Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  Her eyes darkened with dismay. “I did not mean that.”

  “Forgive me, Addy.” He gave a rueful grimace. “In truth I have given you little reason to suppose I am a considerate husband.”

  She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “That is not true. You have always been very generous. Both to me and my family.”

  He gave a shake of his head, his hand covering her own. “I am not speaking of money. I should have been more sensitive to the knowledge you were alone in this house with no one to ease your isolation.”

  Her features seemed to magically soften. “Well now I shall be very busy, indeed.”

  Adam glanced about the cheerful room. It was no wild meadow with a handful of ruins, but it had pleased her. And that was all he desired for the moment.

  “And perhaps somewhat more content with your days,” he suggested.

  “Yes.” She offered a tentative smile. “I am sure I shall be.”

  Adam felt his heart swell as he reached up to gently cup her cheek.

  “That would please me very much.”

  Her eyes darkened as she gazed into his smiling countenance.

  “Adam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome, my dear,” he said in husky tones, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her sweet lips.

  Would she be shocked at being made love to by her husband in the middle of the day?

  Or would she melt in his arms as she had done last evening?

  Determined to discover, Adam was frustratingly interrupted when there was a knock on the door and a footman entered the room.

  “Pardon me, sir.”

  Gritting his teeth Adam dropped his hand and stepped from his fiercely blushing bride. Hell and damnation. Would he ever get this woman in his bed?

  “Yes?”

  “A note has just been delivered for you.” The young servant held out the folded paper, clearly embarrassed at having intruded at such an awkward moment.

  Adam wryly grimaced as he reached for the note. It was not the footman’s fault that he was finding it a delicate and nerve-wracking experience to seduce his own wife.

  “Thank you.” Waiting for the servant to slip from the room, Adam unfolded the paper and swiftly read the brief message. His heart sank as he realized it was imperative that he leave for the War Department. “Damn.”

  “What is it?” Addy demanded.

  “It is from Liverpool.”

  “Is there trouble?”

  “No.” Adam shoved the note in his pocket and reached out to take her hand in his own. “But they have received dispatches from the Continent. He wishes me to come to his office to review them.”

  Although he was prepared for the hardening of her countenance and return of her wary distance, Adam felt a pang of disappointment.

  Just for a moment there had been a true connection between them. Her defenses had been lowered and he had been allowed to sense the vulnerable woman beneath her prickly composure.

  Now he could not help but wonder if all his efforts were to be destroyed.

  “Then you must go,” she said in stiff tones.

  Adam lifted a hand to rub the tense muscles of his neck.

  “We were suppose to attend the theater this evening.”

  She gave a faint shrug. “We shall go some other night.”

  “Yes.” Knowing that he could not avoid his duty despite his desire to remain with Addy, Adam squared his shoulders. “I shall no doubt be very late.”

  The familiar air of disinterest settled about her like a shroud.

  “Mr. Humbly will be here to keep me company.”

  Adam choked back a sigh of frustration. “I am sorry, Addy.”

  “Please, you must go,” she said coolly.

  Adam gave a nod of his head. There was really nothing left to say. Nothing that would ease the tension that was choking the air.

  “I shall see you later.”

  Charter Nine

  Watching Adam leave the room, Addy instantly regretted her cold dismissal.

  Lud, he had been so very kind, she silently chastised herself.

  To think he would go to such an effort to surprise her with this lovely studio . . . it had touched her in a manner that she could barely express.

  Never had anyone taken such care to please her.

  Certainly not her parents who had always been far too concerned with their own pleasure to consider others. Or even her siblings who were as feckless and indifferent as their parents.

  She had been nearly overwhelmed by the delight that had rushed through her when she had stepped into the room. She had not even known how to properly express her gratitude.

  Then without warning the footman had intruded into their privacy and the tenuous peace that had momentarily bloomed between them was destroyed.

  Addy had known precisely what the note would contain. She had also known that Adam would not decline the summons to make an appearance at the War Department.

  What she had not expected was the sharp edged disappointment that had cut through her like a knife.

  She had wanted him to toss the note in the fire. To gaze into her eyes and declare that he would remain at her side.

  The fierce pang had frightened her with its intensity. Certainly she had always been annoyed by his decided preference to avoid her. What woman would not resent being ignored? But this . . . this struck perilously close to her heart.

  In response she had discovered herself hastily retreating from the warmth between them. It had been utterly instinctive and it was not until Adam had wearily left the room that she had been struck by regret.

  She had not meant to ruin his obvious overture. She wished that she had attempted to be more understanding.

  And now it was too late.

  Feeling restless and oddly dissatisfied, Addy discovered herself pacing the house. Moving from one room to another she sought some means of distracting her dark mood. She had to do something or go mad.

  At last she called for the carriage and along with Mr. Humbly she set off for an afternoon of shopping. Surely being out of the house would help to ease her tension.

  Dropping Mr. Humbly at a shop to replace his lost hat and cravats, Addy proceeded to the exclusive seamstress that she had discovered was all the rage. She hoped that choosing a new gown would lift her spirits.

  Not surprisingly, the seamstress was anxious to please the wife of Mr. Drake.

