Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  Just for a moment, their gazes met in silence. His probing, and hers wary, as they both attempted to gauge the other’s temperament. Her breath seemed to catch as he took a step toward her then the spell was broken as Humbly abruptly noted his presence.

  “Adam, welcome home.”

  With a faint shake of his head Adam turned from Addy and offered his guest a half bow.

  “Thank you, Humbly. I trust Addy has kept you well entertained today?”

  “Actually she has proven to be a dreadful taskmaster,” the older man lightly teased. “I had no notion that completing a simple portrait could be so draining.”

  A faint smile touched Adam’s lips. “It seems as if you are in need of a few hours reprieve. Perhaps you would care to join me at my club for dinner?”

  Humbly obviously brightened at the notion. “Certainly. I should enjoy that very much.”

  “Good. I shall change and we will be on our way.”

  Barely aware that she was moving, Addy rose to her feet. She told herself that she was relieved Adam would not be spending the evening at home. Already she could feel her stomach tightening at having him in the same room. It would be a pleasure to enjoy a quiet dinner and perhaps read the new novel she had discovered at Hatchard’s the previous week.

  Yes, she should be delighted, so why did she feel that treacherous pang of disappointment?

  “I should tell Cook you will not be here for dinner,” she said with what she hoped was a passable smile. “Excuse me.”

  Not even glancing toward Adam, Addy turned to make her way through the still open door. She had taken several steps down the hall when she was halted by the sound of her name being called.

  “Addy.”

  She paused for a full moment, before slowly turning to regard her husband. “Yes?”

  “May I have a moment?”

  She briefly considered a number of suitable excuses to escape.

  She was feeling violently ill.

  The kitchen was on fire.

  Napoleon had landed.

  But one glance into the steel gray of his eyes assured her that he would not be put off if the ceiling were tumbling about their heads.

  “If you wish,” she managed in even tones.

  Moving forward he took her elbow and firmly steered her into the empty library. Once inside he closed the door and stepped away to regard her with a steady gaze.

  “I owe you an apology,” he at last said in abrupt tones.

  It was not at all what Addy had been expecting and she discovered herself staring at him as if she were a half-wit.

  “An apology?”

  His lips twisted as he lifted one broad shoulder. “I did not intend to ruin your evening last night. My only excuse is that I have never cared for Lord Barclay.”

  Addy shifted her feet, not yet prepared to discuss their fiery confrontation.

  “It hardly matters now.”

  “It does,” he insisted, taking a step closer. “I wished you to have an evening that you could enjoy. At the time, however, I could only think of how many poor maidens that wretch has managed to embroil in scandal.”

  Had he simply apologized, Addy would have been happy to put the simmering anger to rest. She did not enjoy the prickling strain between them any more than Adam did. But once again he managed to flick her raw pride with his implication she was not to be trusted on her own.

  “I am quite capable of avoiding scandal, regardless of what you believe.”

  The gray eyes flashed at the edge in her voice.

  “I never believed that you would deliberately court scandal, Addy. But not even you can deny that Lord Barclay is precisely the sort of charming rascal who can turn the head of the most sensible lady.”

  She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. “I am a married lady.”

  The handsome features hardened. “Yes, but I am not so arrogant as to ignore the knowledge it was a marriage of necessity, not choice. You had no desire to wed me.”

  The sheer injustice of his words nearly stole her breath.

  “You were hardly eager to take me as a bride,” she retorted tartly.

  A hint of impatience rippled over his countenance at her stubborn refusal to confess he had the right to question her loyalty.

  “Which makes our situation all the more precarious. We must both make an effort at patience and understanding. It will take time to establish a relationship of complete trust.”

  Her chin tilted in defensive anger. “I am not the one who does not trust, Adam.”

  The male form stiffened as her sharp words rang through the vast room.

  At last his lips curved into a humorless smile.

  “Nor do you care, Addy.” He offered her a bow. “Excuse me, I must change.”

  Addy watched in silence as he left the room, his back rigid and a dark cloud nearly visible about his large form.

  Blast.

  The last thing she had intended was to spark another argument. She had promised herself when she had left her chambers that morning, that she would ensure the calm, if somewhat icy atmosphere would be restored.

  But somehow that calm seemed wretchedly elusive.

  It was as if a protective wall between the two of them had been tumbled away to expose all the emotions that they had battled to keep protected.

  And for the life of her she did not know how to repair the damage.

  * * *

  Sprawled in a well-cushioned seat, Adam watched as Humbly eagerly studied the nearly empty room. After dining upon beef steak and discussing the latest politics with a few of his own cronies, Adam had deliberately steered the cheerful Vicar past the crowded card rooms to this small parlor at the back of the club. Although Humbly could reveal startling flashes of worldly wisdom he was still a country innocent that might very well be shocked by the rough talk and deep play of the town dandies.

  Not seeming to mind their isolation from the other guests, Humbly sighed with obvious pleasure.

  “How very pleasant this is.”

  “It is peaceful,” Adam agreed. “At least on most occasions. There are always evenings when a few bucks overindulge and create a scene. Or a dispute arises at the card tables.”

