She said nothing for a moment, but then he heard the bed creak, the rustling of the linens as she climbed out of bed. “All right,” she said softly, and he heard her move away, then the door open and close. Adrian waited for a moment, his fingers spreading against the wall at his back to make sure it did not go anywhere. She was gone. Oh God, hopefully one day she would understand. He sagged against the wall as another blinding headache forced his chin to his chest.
“I’ll go, but only for the moment. I will not leave you.”
Her voice cracked the air; Adrian lurched upright, straining uselessly to see her, his pulse racing at having been so shamelessly fooled. He heard the door open and the sound of her dressing gown as she whisked through it, then the loud, resounding slam of it when she shoved it closed.
This time, he had no doubt she was gone.
It had been four weeks to the day, Lilliana thought as she marched down the long corridor of the east wing. Hugo and Maude followed closely behind, the bells she had fastened around their necks jangling loudly. The door to the breakfast room was open, and she could hear Adrian’s loud groan before she reached it. A smile slowly spread her lips; she marched across the threshold, and punched her fists to her hips as she surveyed the room. Adrian was sitting at the table, his face buried in his hands. Max stood at the sideboard behind him, shaking his head fiercely in warning, grimacing and pointing wildly at Adrian.
Lilliana blithely ignored him. “Still in high dudgeon, I see,” she quipped, and glided into the room with her dogs close behind.
“High dudgeon!” Adrian snapped, and straightened slowly, his eyes staring blankly in front of him. “I assure you I am hardly afflicted with such a feminine weakness, but I am sick to death of those curs!”
Max shook his head so hard that fine wisps of hair stood straight out as he anxiously pointed at the dogs. Lilliana merely smiled; the staff was intimidated by Adrian’s fierceness, but not her. She had made the discovery that he was capable of feeling after all, and on some level she delighted in provoking those feelings. And since his accident, she rarely had to try. He reserved the most bitter of his emotions for her.
“My pups adore you, Adrian,” she announced sweetly, and settled herself directly across from him. His sightless eyes unabashedly fascinated her; she marveled at their ability to convey the emotions he so easily masked when he could see. Judging by the glint in them now, he was greatly displeased.
“I don’t give a damn—I hope to heaven you take them with you when you return to Blackfield Grange,” he snarled, and shoved his hands through his hair, making it look as if it hadn’t been combed in weeks.
Lilliana chuckled. “What, the Grange again, Adrian? You have apparently forgotten—for at least the hundredth time, I am quite certain—that I am not going to the Grange.”
Adrian’s face darkened. “Do you want my opinion?” he drawled nastily.
“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “Why don’t you give it to me first, and then I shall decide?”
Max’s mouth dropped open in amazement before he threw back his head and closed his eyes in mortification. Adrian punched his elbows to the table and leaned forward, glaring at a point over her shoulder. “Very well, then, Princess, brace yourself,” he drawled nastily. “It is my opinion that you are an immature, selfish, and woefully ignorant country bumpkin who is not fit to shine my shoes!”
“Is that all?” Lilliana laughed, and winked at the butler. “You must congratulate me, Max. I have apparently improved over yesterday. As you are in such fine spirits, my lord, perhaps you would agree to walk in the gardens with a woefully ignorant country bumpkin?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “If you won’t leave Longbridge, then at least have the decency to leave me be,” he said, and motioned angrily for Max, who rushed forward, grasping Adrian’s arm and the chair at the same time. Adrian rose cautiously, his hands gripping the table until he was confident on Max’s arm. “To my rooms,” he muttered irritably, “and kick the stuffing from those beasts if they dare step in our path.”
Lilliana rose too. Hugo and Maude immediately sprang to their feet like chubby little sentinels, paying rapt attention to her every movement.
At the door, Adrian paused at the sound of their bells. “Do not follow me!” he all but shouted.
“I am not following you,” she replied calmly. “I am going to my rooms. Come, pups.”
