatures. Then again, she might be correct about that.”
Liam chuckled. “So you intend to stay?”
“We have come home to roost, as it were.”
Liam felt relieved. Not only for Gemma’s sake but for Albert’s as well. His uncle was far too naïve sometimes and prone to being deceived by unscrupulous men. Liam thought back to the day he’d made this discovery. It was only a year ago when Albert had returned to town for a few days. During the visit, he’d spotted one of Albert’s new acquisitions—the head of Aphrodite.
Albert had boasted that it was one of the Elgin marbles that were thought to have been destroyed during their voyage to England years ago. Apparently, he’d paid a pretty penny to secure it for a colleague, who had backed out, leaving Albert without payment and in the weeds for his next excursion. Knowing that his uncle was too proud to admit that he was short on cash, Liam had offered to buy the head. At the time, he’d only thought of the amusement he’d have by examining it. Because no one had known that he already possessed the original. And now, only Vale and Adeline knew that he had both in his collection.
“But enough about me,” Albert said. “Edith tells me that you intend to give a lecture at the Royal Society about forgery.”
Liam concealed his confusion. Edith mentioned his lecture? But she had been the o
ne most concerned about embarrassing Albert, should his purchase of the forgery be revealed. He was beginning to wonder if he truly knew any of his family.
Stranger still was the sudden change of topic, to be sure. And how odd that his uncle’s thoughts had practically mirrored his own. Though perhaps, Liam reasoned, Albert had suspected the head of Aphrodite was a fake—but no. It didn’t seem possible. His uncle had been too proud of the acquisition. At the time, he’d never given away an inkling of doubt.
Even so, Liam couldn’t shake himself free of the notion that something seemed out of place in this visit.
“As a favor to Vale,” he answered, choosing to believe that Aunt Edith had accidentally revealed his secret but without stating that Albert’s Aphrodite would be the star of the exhibit. “As you might have heard, he is a new fellow.”
“Hmm . . .” Albert smirked. “One would think Vale would present an invention of some sort instead. It sounds to me as if he thinks to do you a favor. After all, you are hardly the scholar that he is.”
The statement had been made often enough over the years that Liam dismissed it with a mere shrug. His collection was seen as nothing more than a rich man’s plaything. He rarely revealed his true passion to anyone.
Yet just now, Albert’s laugh pinched at Liam’s ego like a falcon perched on his shoulder, one that could not be dislodged with a mere shrug.
Feeling the tendons and sinew of his shoulders tighten, Liam adopted his characteristic persona, reverting to mockery, and self-mockery at that. “Vale has become sentimental since his marriage, so I do not doubt you are correct. Though I would not dream of letting him down, even if only to give the fellows an hour of amusement at my expense.”
Strangely, Albert frowned. His hand now clutched the head of his walking stick until his knuckles turned white. “Perhaps you should postpone it. After all, you were recently injured, and still hiding yourself away.”
That was Albert’s second mention of hiding. But Liam wasn’t. In fact, he’d stayed here last night as if rooted to this place. Though perhaps it was not the property, but a certain young woman’s hold over him.
Yet after last night, he knew he had to sever ties. He’d made the decision earlier this morning that it was time to return to his old life. It was safer there. He didn’t need the cumbersome weight of his attraction to Adeline, nor his fondness for her parents, clinging to him. He wanted to shrug it off, go back to the way things had always been, and settle into a more comfortable skin. In fact, he’d already sent word to the infamous Lady Reynolds to expect him for dinner.
Thinking about the alternative—allowing Adeline to burrow beneath his skin, inside his heart—brought back a painful memory. He’d been foolish once, and the lesson had left a permanent scar on his jaded heart. He would rather remember Adeline as she was in his mind, instead of being proven wrong in the future, which seemed inevitable.
“I am well recovered, thanks to the kindness of my neighbors who took me in.”
“Yes. Edith has told me all about Lord and Lady Boswick,” he said absently. “Were you able to discover who attacked you?”
Liam shook his head. “I still cannot recall their faces. Likely one was a jealous husband. As for the other, I could not say.”
“A jealous husband? Why would you assume that?”
Liam pressed a finger to his temple. “That night is still a bit foggy in here.”
“Surely, you remember something. A voice? A face?”
Liam had been having dreams of that night, fragments of shadowed images and a voice asking strange questions. Where is The . . . ? If you let her go, we could end this.
The instant he’d awoken, Liam repeated that first question, trying to hold on to the dreams. “Where is The—what?” Yet the words had been too garbled to comprehend. He was hoping for a name he recognized. Running through faces of the women he knew, he could recall none with a name that began with the sound of The. He knew a Theodosia, but she was Edith’s aunt, and somehow he doubted those men were seeking an octogenarian with poor eyesight and at least forty cats.
The seemed important, his only link. Unfortunately, he could not wholly dismiss it as being dream fiction, nor could he add credence to it.
These thoughts caused his headache to return, like the ones that only Adeline had alleviated. Likely seeing her would make this one disappear as well, but it was best to withdraw from her for as long as possible. He didn’t know how he would be able to see her at the ball Aunt Edith was hosting for Albert and Gemma at week’s end.
