Ten
Addy was kept busy over the next few days. Mornings were given over to strategy sessions with Ross, and she was secretly delighted that he'd once more become a fixture in their house. Despite his preoccupation with the vote he always had some teasing words to offer her, usually about the beaus she seemed to have acquired, and he could always make her laugh at most of them. The rumors of his cowardice vanished as if they had never been, and the prince himself was the one to bestow his captaincy upon him. An honor that would have been the greater, Ross confided to her later, if he'd had the troops to match the pretty silver cord on his new jacket.
Her afternoons were given over to tutoring Lord Hixworth, although he was rapidly progressing to the stage where such instruction would no longer be required. He'd thrown himself into the battle for Wellington, and he grew more confident and certain of himself with each passing day. Who might have guessed politics was the shy young man's natural milieu, Addy mused, feeling an almost maternal pride as she listened to him practicing his maiden speech. She knew Ross was also set to make his first speech within a few weeks, but so far he hadn't shown it to her. She tried not to let it bother her, but it did.
At her aunt's urging, she'd also started instructing Mr. Wellford. Since he was more experienced with Society than most of her pupils, she was able to eschew her usual lessons. Her scheme to introduce him to several intellectual societies had proven more successful than she'd dared hope, and he opened up as he was able to associate with those who shared his many interests. He was even talking of her dear friend, Miss Elizabeth Morton, in the most glowing of terms, an affection that Elizabeth shyly admitted was more than returned.
Addy's nights were spent in the social round, and for reasons she still could not fully comprehend, she seemed to have "taken." Indeed, so great was her success with the gentlemen that Lady Sefton, the kindest of all the Patronesses at Almack's, took her aside and sweetly explained that they could no longer condone her wearing turbans and what her ladyship delicately called her "mourning clothes."
"For it confuses people, you see, to see such a lovely and fashionable young lady in half mourning," she said, patting Addy' s hand. "They wonder who in your family might have died, and then wonder if they had ought to send flowers. Some color in your wardrobe, Miss Terrington, if you please."
"At least she didn't ask me to don white or sprigged muslin," Addy commented to Aunt Matilda as they made their way to yet another ball. "That would have been too lowering by half."
"I am not so certain of that," her aunt replied, toying with the fringe of her shawl. "White would have been just the thing to show your hair to its best advantage. I daresay the world must have thought you bald as Good Queen Bess the way you insisted upon wearing those dreadful turbans."
"Perhaps, but I'm still not rigging myself out like a bride," Addy said decisively. "The Patronesses might have dusted me off and taken me from the shelf, but as far as I am concerned nothing has changed. I am determined to remain a spinster."
"If you say so, dearest."
Her aunt' s placid acquiescence had Addy' s eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion. "I am in earnest, ma'am," she felt compelled to warn the other woman. "I know this sudden popularity I seem to be enjoying has you thinking I have changed my mind, but I have not. I am not on the catch for a husband."
"I know you're not." Her aunt gave her a vague smile. "You're far too old for such nonsense. And so I told the viscount when he mentioned the matter to me yesterday."
"It is not that I have anything against the married state, per se," Addy continued resolutely. "It is just that I—" She stopped. "Ross mentioned marriage to you yesterday?"
"Not in so many words," her aunt replied, sounding bored. "He merely mentioned that he wondered if you meant to marry one of the charming young men buzzing about you, and I assured him you did not.
"He is quite fond of you, you know," she added with a chuckle. "I think he sees himself as a surrogate brother to you, and thinks it his duty to keep a sharp eye on you. Heaven knows Arthur and Reginald would hand you over to the first young man to ask for your hand, and as for Richard, well, the less said of that particular individual, the better."
Addy grimaced at the mention of her eldest brother. He avoided London at all costs, declaring it no fit place for a Christian gentleman, and was always after her to return to the country. He was married to the only daughter of a nearby squire, a match Addy herself had helped make possible when she'd managed to make her priggish and countrified brother into something passing in the provinces for a London gentleman.
She'd done the same for all her brothers and several male cousins, which was how she'd achieved her current reputation. But instead of being grateful, Richard had turned into a sanctimonious tyrant, fond of giving lectures and firing off missives on a weekly basis. The last one contained a strongly worded hint that she stop "dithering about," as he termed it, and marry one of the men dangling after her before "they come to their senses and turn their attentions elsewhere."
"I do not see why his lordship should see the need to stand as my brother," she complained, responding belatedly to her aunt's teasing comments. "I do not see myself as his sister."
Her aunt smiled. "I know."
Addy would have pursued that remark, but they were already pulling up in front of the home of Lord Grayburgh. His lordship was hosting a ball to honor several officers who were about to depart London for Spain, but all knew the real reason was a show of support for Weilington. It was nearing the last week of June, and the vote could no longer be postponed.
Inside, she was quickly swept away by her crowd of admirers, and she spent the next hour dancing and talking to her many new friends. But no matter how busy she was, she was always aware Ross was nearby. He was leading a pretty blonde out to dance when she was joining a set, or flirting with a sultry brunette while she was accepting a cup of punch one of her suitors offered her. Always there, she realized, always just out of reach.