“What are you waiting for?” he snarled at Max. “Be quick about it!” With a nervous hitch, Max gingerly placed one hand on Adrian’s waist, then wrapped the other around Adrian’s upper arm, and began to lead him with great care down the corridor. Frowning at the pair, Lilliana followed slowly behind with her hands clasped behind her back. Adrian walked as if he were one hundred and fifty years old, one arm stretched far in front of him, his steps measured and shuffled. Exasperated, she sighed loudly.
“You may remedy your impatience by leaving Longbridge,” he irritably reminded her.
“Why? I am hardly bothering you.”
“I beg to differ. You have bothered me since the day we were wed.”
Again, Max shook his head—this time, at his feet.
“You needn’t remind me of that,” Lilliana replied in a singsong voice. “You’ve been quite plain about it, actually. Oh, Hugo! Give that to me!” The puppy obediently relinquished the linen napkin he had helped himself to in the breakfast room, and waddled over to see what Maude was so frantically sniffing. Bells tinkled softly as the two dogs sniffed around the leg of the furniture.
“This house is not a barn, and I want those mongrels out of here!” Adrian growled. “Those bells are enough to drive a man out of his mind.”
“It is still too cold outdoors—”
“They are dogs, for God’s sake—”
And the bells let you know where they are at all times.”
“I don’t want to know where they are! Good God! Will you not leave?” he roared.
Max was positively cringing now; he cast pleading glances at her over his shoulder as he carefully eased Adrian up onto the first step of the great spiraling staircase, and the next.
Like an invalid.
Lilliana’s frown deepened. “Max, don’t you think he could climb the stairs by himself? There is a perfectly good railing he could hold—”
“Get out!” Adrian suddenly exploded, and clutched desperately at Max to keep from toppling over. “I will not abide this constant harassment! If you are not gone by morning, I shall send for the constable, do you hear me? Do us all an enormous favor and get out!”
Lilliana stilled. As accustomed as she was to his frequent railing, the rabid way in which he spoke stung her. Lord, how he hated her! Because she was the one person on this godforsaken estate who insisted that he at least try to live. Even as determined as she was in that, she was weary of the endless stream of scorn. Anger shuddered through her, and she moved quietly up the stairs, pausing on the step where he stood. “If you want me gone, Adrian, you will have to remove me yourself,” she said calmly. “That is, if you are man enough.”
The world seemed to stop for one bizarre moment. Adrian’s hazel eyes clouded with fury and, wrenching free of Max, he suddenly lunged for her. Lilliana easily sidestepped him, and he landed on Maude. The pup’s frightened yelp infuriated him, and he lunged again, crashing headlong into the wall. That caused him to explode in the vilest curse imaginable—she didn’t know the meaning of half the words he used, and cringed as Max quickly grabbed him.
“My lord, please!” the butler cried. “Have a care!” A footman came running to the foot of the stairs; two maids rushed into the foyer, clinging to each other as they watched Adrian thrash about until Max had righted him. He cast an imploring look at Lilliana as Adrian took deep, ragged gulps of air. “Please, my lady,” he begged her, “please! Give him some peace!”
Somewhere below her, she could hear one of the maids moaning softly. Shaking her head with disgust, Lilliana continued up the s
tairs to where Polly was waiting, having witnessed the whole exchange and Adrian’s near topple. “Ah, my lady, his lordship … he needs your support now,” Polly pleaded.
Lilliana glared at her as she marched past. “You are right, Polly. He needs my support. He needs me to help him live, because the rest of you would allow him to waste away like some old fool!”
“Oh this house, this house,” Polly moaned as she hurried after her mistress. “Will it never see an end to the tragedy?”
“Honestly, Polly!” Lilliana snapped. “He is blind, not dead! I will not allow him or anyone else to think otherwise! It is truly beyond my comprehension how the lot of you can watch a man as magnificent as Adrian Spence shrivel up and die! Well, I won’t, and I don’t give a fig what any of you think about it!” she ranted, and stepped into her rooms, quickly ushering her dogs in before turning an enraged glare at Polly. “He is drowning in self-pity, can you not see that? I will not allow it!” she shouted.
