“Sebastian came to see you?”
She nodded, her curls bouncing in sad contrast to her crumpled face. “He said . . . such . . . awful . . . things. H-h-how could he think that ab-b-bout me?”
“He’s just upset. Information was kept from him, and now that he’s found out, he’s assuming the worst.” Adam pulled the chair a little closer to the bed and sat down. He held her small hand between his two large ones.
“You have to t-t-tell him—”
“I tried. He’s not overly fond of me right now.”
A figure passed in the hallway, then stopped and came back. Adam assumed it was Foster, but when he looked, Lord Clairborne was standing in doorway he’d left open for propriety. He was looking at Regina’s hand clasped in Adam’s.
Regina pulled it free, wiping away her tears and patting at her hair. She put on an unconvincing smile. “Gerald. What a lovely surprise!”
His father continued to look between the two of them, eyes narrowed.
Pretending everything was all right—Regina’s preferred method—was not going to suffice. “Someone told Sebastian why I was sent away. He had words for us both.”
“Ahh.” Lord Clairborne turned on his heel and left.
Adam wanted to go after him—to shout at him—but for once it wasn’t his father’s fault. Sending Adam away had been the right thing to do to rid him of his feelings for Regina. It had also been the right thing for Adam, who couldn’t imagine having spent the last ten years going to parties and spending his time with the Pembrokes of the world. Not telling Sebastian might not have been the right thing, but Adam wouldn’t have done that any differently, either.
“He’s a good husband, you know.” Regina was watching him.
“Don’t. Don’t lie for him.”
“I’m not. He’s a good husband.”
“He ignores you.”
She shook her head. “He’s made me a mother to two wonderful sons, given me everything I’ve ever asked for, and he leaves me to pursue my own interests.”
A fancy way of saying he neglected her.
“Can you think of another man who would let you sit by my bedside after everything that’s happened?”
“We would never—”
“We know that. And he knows it makes me happy to have you sit with me. And so he allows it. But do you think he likes it, having to wonder about his own son and his wife?”
He shouldn’t wonder at all. Beyond feelings Adam couldn’t control, nothing improper had ever occurred.
Regina sighed. “We married for advantage, not for affection, and he has treated me with kindness and respect. Judge him for the sort of father he is if you must—that’s your right—but it’s high time you left off judging him as a husband. That’s my right, and I have told you I am happy.”
There were things Adam would never be able to forgive—things that would always be between them. “I’ll try.”
“Will you also try to make things right with Sebastian?”
“How? He doesn’t want to see me.”
“There’s a house party at Lady Cavendish’s next week. I don’t know her well enough to ask, but if you could find a way to be invited . . .”
A house party. Trapped for days with a bunch of pinch-faced socialites. “And if not?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if a week away will calm him or deepen his resentment.”
Adam’s guess was the latter. Most likely it was one of his friends who had told him the truth about Adam’s exile. Any house party was likely to include the same friends, who would not be preaching tolerance and sense.
“I’ll figure something out.” But first there was something of his own that had to be resolved.
Adam said his good-byes and went downstairs to the study. Per usual, his father was behind his desk, plotting the course of the empire. “Lord Clairborne.”
“Yes?” He didn’t look up.
It was infuriating. Everything about the man was infuriating. “She needs you, you know.”
He looked up then. “She has me.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant, and quite frankly, it’s none of your business.”
Adam shook his head, wanting so desperately to strangle some feeling into the man. “She has a heart condition. Do you even notice or care?”
Lord Clairborne put down his papers. “Lady Clairborne’s condition is due to a weakness in her heart’s ability to pump enough blood through her body. When she is distraught or experiences emotional extremes, it puts additional stress on the defective muscle.”
“A recitation of facts is hardly evidence of caring.”
His father stood up, coming around the desk. “In the morning, she takes an inhalation of herbs from an Eastern specialist I hired to open up her pathways so her heart doesn’t have to work so hard. Every afternoon at four she is visited by the queen’s personal physician. Did she say she was neglected?”
That was more than Adam knew. “No, but—”
“But you thought because you came back after a decade of silence and brought her tea from some hustler in Mayfair that you were the white knight savior, bestowing compassion wherever you walk.” His father sneered.
A war of emotions occurred in Adam. He hated his father, hated the expression on his face and the acid in his tone, but . . . but there was truth there that even Adam could hear.
“If you care, why are you never with her?”
“I respect my wife, but we are not close. It embarrasses her for me to see her indisposed.”
And so he kept his distance and let Regina keep her dignity. Adam knew her well enough to know that was a kindness.
“Do not for a second believe that your distractible affections are somehow more honorable than my constant care,” Lord Clairborne said before resuming his seat and his composure.
It galled him to admit his father was right. He was still wrong about so many things, but not about this. “I’m sorry, Lord Clairborne. You were correct. I had no right.”
