Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  Her eyes widened at his unexpected words. “Lord Barclay!”

  Her companion was clearly unrepentant. “It is true. He might possess a fortune, but he has no heart. He thinks of nothing but dreary duty.”

  Although it was no different from what she herself had thought, Addy found herself stiffening in protest.

  “He is very kind to me,” she felt compelled to point out.

  Lord Barclay gave a click of his tongue. “He is no doubt kind to his dogs as well. A wife should be cherished and indulged.”

  She met his gaze squarely. “How do you know that I am not?”

  “A woman well satisfied with her husband has a glow about her. You are distinctly lacking that glow.”

  Addy discovered she did not particularly care to have others speculating on the intimate state of her marriage.

  “You are being absurd.”

  He stepped closer, a faint smile curving his full lips.

  “No, I am being honest. Does that trouble you?”

  “I am more baffled by your inordinate interest in my marriage,” she retorted.

  “Because I desire to see that happy child I once knew. It is a crime to have stolen your spirit.”

  Her brows drew together in a silent warning. “My spirit is my own. It cannot be stolen by anyone.”

  Far too wily not to realize that he had unwittingly overstepped his bounds, Lord Barclay gave a lighthearted chuckle.

  “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that, my dear.”

  She gave a wry shake of her head. “You, sir, are a very dangerous gentleman.”

  “Ah, but what is life without the spice of danger?”

  “Safe?”

  “Safe? Bah. A vastly overrated sentiment. Not to mention extraordinarily dull.” He flashed her a knowing glance. “A woman such as yourself would never be content with such an existence.”

  She arched a raven brow. “And how could you presume to know?”

  “Because I can see the restless dissatisfaction smoldering in those beautiful eyes.” His voice lowered to a husky promise. “It makes me long to see them dark and sated with pleasure.”

  A prickle of alarm made Addy take a sudden step backward. A harmless bit of flirting was one thing. She had no intention of allowing him to believe she was interested in anything further.

  “I believe we should change the conversation, my lord.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Do not tell me you are frightened?”

  Addy reached out to firmly reclaim her fan. “I am sensible enough to know you are a reprehensible rake! If you wish to polish your fatal charms you should choose a more gullible victim.”

  “You have it wrong,” he protested. “I have been felled by your beauty.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward, but before she could take him to task for his foolishness, a sudden shadow fell over her.

  A familiar tingle of awareness rushed through her and slowly she turned to confront the glittering gaze of her husband.

  Her heart sank at the sight of his tight features and the grim line of his mouth.

  Clearly he was once again annoyed with her behavior and anxious to offer her a reprimand.

  Ignoring the gentleman who was regarding him with a lazy nonchalance, Adam held out his arm for her.

  “My dance, I believe, my dear,” he said in tones that warned he would tolerate no mutiny.

  “Good Lord, you surely do not mean to dance with your own wife?” Lord Barclay mocked, even as Addy obediently laid her hand upon Adam’s arm.

  She felt her husband’s muscles tense as he turned to regard the dandy with a scathing dislike.

  “I hardly believe my choice in dancing partners is your concern, Barclay.”

  Barclay deliberately allowed his gaze to move to Addy’s flushed countenance.

  “On the contrary, it is the concern of every poor wretch in London. It is bad enough that you have wed the most enchanting creature in England and kept her secluded from society. To monopolize her on the one occasion she is allowed to make an appearance is positively Gothic.”

  Addy gritted her teeth as she realized the fair-haired devil was deliberately baiting Adam.

  “It is a husband’s prerogative to monopolize his wife if he so desires,” Adam retorted in blighting tones.

  Lord Barclay merely chuckled with a smug self-assurance. “Perhaps your wife might feel otherwise. Addy and I were enjoying a most intriguing discussion.”

  Addy could have stamped her foot in annoyance. The two men had clearly forgotten her presence in their bristling male need to best one another. Like two dogs fighting over a stray bone, she thought in disgust.