  Leaving her assistant with the clutch of debutantes admiring the latest bonnets, the rotund woman steered Addy to a counter where she had piled several bolts of material.

  “What of this?” the seamstress purred, running a hand over a delicate muslin material. “It is a lovely shade of peach.”

  It was lovely.

  Elegant, subdued, and quite proper for a true lady.

  Addy, however, was swift to shake her head in refusal.

  She had an endless number of elegant, subdued and proper gowns. Without quite knowing why she suddenly longed for a brilliant, eye-catching gown. A gown that would stir the interest of the most indifferent gentleman.

  The dangerous thought was swiftly squashed as Addy tapped an impatient finger upon the counter.

  “I was thinking of something a bit bolder.”

  “Of course.” The woman smiled in a knowing manner. “I believe that I have just the thing.”

  With a an efficient movement the seamstress disappeared from the room returning in a blink of an eye with a satin material in a deep shimmering blue.

  Addy caught her breath in pleasure, reaching out to stroke the lovely material.

  It was perfect.

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps with some military fobbing and brass buttons upon the pelisse?” the woman suggested.

  Addy gave a slow nod of her head, already visualizing the walking dress in her mind.

  “I think that would be lovely.”

  A true businesswoman, the seamstress smi
led in a coy manner.

  “And a matching bonnet, of course.”

  Addy gave an inward shrug. There was little point in ordering a new gown if she did not have a bonnet to set it off.

  “Of course,” she said in decisive tones.

  Folding the material, the seamstress casually glanced toward the back of the shop.

  “I do have several new silks that would be perfect for a ball gown.”

  Addy gave a faint smile. “I shall return later in the week to view them.”

  “Very good. I shall have your new gown ready for a fitting.”

  “Thank you.”

  Pleased with her choice, Addy collected her reticule and made her way toward the door. She was forced to halt as a maid suddenly shoved the door open and an elegant Titan-haired woman swept into the shop.

  Addy felt her heart drop to the tips of her toes as she recognized the lovely countenance of Mrs. Wilton.

  Blast. Of all the people in London, this woman was the very last one she wished to encounter.

  Still, her pride demanded that she not slink past the woman as if she were some cowardly schoolgirl. Instead, she squared her shoulders and met the glittering gaze as Mrs. Wilton halted before her.

  “Mrs. Drake,” the older woman exclaimed in mocking surprise.

  Addy allowed a cold smile to touch her lips. “Mrs. Wilton.”

  “I certainly did not expect to encounter you here,” the woman drawled.

  “Really? I am told that Mrs. Manson is quite popular this season.”

  “She is, of course, but I thought that you did not care to leave your house.”

  Knowing Mrs. Wilton was deliberately attempting to get a rise out of her, Addy determinedly reined in her ready temper.

  “I cannot imagine where you came by such a notion.”

  “Well, I have never seen you shopping or even visiting about town. To tell the truth, there was a rumor that Adam kept you locked away.”

  Addy tilted her chin in disdain. “How utterly ridiculous. Adam would never treat me with anything but the most tender care. Unlike many gentlemen, he is a most devoted husband.”

  Her deliberate thrust slid home and Mrs. Wilton’s countenance hardened. The spiteful vixen, however, was not about to be outdone.

  “Then I suppose the nasty rumors that Adam spends his days at the War Department and his evenings at his club are also untrue?”

  Addy flinched, but her smile never faltered. Gads, but she wanted to slap the smug smile from the lovely face. Or perhaps wrench out a few of those suspiciously red curls.

  “Quite untrue,” she blatantly lied instead.

  “If you say so,” the woman mocked. “Although I suppose most abandoned wives would deny their husbands prefer the comfort of their clubs to the comfort of their marriage bed.”

  First the slap, and then the hair, Addy silently plotted her strategy. And then maybe a kick to the rather wide derriere.

  “I would think you have better things to do with your time than to gossip about my husband, Mrs. Wilton.”

  The older woman shrugged. “It is difficult to avoid the latest scandals. And I will admit that I have always held a certain fondness for Adam. It broke my heart to learn that he had been forced into marriage with a woman he was ashamed to allow out the front door.”

  “Adam is not ashamed of me,” she said in icy, concise tones. “Although I do begin to comprehend his warning of not going about London on my own. There is no telling when or where one might stumble across some venomous creature.”

  A dull flush darkened the thin countenance as Mrs. Wilton gave an angry sniff.

  “Return to your townhouse, Mrs. Drake,” she hissed. “Adam already avoids your company. It will not be long before he begins to seek a warm and willing lady to offer him companionship. A companionship that a petulant child could never offer.”

  With a toss of her head Mrs. Wilton continued into the shop, leaving behind an oddly shaken Addy.

  Standing completely still she felt the breath slowly being leached from her body.

  She should be laughing aside the woman’s poisonous barbs, she told herself weakly. Mrs. Wilton had merely been striking out blindly in the hopes of distressing her. Such women were born troublemakers.

  But oddly, Addy found it impossible to ignore the sharp words.

  A petulant child . . .

  The ugly words had struck a nerve deep within Addy.