There was to be more dancing following a light supper, and Addy was sitting beside her aunt waiting for her next partner to claim her. But instead of the dashing Naval officer she was expecting, it was Ross who was bowing over her hand.
"My dance, I believe, Miss Terrington," he said, his eyes gleaming with admiration as they swept over her.
Addy's heart leapt into her throat before she forced it back down to its proper location. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, my lord," she said with genuine regret. "This dance is promised to Lieutenant Grisby." She attempted to free her hand, only to have his fingers tighten about her own.
"Unfortunately, the lieutenant has been unavoidably detained," he said, drawing her to her feet. "He has asked me to serve in his stead. Shall we go? The set is forming."
Short of making a scene and drawing even more interested gazes to their corner, Addy had no choice but to allow him to lead her out onto the dance floor. They were halfway through the set when something made her glance toward the door. A crowd of young Army officers had Lieutenant Grisby surrounded, and it was obvious from the frustrated expression on his face it was not a situation he found to his liking. Understanding dawned, and she flashed Ross a reproving look.
"An interesting maneuver, sir," she admonished, albeit with lips curved in an appreciative smile. "It must be the first time in history the Cavalry has bottled up the Navy."
He didn't bother denying the charge. "I'll have to mention it to the general when next we meet," he said, flashing the lieutenant a victorious look. " 'Tis not without its risks, I grant you, but then"—he glanced back down at her—" 'tis not without its rewards."
Before she could respond, he was leading her back to her aunt. After offering each of them a polite bow, he disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear just as the party was ending. He walked up behind her in the entryway, slipping her velvet cape about her in a gesture that was oddly proprietary.
"I've told your aunt I would see you home," he said, his hands lingering briefly
on her shoulders. "There are some things I would discuss with you."
That sounded ominous, but Addy kept her expression carefully blank as he led her out to his waiting carriage. She paused at the sight of the three hulking men standing beside it. Though they were all dressed in livery, she'd never seen three rougher or more deadly-looking men in her life.
"Captain!" The largest of the men shot to attention, firing off a brisk salute before opening the carriage door. "Perimeter is secured, sir, and no sign of the enemy has been spotted."
Ross returned the salute as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Thank you, Malton," he said calmly. "You and the others may assume your positions. Tell Shorts he is to take the route around the park before taking us to Bruton Street."
"Aye, sir!" Another salute was snapped off, and then Malton was helping Addy into the coach with more enthusiasm than skill. The moment the door had closed behind them she turned to Ross.
"Well, sir?" she asked, her brow raised in inquiry. "I am waiting for an explanation. Your staff is most . . . interesting."
He gave a negligent shrug. "London is full of cashiered soldiers in need of work. I give it to them."
"And that business about 'the enemy'?" she pressed, touched by his concern for the men he'd once fought with. "Do you really expect your cousin to do something untoward?"
"There is no crime I'd not think that sot capable of," he responded with a low grumble. "But no, I do not expect him to be so bold as to make an outright move against me."
"Then why the guards?"
"Devil take it, woman, the men have their pride!" he exclaimed, glaring at her in frustration. "Would you have that taken from them along with everything else? Giving them coin for their pockets and food for their bellies is not enough. A man needs purpose as well, and so I give it to them."
"Guarding you from an attack you don't really expect?"
"Who is to say what that gutless worm may do?" he retorted, hunching his shoulders and folding his arms across his chest. "This way 'tis employment I am offering them, and not charity. Charity sticks in a man's throat, however empty his stomach, but honest work is another matter. I hire them on as guards until I am able to find them other positions."
Addy's throat tightened painfully. She knew Ross too well to praise him for his largesse. He would only scowl and say 'twas nothing and then change the subject, but she doubted if the men in his employ would dismiss his kindness so easily. He'd saved them, she thought, and in saving them, perhaps he was in some way saving himself. It was an interesting notion.
They rode along in silence for several minutes, and Addy took the opportunity to study him at her leisure. For a man who insisted he had something important to discuss with her, Ross was oddly silent. His dark gold brows were set in a straight line over his hooded eyes, and his full, sensual mouth was thinned in obvious displeasure. He was clearly angry about something, and she wondered if he was about to issue her a lecture about some failing of hers. The man was near as fond of lectures as was Richard, and Addy knew she wasn't up to being on the receiving end of such a scold. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she joined him on his side of the coach.
"Ross?" She touched his cheek with a gentle hand. "What is wrong? Are you angry with me?"
He turned his head at that, his eyes meeting hers with a fierceness that had the breath catching in her throat. It wasn't impatience or disapproval she saw shimmering in the rich green depths of his eyes. It was desire; desire for her. She was still absorbing the shock of that when his hand stole up to touch her as she was touching him.
"How can I be angry with you, leannan?" he asked in a voice made husky with passion. "When I want you so much I am mad with the wanting?"