Polly blinked down at her big hands, clasped tightly together. “Heaven help us, this family is cursed! First the girls, now this!” she wailed, and turning, rushed away from Lilliana.
Just grand. Now she had succeeded in alienating even Polly. Frustrated and weary from the emotional battering she was enduring, Lilliana slammed the door and restlessly began pacing. Why could they not see what he was doing? Why did they cater to his frailty? Or was it possible that she really was being destructive? Marvelous. Now she was second-guessing herself at every turn. But Dr. Mayton had said to make him live—he had to live! Indeed it was tragic that his sight was gone—but did that make him any less a man? Only if he allowed it, and it made her exceedingly angry that Adrian would not stand up to this adversity. Just where was the fearlessness, the reckless living?
Well, she would stand up to it. He could utterly despise her if he so chose, but she’d be damned if she would watch him sink and drown in his own terror. He would face it or she would die trying to make him!
Escape. Oh God, to escape, if only for a time, for the space of a few hours. Lilliana abruptly left her rooms, marching past his door and down the stairs, ignoring the disapproving looks from the servants who had witnessed her challenge to him. Damn them! Yanking a cloak around her shoulders in the foyer, she marched outside after Hugo and Maude, heading for the stables at a near sprint.
When she reached the paddock, she was startled to see two strangers, one holding Thunder and the other speaking with Mr. Lewis. What on earth? Did Mr. Lewis think to allow these men to ride Thunder? Lilliana hurried across the paddock to him; Mr. Lewis paused the moment he saw her and quickly bowed. “Good afternoon, Lady Albright.”
“Mr. Lewis? What is going on here?” she asked curtly, glancing warily at the man to whom the steward was speaking.
“He’s come for the stallion, my lady. His lordship has sold him.”
Lilliana almost choked. Oh no. No, no, no. He wouldn’t! He could not give up so easily! “What do you mean?” she demanded.
Mr. Lewis glanced sheepishly at the stranger. “Lord Albright has sold—”
“No!” she shrieked, and whirled around, grabbing the reins from the man who held Thunder and startling him badly. “That is impossible, Mr. Lewis! I forbid it!”
Mr. Lewis’s eyes grew wide, and he took a careful step forward. “But my lady,” he whispered loudly, “his lordship has an agreement—”
“No! No agreement, Mr. Lewis! He will not sell Thunder!” she cried, and yanked at the reins, pulling Thunder around. Mr. Lewis moved to take them from her, but Lilliana quickly pulled Thunder back farther, jerking the bridle hard when he pulled in protest. The three men exchanged glances and, as one, began to move toward her. Hysteria bubbled in Lilliana. Her heart beat wildly with fear, but she would die before she would allow them to take Thunder. Adrian held the horse dearer than everything else, and without him, he would truly wither away, she was certain of it. So certain, she wets prepared to fight. Except that her heart had climbed to her throat in sheer terror, threatening to choke her senseless.
“Lady Albright!” Mr. Lewis warned, as if talking to a child.
“No! You cannot sell this horse!” she shrieked hysterically. “And if you think to take him from me, you will have to kill me to do it!”
That stunned the three men into silence. A moment passed; the taller of the two gentlemen shifted his gaze to Mr. Lewis. “Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding,” he said gently.
“No!” Mr. Lewis said hastily. “You must forgive her ladyship, sir. She is … well naturally, she is distraught at what has happened, but Lord Albright was quite clear—”
“Not!” Lilliana screamed.
The two men started backing away. “I suggest that you verify Lord Albright’s intentions, sir,” one muttered, and the two turned on their heels, walking quickly from the paddock and slapping at the noses of the dogs as they attempted to greet them.
Lilliana gulped as Mr. Lewis turned slowly to look at her. “What have you done, my lady?” he muttered hopelessly.
With that, her fear gave way to fury. Was the entire world as blind as Adrian? Her brows snapped into a frown; she thrust the reins at a groom who was gaping at her. “Have him saddled,” she said icily. “Thunder and I are going for a ride.” She glanced at Mr. Lewis, her eyes narrowing dangerously as her gaze sliced across him. “Please listen carefully, sir. I will not—under any circumstance—allow that horse to be sold. My husband will ride again. Do you quite understand me? He will ride that horse again!”