  “I suggest that you limit your discussions with Mrs. Drake to the weather, Barclay,” Adam warned, his cold control far more intimidating than any fiery display of temper.

  Lord Barclay lifted a golden brow. “Is that a threat?”

  “Obviously you are not as stupid as I feared.” Having delivered his final shot, Adam swept Addy through the crowd and onto a darkened terrace.

  Once alone with her husband, Addy turned to meet his cold glare with a flare of irritation. She did not care to be hauled from the party like a naughty child.

  “There was no need to threaten Lord Barclay, Adam. We were merely sharing a polite conversation.”

  His jaw tightened in an ominous manner. Standing in the shadows he appeared larger and more intimidating than usual.

  “Do not concern yourself, my dear. Barclay and I understand one another quite well.”

  Meaning that he had already decided that there could be nothing innocent between her and the dashing Lord, she thought wearily. Just another reminder that he would never fully trust her.

  “I suppose you are angry,” she said in dull tones.

  The gray gaze became suddenly watchful. “What would make you think such a thing?”

  “You have the expression upon your countenance that you wear when you are about to give me a lecture.”

  Adam appeared startled by her accusation. “Gads, am I truly so overbearing, Addy?”

  She restlessly moved to the edge of the terrace, blindly staring at the shadowed garden beyond.

  “You can be very stern.”

  “And you would prefer that I be more like Barclay?” he demanded in tight tones.

  Addy gave a slow shake of her head. It was impossible to imagine Adam ever being lighthearted and charming. It simply was not a part of his nature.

  “This is hardly the place to discuss our marriage, Adam.”

  She heard him move to stand directly behind her. Those faint tingles raced through her body as she felt his male heat sear through her satin gown.

  “He is an arrogant lecher, Addy, who has ruined more than one maiden,” he said with obvious impatience.

  Addy reached out to grasp the stone railing. Once again he had managed to misunderstand the source of her irritation.

  “And you believe me foolish enough to fall for his practiced charms?” she demanded. “Or perhaps you simply presume that because of my family I am incapable of being trusted?”

  She heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Do not put words into my mouth.”

  “Can you deny that you do not wholly trust me, Adam?”

  There was a long, tension-fraught silence during which Addy could hear the uneven beat of her heart.

  “You make it very difficult,” he at last confessed reluctantly.

  “Difficult?” She abruptly turned to glare at him in rising anger. How dare he blame her for his lack of trust? “I make it difficult?”

  The lean features were closed and impossible to read in the dim light.

  “I am well aware, Addy, that you have not fully committed yourself to this marriage.”

  Addy’s hands clenched at her side at the unfairness of it all.

  “Are you mad?” she hissed, her eyes flashing with fury. “I have done nothing but commit myself. I live in your house, I wear the clothes you chose, follow your damnable sch
edule, and allow you into my bed. What more could you possibly ask of me?”

  He seemed to flinch at her words, but the handsome features remained set in stern lines.

  “I did not desire a martyr when I wed. I desired a wife. I assure you, there is no pleasure in watching your tragic form floating about the house or to know I am merely endured for the sake of duty in your bed. Is it any wonder that I prefer the comfort of my club to the coldness of my own home?”

  Addy felt as if she had just been slapped. Never before had Adam spoken to her in such a manner and she found her heart clenching with an unexplainable pain.

  “Perhaps you would prefer I return to Surrey?” she whispered in low tones.

  The gray eyes flashed with an indefinable emotion. “You will remain in London, Addy. Make no mistake about that.”

  Feeling suddenly tired and unable to return to the gaiety of the ball, Addy lifted a hand to her throbbing temple.

  “I think I shall return home,” she muttered.

  “Addy . . .”

  “Please, Adam, I have the headache,” she interrupted sharply.

  He regarded her for a long moment before giving a resigned nod of his head.

  “Very well. I shall locate Humbly.”

  Chapter Four

  “No, you must not move,” Addy commanded as the Vicar cast a languishing glance toward the tea tray that had been delivered by Mrs. Hall.

  With a covert motion Mr. Humbly returned his head to the dignified angle that Addy had insisted upon.