Addy's pulses began their wild racing, and her breath seemed clogged in her lungs. Sitting so close to Ross, she could feel the tension holding his muscular body taut, and the knowledge that he was waiting for her decision had her senses swimming with an intoxicating brew of emotions. She knew she had but to move back, and that would be the end of it. What came next would be at her choice, and looking into his compelling eyes, she knew what that choice would be.
"I am glad you want you me, Ross," she said, feeling like the greatest hussy in London and reveling in the sensation. "I am glad, because I want you as well."
His eyes flared with a burst of satisfaction, and then he was sweeping her into his arms, his mouth hot and fiercely demanding as it covered hers. The kiss was every bit as wondrous and as stirring as the first they had shared, and Addy's head spun with delight. Ross's mouth was ardent in its demand, moving skillfully against hers until she parted her lips in shy acquiescence. Immediately his tongue surged between her lips, flicking against her own until she was breathless with a wild passion.
"Ross." She moaned his name when he freed her mouth to brush a searing kiss down her neck. "Kiss me, please kiss me!"
His mouth took hers again, harder and even more demanding, seeking a response she was only too happy to give him. This was the passion she had always wanted, the passion she was so certain she would never know. Now that she'd found it, she wanted never to let it go. They continued kissing, their lips never seeming to tire of the taste and texture of one another. She knew her actions put her beyond the pale, but she didn't care. When she felt Ross's fingers gently brushing over her breasts, she gave a soft cry of delight.
"You are sweet, so soft," he groaned, his fingertips caressing the turgid peak of her breast. "How you make me burn, annsachd, like a fire on the coldest days."
Addy's arms stole tighter about his neck, pressing him closer to her trembling body. He complied eagerly, and when his lips sought her breasts, she bit her lips to hold back her groan.
Without warning the carriage gave a rough jolt, and the violent movement almost sent Addy flying to the floor.
"Bleedin' idiot!" a rough voice called out. "Learn 'ow to drives why don't yer, ye ham-handed chaw bacon!"
Ross helped steady her, although his own hands shook with visible tremors. "Are you all right?" he asked, his tone harsh. "You were not injured?"
"N-no, I am fine," Addy stammered, understanding with regret that the sensual interlude was at an end. She knew she should be grateful, but it was rather hard to be grateful when her entire body was throbbing with a wild, burning ache. Taking a deep breath, she managed to gather enough courage to meet his gaze.
"I suppose I should apologize," she began, feeling awkward. "I don't make a habit of forgetting myself with gentlemen in carriages, I assure you."
The mouth that had been devouring hers only moments before tightened in displeasure. "I did not think you did," he said, his voice as cold and distant as his expression. "We will speak no more of it."
She flinched, cut to the quick by his sudden withdrawal. Tears threatened, but she would not allow them to fall. She moved quickly back to her own seat, gathering her cloak and the tattered remnants of her pride about her.
"You said you wanted to speak with me, Lord St. Jerome," she said, resisting the urge to straighten the spectacles that were sitting crookedly on her face. "What is it you wished to say?"
He studied her for a few moments before responding. "Nothing that cannot wait, Miss Terrington," he said, mimicking her stilted voice. "I will call upon you tomorrow."
Addy's jaw tensed at his arrogant assumption she should be at his beck and call. If he thought he could kiss her senseless one moment and then cut her dead in the next, he was about to learn such was not the case. She raised her chin and gave him the look she usually reserved for overly presumptuous clerks.
"That will not be possible, my lord," she said, taking grim satisfaction in the anger that flared to life in his eyes. "I fear I will not be available."
He leaned forward and she jerked back, thinking he was about to shake her. Instead he straightened her spectacles, making certain they were correctly positioned on the bridge of her nose before leaning back against the seat.
"Be available, lea
nnan," he advised, his eyes soft with menace as he crossed his arms. "Be available, or I fear I shall have to do something we will both have cause to regret."
Fool! Baothalan! Ross cursed himself in English and Gaelic as the coach rumbled its way back to Berkeley Square. He'd meant to cautiously broach the subject of marriage with Adalaide, and what did he do the moment they were alone but pounce upon her like a wolf upon a particularly tasty lamb. And afterwards, what had he done but compounded his sin by turning proper as a bishop at tea. No wonder she'd refused to see him, he thought, grinding his teeth in frustration. He would count himself luckier than he deserved if the little deamhan ever spoke to him again.
He was still cursing himself the following morning when he went into his study and found Nevil waiting to speak with him.
"Good morning, my lord," the other man said, bowing formally. "I trust you are well?"
"The plague take you, Nevil," he snarled, throwing himself onto the chair behind his desk and propping his booted feet on the desk's glossy surface. "I told you never to call me that when we are private. And if you bow at me again, I'll kick your arse up between your ears!"
Instead of taking offense, the other man roared with laughter. "Aye, Captain . . . or do you prefer I call you Sergeant?" He sent Ross a cheeky wink. "I prefer my arse remains where it is"
Ross's lips quirked in a reluctant smile. "Captain will do," he said, his black temper dissipating somewhat. "Now, tell me why you have decided to honor me with your presence. Have you found some other soldiers in need of employment?"
The Scotsman and the Spinster Page 15