  Humbly gave a dismissive shrug. “Rather inevitable occurrences when a large number of gentleman are gathered together without the restraining influence of ladies. It reminds me somewhat of my schooldays.”

  Adam ruefully recalled his days at Oxford. “Thankfully without the ready beatings of the upperclassmen.”

  “True enough.” Humbly chuckled.

  With a ghostly silence a waiter appeared at Adam’s side, bearing a silver tray that he set on a small table.

  “Your brandy, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Pouring two glasses of the fiery spirit he leaned forward to offer one to the Vicar. “Humbly.”

  Accepting his brandy, Humbly took a tentative sip and smiled in satisfaction.

  “Ah, this is also a pleasant difference from schooldays,” he murmured, settling back in his seat. “The brandy we would slip into our rooms was always of the most inferior quality.”

  Adam did not bother to hide his start of surprise. “Do not tell me you indulged in such shocking behavior?”

  “I fear so.” Humbly smiled nostalgically. “I was quite a rapscallion when I was young. More than once I was put to bed drunk as an emperor or lost my allowance in a card game. I was even sent down once for absconding with the headmaster’s stash of cigars and sharing them with my friends.”

  Adam found it nearly impossible to believe the mild-mannered gentleman could ever have created such havoc. Even during the tumultuous years of youth.

  “Good God, was your father furious?” he asked, shuddering at the mere thought of his own father’s frigid disapproval.

  “Actually he was surprisingly understanding,” Humbly confessed. “He firmly believed that a gentleman should indulge his impulses when he was young. It did not take me long to tire of awakening with a thick head or
rue the loss of my meager allowance. Being able to discover the truth for myself rather than being bullied into behaving had a far more lasting influence.”

  A vague sense of suspicion fluttered at the edge of Adam’s mind.

  Although Humbly rarely attempted to strong-arm his flock or badger them with prosy lectures, he did have a most subtle means of leading them down the path he desired. And he usually managed to do so without the victim ever suspecting that they were not making their own decisions every step of the way.

  “I suppose that is true enough,” he cautiously agreed.

  “And, of course, I only had to be kicked in the head by our mule once to learn not to stand behind the beast,” Humbly continued in a wry tone.

  Adam abruptly took a large gulp of brandy. The reference to a mule abruptly reminded him of his stubborn wife. Hardly flattering he had to admit, but at the moment he was in no mood to be charitable.

  Did the ungrateful woman have no notion how difficult it had been to seek her out and apologize? It had taken him the entire day to thrust aside his pride and convince himself that peace with his wife was worth any price.

  And what had she done to thank him for his efforts?

  She had tossed his apology back into his face and bristled with an outrage that was incomprehensible.

  Of course, he was beginning to believe everything about Addy was incomprehensible.

  His hand tightened upon his glass, but even as the surge of self-righteous anger raced through him, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind that Addy was not entirely to blame.

  There would have been no need to apologize if he had not lost his head like a buffoon. He prided himself on his calm logic, but there had been nothing calm or logical about his reaction to seeing Lord Barclay hovering over his wife.

  Rather than waiting to deliver his warning to Addy in the privacy of their own home, he had flown across the room like a demented husband and created precisely the sort of antagonism within Addy he had been most determined to avoid.

  He heaved a faint sigh. “I wish I were so swift to learn from my mistakes,” he muttered.

  “Do you speak of Addy?” the Vicar demanded with surprising perception.

  Adam sighed again. “Yes, I fear I made a hash of last evening. I intended to provide her with an opportunity to laugh and mingle with others. Instead I merely pushed her further away.”

  “She did not wish to be warned from Lord Barclay?”

  Adam’s lips thinned at Addy’s stormy reaction. “No. Indeed, she was deeply offended at the thought I did not trust her.”

  “And do you trust her?” Humbly demanded in soft tones.

  Adam felt a restless impatience rush through him.

  He was not a villain.

  He was simply wise enough to regard his marriage without ridiculous expectations.

  “I think the notion of a flirtation with a handsome and charming rake would be a temptation for any lady. Especially one who finds her own husband tediously dull.”

  “Perhaps she needs to be kicked in the head by a mule.”

  Adam blinked in surprise at the absurd suggestion.

  He might desire to shake some sense into her, but not even he would desire her to be kicked in her lovely head.

  “What did you say?”

  Humbly appeared a bit sheepish. “Well, we were discussing an effective means of learning a much needed lesson.”

  “I do not believe Addy often stands behind mules, although she is as stubborn as one,” Adam retorted dryly.

  “I was thinking more in terms of discovering the truth about rakes.”

  Adam once again felt a prickle of suspicion that he was being nudged in a direction he did not wish to take.

  “And what truth is that?”

  Humbly smiled with sweet innocence. “That they are all very well to dance the waltz with, or to take along on a drive through the park, but they are notoriously unfaithful and overly inclined to indulge their own pleasure.”

  “Obviously. That is why they are considered rakes.”

  “I believe Addy has forgotten just how uncomfortable it is to have a rake about. Perhaps you should remind her.”