  “My dear Addy, I do not believe I could move if I wished to,” he shamelessly lied. “I fear I have forever stiffened in this hideously uncomfortable position.”

  “Fah,” she retorted with a decided lack of sympathy. Her hand moved swiftly as she sketched the prominent thrust of his nose. Much to her surprise, she had discovered she thoroughly enjoyed capturing the unique spirit of the Vicar in her numerous drawings. It was a true challenge to her skills. “I distinctly saw you glance longingly at those lemon tarts on the tray that Mrs. Hall just left sitting on the table.”

  Humbly heaved a long suffering sigh. “Well, it does seem a sin to allow such delectable creations to go to waste.”

  “They will not disappear in the next twenty minutes,” she said dryly.

  “Twenty minutes? Dear heavens, I shall expire.”

  Addy gave a reluctant chuckle at his fervent exclamation. Somehow this dear man always managed to lighten her mood. Not an easy task today.

  After a near sleepless night she had awakened with a heavy spirit. She had been so determined to enjoy her evening at the ball. It was the first occasion she had had since her marriage to mingle with society. The first occasion to recall the pleasure of laughter and dancing.

  But it had all gone horribly wrong.

  Her jaw tightened as she recalled the manner with which Adam had hustled her from the ballroom like a disobedient child and proceeded to lecture her on a harmless conversation with Lord Barclay.

  He had thoroughly ruined her evening and worse, he had wounded her pride with his blunt confession he did not trust her.

  Dash it all. It had been uncomfortable enough living with Adam in a state of polite, frozen courtesy. She might have disliked guarding her every word and being abandoned for hours in this great tomb of a house, but at least she did not have to worry over sudden squabbles and sharp words that seemed to cut to her very soul.

  Realizing that the Vicar was watching her with a hopeful expression she reluctantly set aside her drawing pad.

  “Very well, we shall take a brief rest. A very brief rest,” she warned as she moved to pour her guest a cup of tea and place several lemon tarts upon a plate.

  Joining her upon the low sofa, Humbly accepted his refreshments with a click of his tongue.

  “I had no notion you could be such a tyrant.”

  Addy poured herself a cup of tea, although she ignored the various pastries.

  “This was your idea, if you will recall,” she reminded him.

  “That was because I did not properly comprehend the Machiavellian delight that artists take in torturing their poor models. It is little wonder most people look stiff and unpleasantly grim in portraits.”

  She gave a chuckle at his ridiculous moanings. “I assure you I have been excessively kind, compared to most artists.”

  A distinct twinkle entered the sherry brown eyes as he took a large bite of a lemon tart.

  “Perhaps our definitions of kind are different. To keep an old man away from his beloved tarts is in my estimation cruel in the extreme.”

  Addy settled back in the cushions, her frayed nerves slowly soothed by her companion’s undemanding presence.

  “I am so glad you have come for a visit.”

  “As am I, my dear.” He offered her a sweet smile. “Tell me, did you enjoy the ball last evening?”

  Her gaze abruptly dropped to the steam rising from her cup. There was little doubt that Mr. Humbly had sensed the brittle tension that filled the carriage on the drive home. Or the fact that Adam and Addy had not even glanced in one another’s direction. Still, she felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing the stormy scene that had marred her evening.

  “It was lovely to be among society again,” she retorted vaguely. “What did you think of your first London ball?”

  Humbly gave a surprising grimace. “Ah, well . . . I cannot say that I enjoyed being elbowed about or having my poor toes nearly crushed by a large woman in a hideous turban. But I did enjoy the monkey.”

  Addy widened her eyes at his words. “For shame, Mr. Humbly. That monkey sent several maidens screaming in terror.”

  He contentedly munched on his third lemon tart. “Yes, it was the first moment all evening that the crowd had thinned enough to take in a breath.”

  “It was a crush,” she was forced to agree, recalling the numerous occasions her own toes had been trod upon and the oppressive heat.