His father looked up. Adam thought he might say something—maybe something to answer Adam’s apology, something that might start breaching their long-held stalemate. But he just nodded, bending back over his work.
Chapter 15
When Jane returned to St. James’s Square with Charlie, Adam was waiting for them. He was standing by the edge of the fountain that dominated the center of the square so as not to be sitting on her stoop, but he was waiting in plain sight of her front door. As the carriage pulled up, he crossed the street.
She was glad to see him. She had excellent news, and she was dying to share it. “Adam! I bought a horse. A gorgeous black horse with white forelocks and excellent lines.”
“You only know it has excellent lines because I told you,” Charlie said over his shoulder as he walked up the steps to the front door.
“Ignore him. I’m going to learn about excellent lines. I may start a stable of my own once we reopen the Sussex house.”
“You mean my money will start a stable, and you will meddle incessantly,” Charlie called again.
She turned, shouting up the stairs, “It was my money you used to make your money, so your money is mine, too. And I’ll spend it if I want!”
When she turned back, Adam had a crooked half smile on his face.
“Forgive me. I’ve decided to have more of a say in my life, and it’s sort of taken on a mind of its own.”
The smile turned into a full smile. “I like it. It suits you.”
“I think so, too!” It was so much better than being nervous and angry all the time. She’d held so much inside. Letting it out felt so . . . freeing. “Were you visiting your parents?”
Just like that, his face fell. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” She realized she’d been shouting at Charli
e on the doorstep. Before, that fact would have mortified her.
They went inside, and Ambrose brought tea into the parlor. “What happened, Adam?”
He told her about Sebastian coming to his house, about the conversation with his stepmother, and the argument with his father. That he’d acted like an arrogant ass was not particularly surprising, nor was the fact that he felt such deep remorse. Adam was a complex man.
“So you need to make things right with your brother.”
He nodded. “I need your help.”
“Mine?” This was very much between them. Jane had never even met his stepmother.
“Sebastian likes you. He won’t speak with me, but perhaps . . .”
But perhaps he would speak to her. “You want to use me to trick your brother into listening.”
“In the nicest, most honorable of ways.”
She laughed. “You said yourself he’s going to be out of town.”
Adam’s awkward, fidgeting smile was not encouraging.
“You want me to go Lady Cavendish’s house party.” To a house party that would inevitably include Drusilla and Geoffrey, and if Adam was successful, would involve him abandoning her with them while he tried to make amends with his brother. “I can think of nothing more awful. And besides, I’m not invited.”
“You’re going to a house party?” Mathilda came in the room, smiling when she saw Adam. “Are you two arranging an assignation? House parties are lovely for that sort of thing.”
Adam flushed. “No, we’re—”
“Yes,” Jane declared. “I had great hopes of becoming completely scandalous, but sadly—I don’t have an invitation to Lady Cavendish’s house party. I will just have to stay home and behave.”
Mathilda sat down, leaning back against the settee. “Your friend Brandon is a particular friend of Lady Cavendish. I’m sure he could arrange it for you.”
“Brandon?” The hope in Adam’s expression was dear.
Meanwhile, Jane was cursing herself for teasing Aunt Matty. Now she would actually have to go. “Three of us will put the numbers off.”
Adam turned his brightest smile on Mathilda.
“Absolutely not. Nonstop socializing and nonstop corset wearing? You’re a lovely boy, but I’ve already given as many presents today as I intend to.”
Jane was surprised to see Adam let it go.
“What about Miss Davenport?” he asked.
Damn, damn, damn. Eugenia would be delighted at the idea of a house party—and so would her mother. “She might be busy.”
“Eugenia?” Mathilda’s expression was full of pity—for Eugenia’s social life or Jane’s delusions, it wasn’t clear. “Really, Jane.”
“Fine. But we still aren’t invited.” Adding four more bodies to a house party that was only a week away wasn’t exactly an easy feat.
“If I can arrange it you’ll go?” Adam asked.
Jane sighed. “Yes. If you can arrange it for all four of us, I’ll go.”
At least she wouldn’t be completely alone with Geoff and Drusilla. Not that Brandon would be much help, but Eugenia’s unique perspective was always a comfort.
Adam leapt up.
“You’re going?”
“I have to go see Brandon.”
“But—” She wanted to tell him more about her horse. And the trip to the continent she was going to take. And all the things she’d decided last night lying awake in her bed.
He made his farewells, coming over to kiss her cheek on his way out. Jane didn’t think he realized what he’d done, because he left in high spirits. Meanwhile, she was left in the parlor with Mathilda, who was staring at her with extremely raised eyebrows.
“That was rather affectionate—and natural seeming. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
Jane picked up her teacup, trying to look innocent. “Charlie and I bought a horse today.”