It was quite clear he did not understand, and disgusted, Lilliana marched into the stables. She didn’t give a damn if Mr. Lewis understood her or not. Adrian would sell Thunder over her dead body.
Sixteen
ADRIAN KNEW SOMETHING was wrong. He could hear the frantic conversation down the corridor, could tell by the muffled tone of Max’s voice that he was distressed. The sound of doors banging and bells tinkling further testified to some little bickering, but as long as they left him alone, he could not have cared less. Sitting in front of the fire in what he thought was the gold salon, he did not need or want their attentions.
Was it really a gold salon? Honestly, he couldn’t recall anything but vague details about the room. The chair he was sitting in, for example, he knew to be embroidered. But with what design, he couldn’t say. He knew his grandfather’s ornate clock stood on the mantel, but he had no idea if it kept time. There were so many things, so many little things he had never really noticed. Little things that he would give his life to see again.
Resting his head against the chair, he closed his eyes. As loath as he was to admit it, he would give his life to see her again.
The bickering filtered into his consciousness again; he sighed wearily when the door of the salon opened. “What now, Max?”
“Not Max. Me!”
Adrian groaned and rolled his head from one side to the other on the back of the chair. Marvelous. And the little demon was not alone, apparently, judging by the sound of those intolerable bells and the distinct panting of dogs. “Get those beasts out of here!” he warned her, angrily swiping his arm into black space, hoping to punch at least one of them in the nose.
“Here, pups, go find Max so that I might have a word alone with your papa.”
Adrian scowled at that. The Princess of the Grange apparently had come to torment him again, starting with her annoying habit of speaking to those beasts as if they were human. God in heaven, when would she take her opportunity and leave him? He listened to her usher the two beasts out the door, and when it closed, he warily cocked his head to one side, confused as to whether he was alone or not.
But the rustling of her skirt and the whiff of her perfume as she sailed past assured him he was not alone. “Now what?” he asked testily.
“Would you like a brandy? Or perhaps a whiskey? I confess in the time we’ve been married, I have never known your preference,” she said from somewhere near the sideboard.
“I don’t want anyt
hing but for you to go,” he growled, ignoring the little voice in him that disagreed.
“You don’t want anything but to waste away like some old man! Damn you, Adrian!”
That surprised him. For the last weeks, she had been unerringly cheerful in her responses to his innumerable attempts to make her leave. He could sense her anger, could sense her pacing in front of the hearth. “What concern is it of yours if I do?” he responded evenly. “I know you are too thick to grasp this simple concept, but I don’t want you here.”
“Hush,” she said, her voice threatening. “I am sick unto death of your pathetic attempts to make me leave you.”
“If that is so, madam, then you can ease yourself quite readily by leaving.”
“I don’t care how vile you are, I won’t leave you,” she said, and he imagined a pert toss of her head. “Nor will I allow you to dispose of the few things you hold dear in a fit of self-pity.”
Self-pity? Adrian snorted contemptuously. Did she think blindness was something a man could easily take in stride? “You know nothing.”
“I refused to let Lewis sell Thunder.”
Instantly, a shot of anger rifled through him and Adrian sat up. “You did what?”
“I sent those men away, and then I rode Thunder until he was laboring to breathe,” she blithely announced.
Fury rapidly uncoiled in Adrian’s chest—the little demon was treading on dangerous ground. “Jesus, Lilliana!” he bellowed. “You have no right to countermand me! Regardless of how feeble or infirm you may think me, I am the lord of this estate, and you will not contradict me!”
“If you are lord of this estate, then act like it,” she responded calmly.
Livid, Adrian gripped the arms of his chair. If he could see her, if he could get his hands on her …
“Thunder has not been ridden in weeks and he was desperate to be given his head. Before you launch yourself from that chair, let me assure you he is quite content at the moment. As for those men, well, I could not let you send away the only thing you love because of some silly notion—”
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