  Dear heavens, how could she deny such a charge when it was so painfully true?

  With a blinding clarity she suddenly realized that she had behaved as a petulant child since her marriage to Adam. Perhaps not consciously, she thought, as she attempted to soothe her sudden bout of guilt. But there was no doubt she had been resentful and increasingly frigid over the past few months.

  She had not desired to wed Adam. His arrogant commands of what he expected of his wife had only fueled her anger at being sacrificed for the sake of her family.

  In turn she had determined to ensure that Adam fully realized she was his wife only under sufferance. She would make no effort to ease the strain between them. Or to seek a closer bond.

  She found it ridiculous, in her anger, that she had never stopped to think her behavior was creating as much discomfort for herself as for Adam. Or that she was willfully pushing him to seek solace from another.

  A shudder swept through her body as she recalled her cold indifference to his presence in her bed.

  How long would any gentleman tolerate such rebuffs before turning to the warmth of welcoming arms?

  Warmth that was blatantly offered by women such as Mrs. Wilton?

  A cold ball of fear settled in the pit of her stomach.

  What had she been thinking about?

  Or more to the point, not thinking about?

  Even now Adam could be seeking a mistress to ease the need to be desired.

  That could be the reason he had been acting so oddly. Adam was far too honorable to contemplate breaking his marriage vows without a few pangs of guilt.

  “Addy. Addy, my dear, have you finished your shopping?”

  With a blink, Addy allowed her gaze to focus upon the rumpled gentleman standing before her.

  A hint of color touched her cheeks as she realized she had been standing at the door and staring at nothing like a common nodcock.

  “Yes.”

  Firmly taking command of herself, Addy allowed the Vicar to escort her out of the shop and into the waiting carriage. Within moments they were plodding their way through the heavy London traffic.

  Settling back in his seat, Mr. Humbly regarded her with a searching gaze.

  “Was that not Mrs. Wilton in the shop?”

  Addy curled her hands into tiny fists. “It was.”

  “What an odd coincidence.”

  Addy grimaced. “More unfortunate than odd.”

  “I hope she has not said anything to upset you?”

  Addy knew she should hold her tongue, but the emotions that Mrs. Wilton had stirred to life were too much to contain.

  “She upsets others by simply opening her mouth. She is a vile, unpleasant woman.”

  “No.” Humbly gave a slow shake of his head. “I would say instead that she is a jealous, bitter woman.”

  His words caught Addy off guard. “Jealous? Of me?”

  “Of course.” The round countenance held a pensive expression. “By all reports her husband was nearly double her age and possessed a quarrelsome nature. It is also said that he drank heavily during the last few years of his life, commonly creating ugly scenes among society. Mrs. Wilton paid dearly to achieve her current status, while you were given a husband who is not only handsome, but of an even temperament. She no doubt feels that it is unfair that you have been so fortunate.”

  “I do hope that you do not expect me to sympathize with that jade,” Addy retorted with a supreme lack of pity for the older woman. “She as good as announced she intended to seduce my husband.”

  Humbly gave a chok
ed cough at her blunt words. “I would guess that Adam might have something to say about that.”

  Addy felt that cold ball once again in her stomach. “Yes.”

  “You do not sound so certain.” The gray brows lowered into a frown. “Surely you trust Adam?”

  “It is not that,” she was swift to protest. “But Mrs. Wilton is very beautiful.”

  “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

  “Thank you.” Addy smiled with wry disbelief, knowing he was merely being kind. “Still I am not sophisticated or experienced enough in how best to keep a gentleman’s interest.”

  “Addy, you are being absurd,” Mr. Humbly chastised gently.

  Addy sincerely hoped that she was. The mere thought of Adam lying in the arms of Mrs. Wilton was enough to make her feel as if she had been kicked by a very large, very angry mule.

  “Am I?” she demanded, her eyes dark with her inner turmoil. “You saw Adam at the soiree. Perhaps he has grown bored with me.”

  “Bored? How could he possibly grow bored with a lovely, utterly enchanting bride?”

  Addy’s breath caught in her throat. “I am not always enchanting, I fear. Indeed, I . . .”

  “Yes?”

  She flushed as she realized she could not possibly admit her lack of response to Adam’s touch.

  “Nothing.”

  Leaning forward the Vicar gently patted her hand.

  “You are fretting over nothing, my dear,” he assured her firmly, then he offered her a sweet smile. “Now, shall we stop at Gunter’s for a special treat?”

  * * *

  Adam felt weary to his very bones.

  For the entire day he had been closeted with several cabinet members in a cramped office, poring over the packet of missives that had arrived. There had been the usual arguments, at times almost violent, as they attempted to sort through the success and failures of the troops. And, of course, the endless wrangling as they plotted the fresh orders that were to be sent.

  Adam had discovered himself surprisingly short-tempered as the politicians had battled to gain the upper hand. More than once he wanted to damn them to the netherworld as they angled for the best means of furthering their own positions, rather than concerning themselves with the brave soldiers who were risking their lives.

  The War Department was no place for ambition or greed, he had longed to shout over the babbling voices.