• • •
The tables in the café overlooked one of the busier streets in Mayfair. It was a nice distraction when one was dining alone, or not in the mood to make polite conversation. Or if one—in this case, Adam—didn’t know how to ask a very awkward question.
“Is this a social call, or do you want something from me?” Brandon asked from his sprawl near the window.
“What? I—”
“Because if you’re going to ask me for something—and you have that look—feeding me is an excellent way to start.”
Adam gave up trying to find a good way around it. “If you asked Lady Cavendish for an invitation to her house party next week, would she give you one?”
“I believe she would.”
“What if you asked her for four?”
Brandon’s eyebrows raised. He sipped his coffee. “Are we eating or not?”
Adam flagged down one of the staff. He ordered one of every food item they served.
“What you’re asking,” Brandon answered, “will come at a not-insignificant cost.”
“I can reimburse you for—”
“What Lady Cavendish will want in exchange isn’t procured from your bank.”
Oh. Oh. How badly did he want to help Sebastian? “I’m not sure I can foot that bill.”
“No, I don’t think you can. Nor do I think she’d want it from you—although . . .” Brandon looked him head to foot.
Adam was not studding himself out to Lady Cavendish. He would just have to find another way. And maybe it wasn’t the best idea for him and Jane to be sharing the same roof, in light of what Lady Hawthorne had said to him that morning.
“Oh, don’t look so dismal,” Brandon laughed. “I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“There’s loads of food at house parties, and anywhere is nicer than my flat. I don’t mind a week away from the city.”
It was done then. Well, almost. “When will you ask?”
“I can go after we eat. Who else needs an invitation?”
“Miss Bailey and Miss Davenport.”
Brandon almost spit out his coffee. “You want to unleash the Davenport girl on a house party?”
“She’s actually very enjoyable.”
“For an entire week? Uninterrupted?”
Adam was going to be the most hated man in England. “Jane’s aunt won’t go, and Jane said we need even numbers.”
“A shame about Lady Hawthorne, though . . . perhaps not. I’ll be too busy to enjoy her company anyway.”
The inner workings of Brandon’s existence were both deplorable and fascinating.
The food arrived, disrupting the discussion as a boy covered their table in dishes.
“This is marvelous,” Brandon said after he bit into something filled with cheese.
Adam had too much on his mind to have an appetite.
He and Jane were going to a house party. There would be ample opportunity for them to sneak off and try variations of his new plan, which was not likely to keep their attachment to each other minimal. She was already the person he wanted to tell his news to. If he had more memories of her touch on his skin, she’d take over his thoughts entirely.
“What?” Brandon asked. “It’s difficult to enjoy this when you’re sitting over there evoking gloom and doom.”
“You seem like you’re managing.” Half the plates were already bare.
“But it’s a struggle. What are you mulling?”
“I don’t want to hurt Jane.”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “Jane again. From where I’m sitting, you seem to be doing her a world of good.”
“But I’m going to go back to the colonies—sooner rather than later.”
“And?” Brandon gestured at him with a Danish. “Contrary to popular opinion, men and women are completely capable of enjoying each other’s company without ending up in front of a deacon.”
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“Only because all the women whose company you enjoy have already gone in front of one with someone else.”
“I’ll admit, it’s a convenient precautionary measure, but you don’t see anyone leaving their husbands for me, do you?”
In Adam’s experience, it took a great deal more than affection—even genuine love—to convince a woman to leave her husband. “No.”
“And yet, we get on excellently.”
“I’m not sure Jane is capable of that sort of relationship.”
“At the risk of being offensive—it’s not your business to be sure, as long as she is.” Brandon pulled a meat pie over to his side of the table and dove in with a fork.
And for the second time that morning, Adam felt like an utter ass.
• • •
The park was only lightly populated this late in the afternoon. They hadn’t passed anyone Jane knew, and for the most part no one tried to talk to them.
“A house party?” Eugenia was too excited by half. “I’ve never been to a house party.”
“I don’t know if we’re invited yet, but—”
“I can tell my mother if you like. She’s very good at pressuring people into inviting me to things.”
Jane grinned. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Adam is speaking to Lord Brandon about it.”
“Is Lord Brandon a prostitute?” Eugenia asked.
“Eugenia!” Jane pulled her friend farther to the edge of the path. An older couple who had overheard scurried away from them. “No he’s not a prostitute. He’s a viscount.”
“My father said his ‘female paramours’ pay his bills.”
If anything, that made Brandon a mistress, not a prostitute, but that was beside the point. “Lord Davenport did not say that to you.”
“Not to me. He said it to my mother when they were arguing after the musicale.”
“Why were they arguing?”
Eugenia shrugged. “My father didn’t like that Lord Brandon was sitting with us. My mother said he should thank his lucky stars an unattached man with a title could stand to spend any time with me at all, regardless of his means.”
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