  Adam’s brows snapped together. “You are surely not suggesting I encourage a connection between my wife and Lord Barclay?”

  “Goodness, no.”

  “Good.” Adam’s countenance hardened. “Because I would put a bullet through the scoundrel before I would allow him close to Addy.”

  The Vicar’s lips seemed to twitch at his fierce words, but his expression remained unchanged.

  “No. I am suggesting that you become the rake.”

  “A rake? Me?” Adam recoiled in disbelief. “You must be mad.”

  “Well, I suppose there are those who would agree with that,” Humbly said wryly. “But I am merely attempting to consider the simplest solution to your troubles. You fear that Addy finds you dull and might be tempted by a rake, so why not reveal just how unpleasant life could be if you were indeed less honorable and dependable?”

  Adam wondered if the Vicar was sipping his brandy a bit too swiftly.

  “It is absurd.”

  “So is chastising your wife in the midst of a ball,” Humbly retorted pointedly.

  The thrust slid directly home and Adam briefly closed his eyes as he accepted the pang of guilt.

  He could not deny that his own methods of dealing with Addy had been a spectacular failure. On every occasion he had managed to do precisely the wrong thing.

  Could it be any worse to follow Humbly’s ludicrous suggestion?

  Could he indeed reveal to Addy that there were more terrible fates than possessing a husband who was loyal and faithful?

  He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Gads, I do not know.”

  “At least give it some thought,” Humbly said gently.

  Adam smiled without humor. “Well one thing is certain, I could not create a greater muddle than I have already.”

  Humbly gave a sudden chuckle. “And who knows, you might decide there is something to be said for indulging in a bit of nonsense now and then.”

  Adam grimaced, not at all certain he wasn’t the one who was mad.

  “We shall see.”

  Chapter Five

  The night might have come straight from a Gothic novel.

  Lightning slashed the midnight sky, followed closely by crashing thunder that rattled the windows and made Addy’s teeth clench in unease. Even the wind howled with a mighty force, slashing the rain against the townhouse and making the shutters bang in an ominous fashion.

  Huddled beside the blazing fire, Addy pulled her robe closer about her body.

  She had gone to bed long ago, after a lonely dinner and hours spent staring at the same page of her novel. She had been determined not to be discovered by Adam and Mr. Humbly awaiting their return like a pathetic waif.

  It had been no good, however.

  After tossing and turning for hours as she strained to hear the sound of Adam’s carriage, Addy had at last risen from her bed and made her way downstairs. With such a storm raging outside no one would find it odd that she was too nervous to sleep.

  Glancing toward the delicate Louis XIV clock on the mantel Addy clenched her hands in her lap.

  Two o’clock.

  Where the blazes was Adam?

  He never visited his club without returning punctually at midnight. It was, in fact, a source of irritation to her at the manner in which he could always be depended upon to step through the door just as the clock would strike the hour. Never a minute early, never a minute late.

  It was unnatural.

  But this evening she realized that it was far more irritating not to have the slightest notion where Adam was. Or even what he might be doing.

  Surely he realized that she would be concerned at such uncharacteristic behavior?

  A soft knock on the door followed by the familiar form of the housekeeper had Addy hastily smoothing her expression to a calm indif
ference. She would not allow anyone to realize she was riddled with unease.

  “Would you care for more tea, Mrs. Drake?” the older woman demanded.

  Addy glanced toward the pot of tea that had long ago grown cold. “Thank you, no.”

  The room was abruptly lit by a jagged flash of lightning. With a click of her tongue the housekeeper moved to pull the curtains closed.

  “A nasty night. Far too nasty to be out.”

  Addy smiled wryly, realizing she was not the only one being kept from her sleep by Adam’s absence.

  “Why do you not go to bed, Mrs. Hall? Chatson will see to Mr. Drake and Mr. Humbly when they return.”

  “I can not think what is keeping them,” Mrs. Hall burst out. “Mr. Drake is always home by midnight.”

  Addy forced a stiff smile to her lips. “No doubt he and his guest are enjoying themselves and have simply lost track of time.”

  The housekeeper gave a loud sniff at the offhand explanation. “I have never known Mr. Drake to lose track of time. He is very particular about that sort of thing.”

  Obsessive more like, Addy inwardly corrected.

  “Yes.”

  “I fear that they may have been set upon by footpads. Or suffered an accident in this foul weather.”

  They were fears that had run through Addy’s own mind more than once. London could be a dangerous place at night with any number of criminals willing to attack a lone coach. And of course, the weather was indeed ghastly enough to have caused an accident.

  But then common sense had intruded.

  If something had occurred at least one of the grooms would surely return to the house and inform her. Or even a passerby.

  “I am certain they are fine, Mrs. Hall,” she said in tones that held more confidence than she felt. “Go to bed and I promise I will call if I hear anything.”

  “It’s queer if you ask me,” the older woman grumbled, as she made her way to the door. “Very queer.”

  Waiting until Mrs. Hall had left the room, Addy gave a shake of her head and returned her gaze to the dancing flames.