  “I am only happy that you had the opportunity to dance and meet with old acquaintances.” Humbly tipped his head to one side, his expression faintly vague. “Was that not Lord Barclay you were speaking with?”

  Addy’s fingers tightened on her cup at the mention of the dashing Lord.

  “Yes.”

  “Such a charming gentleman, if somewhat of a rogue. I recall he once stayed with your parents.”

  Addy was rather surprised that the Vicar even recalled the fleeting visit. Lord Barclay was a notorious snob and religiously avoided the neighboring village and those among the countryside he considered beneath him, which included all but her family and the Drakes.

  “Yes, my mother wished to have him in one of her paintings.”

  “Quite understandable. He is very handsome.”

  Addy began to give a slow nod of her head, then with a faint sense of shock she realized that she did not care for the overly smooth features and pale blue eyes. There was no character upon his countenance, she acknowledged. Nothing but the shallow charm he used to his own advantage.

  “I suppose,” she said without any genuine enthusiasm.

  Humbly did not seem to notice as he sipped his tea. “And quite taken with you, my dear.”

  Addy felt a flare of impatience. Dear heavens, she had spoken with Lord Barclay for less than ten minutes. Why did everyone assume that there had been more to the encounter than a brief greeting between distant acquaintances?

  “He is a shocking flirt,” she said in impatient tones. “He was merely amusing himself.”

  “Was he?” Humbly arched his brows in bland curiosity. “That was quite a bouquet of roses he sent this morning.”

  Addy flicked an indifferent glance toward the ludicrous number of vases filled with pale pink roses. She had known from the moment the extravagant bouquet had arrived it had not been intended as a tribute to her. No gentleman sent such a lavish gift to a proper lady.

  Her first instinct had been to toss the lot of them out the back door. Only the knowledge that such a dramatic g
esture was bound to create gossip among the servants had made her grit her teeth and allow them to be placed throughout the salon.

  “He merely sent them to annoy Adam,” she said with an edge of distaste. “For some reason the two of them detest one another.”

  “Do they?” Humbly took another hasty sip of his tea. “How very odd.”

  Odd?

  More like annoying, ridiculous, and thoroughly without the least amount of sense, she told herself.

  “Yes, it is,” she said stoutly. “I suppose I shall never comprehend the workings of a gentleman’s mind.”

  “I fear it is a rather tangled mess,” the Vicar agreed in sympathy.

  Swiftly realizing she had just insulted her guest, Addy widened her eyes with remorse.

  “Oh, I was not referring to you, Mr. Humbly,” she apologized. “You possess a very fine mind.”

  A hint of amusement glittered in the sherry eyes. “Thank you, my dear.”

  “If only all gentleman could be so rational and kindly tempered,” she said with genuine longing. Heaven knew that her life would be considerably less nerve-wracking if Adam possessed this gentleman’s sweet compassion.

  “Ah well, I am old and well past the age when my pride is easily wounded and my heart cast into turmoil,” he said gently. “A young gentleman is rarely rational when dealing with a maiden.”

  Her brows drew together. She did not believe for a moment that Adam’s heart was in any way involved. But there was no doubting that he possessed more than his fair share of pride.

  “It is all very maddening.”

  Humbly smiled with a gentle understanding. “Do not fear, Addy. All will be well.” He leaned forward to regard the remaining tart. “Do you suppose I might have one more of those delicious tarts?”

  Addy smiled ruefully. “Of course.”

  “Ah.” Leaning back Humbly consumed the treat with obvious delight. “Your cook is a wonderful, wonderful woman.”

  Watching the old man’s enjoyment, Addy did not hear the door softly open. Then a warning prickle raced over her skin making her head turn to discover Adam standing in the center of the room.

  Although he was attired in a plain gray coat and gray striped waistcoat, there was nothing inconspicuous about his large male form. If anything the stark clothing only emphasized the chiseled strength of his broad chest and long legs. And, of course, there was nothing that could disguise the shimmering power of his mere presence. It was as much a part of him as the smoke gray eyes and hint of curl in the dark hair.