Until that time, he needed to garner his strength by avoiding her. Even if it was only a wall that separated them now.
“Nothing, Uncle.” Liam shrugged.
Albert’s watchful gaze honed in on him for another moment before he drew in a breath and appeared more relaxed. Then he abruptly changed the subject. “Edith mentioned—special guests, I believe were her words—coming to the ball. She intimated that you hold a certain young woman in high esteem.”
Now, Liam’s attention fixed on his uncle, a sudden and keen sense of warning prickling over his skin, lifting every hair. It was one thing if Aunt Edith had slipped and mentioned his lecture on forgeries, but would she also start rumors that linked him to Adeline Pimm? No. Surely not.
After all, she’d been trying to ensure that an association with him had not sullied Adeline’s reputation. She would not so casually propagate such a notion.
His uncle, on the other hand, had been away from town for too long and perhaps had read more into what might have been a passing mention. Therefore, to ensure that there was no misunderstanding, he laughed and shook his head. “There is no young woman I hold in high esteem. Perhaps my aunt merely wishes there were.”
Albert flashed another stained grin and donned his hat with a jaunty pat against the top. “I must be off, Nephew. It is good to see that you are doing so well.”
Then he rapped the head of his walking stick against the crate before taking his leave.
And when the door closed, Liam stared after the man who had seemed more of a stranger than kin. Though perhaps that was the effect brought by years of separation. Whatever it was, it left him unsettled.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Season Standard—the Daily Chronicle of Consequence
Our Earl of W— has been seen a great deal around town. Conflicting reports, however, mark his attendance at various scandalous gatherings, as well as those far more respectable. While many still have great hopes for W—, one must wonder if our Original contender has been tamed at last, or has he returned to his wolfish ways?
As she read over the Standard, Adeline was not the least bit jealous. Whatever entertainments Liam sought were none of her concern. He’d made that clear enough in the past few days by his absence.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if he was hers . . .
She folded the page sharply and swatted the table with it as she stood. Was he afraid that she would begin fawning over him or clinging to his side? He probably assumed that her desire not to marry was nothing but pretense. Or worse, that after what happened the other night, she expected to marry him. The notion was nearly as infuriating as when they’d first met, and he’d thought she was plotting to trap him. Of all the ridiculous . . .
Adeline grew still.
While Liam hadn’t confessed it to her, she’d guessed that such a circumstance had happened before. Perhaps even more than once. Surely, he was always on his guard against women seeking to marry a handsome gentleman with a fortune and title. And those weren’t even his best qualities. He was brilliant and kind as well. Even his wickedness was appealing.
She could easily understand his desirability. After all, if she weren’t so determined not to marry, even she would find herself wanting to marry him too, and to love him openly, unreservedly, instead of concealing her feelings as she had been since—
Adeline gasped for breath as the thoughts tumbled out of her before she even had the chance to think them th
rough. Love him? Had she actually been foolish enough to fall in love with him? True love and not one born of a peculiar Pimm myth?
The walls of her heart squeezed sharply beneath her breast in answer. It had been doing this ever since they’d parted, as if throwing a tantrum. Stupid heart.
“There is no point in feeling this way,” she told that petulant organ. She pressed a fist to her breast and glanced down at the paper that listed Liam’s recent exploits. “He doesn’t feel the same about you. So you’re better off forgetting about him.”
A fresh twinge twisted her heart, this one seemingly mournful. The pain of it traveled to the corners of her eyes where the sting of tears began. Liam did not—and would never—love her.
Hadn’t he told her as much, countless times by revealing his ultimate goals? He was a hedonist, not a romantic. Even so, admitting it to herself felt like the death of a new unrealized dream and filled her with a fragile, futile yearning.
Adeline swallowed down her unspent tears and brushed the wetness from her lower lashes with an impatient swipe. It was good that she was going home so soon. By week’s end, she would be on her way to Boswickshire. Perhaps with a greater distance between them, she would no longer feel this way.
Liam was restless. For days he’d done nothing more than live his life as he always had, filling it to the brim with revelry, lascivious parties, irresponsible gambling, and whatever else he damn well felt like doing.
In fact, last night he went to Lady Reynolds’s dinner party, where an attractive young woman had lain in the center of the table. Her body had been nude, aside from vines winding up her lithe legs and arms and from the strategic placement of various fruits and delicacies. Amongst those, slices of grapes and strawberries covered her breasts. Dollops of cream and caviar adorned her abdomen. And for amusement’s sake, slices of peaches formed a triangle over her mons.
This sensual cannibalism was a common occurrence at Lady Reynolds’s. Usually, they made a game of it, clasping hands behind their backs and removing slices with their teeth. During these dinners, by the time their serving platter was bare, the orgy would have begun. They would have made a game of that too, using only their mouths. And Liam excelled in giving pleasure with his mouth, in addition to his hands, a well-placed thigh, and a usually generous appendage.
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