Wicked Pleasures

by Helen Dickson

  Paul’s face stiffened with anger. ‘Adeline, do not continue with this. It is nonsense, and you are not yourself.’

  ‘I have never been more myself, Paul. I am neither stupid nor a fool. I have known about it for some time. Do you deny it?’

  He shrugged. ‘No, but she means nothing to me. It was just a moment of weakness—nothing more than that.’

  Her eyebrows rose. ‘A moment of weakness? I have not the slightest doubt that it is a “moment of weakness” that has attacked you frequently for a long time past, and will continue to do so in the future.’

  ‘When we return home we will talk about it—decide how to deal with this. But not now.’

  ‘No, Paul,’ Adeline replied unsteadily. ‘I will decide how to deal with this now. When we were at Westwood Hall I knew you and she were…Well, thinking it would blow itself out, I tried to ignore it. But I can’t. I consider our engagement at an end. I will not be played false. I will not marry you.’

  Paul, his face suddenly ashen, and a pulse beginning to throb in his temple, could not believe what he was hearing. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Adeline. Of course we will be married. It is what your father wants. What we all want.’

  ‘It’s no longer what I want. It never was. Father has strong principles regarding moral conduct, and he will be the first to understand. I will not marry a womaniser,’ she upbraided him coldly.

  Paul rounded on her, his face a mask of indignation and malice. ‘And you, I suppose, have no deficiencies? Look at you, for God’s sake. You have a lot to learn about your own limitations, Adeline. You have hardly been inundated with admirers, have you? If it were not for me you would remain a spinster for the rest of your life, and you know it.’

  Enraged by his insult, but managing to remain self-contained, without taking her eyes from his she moved closer. ‘And so I should be grateful to you? Dear God, Paul, I no more want to marry you now than I did in the beginning. Better to be a spinster than married to a man who has so little respect for his future bride. I had no idea you saw me in such an unfavourable light. But I am not as pathetic as you so obviously think I am.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Paul demanded. For the first time he saw something in those eyes of hers—a fire that promised vengeance.

  ‘Just this. Since you require a chaste little virgin for your wife, you should know that if I did marry you, you wouldn’t be getting the virgin bride you expected.’

  Paul’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at her hard. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked, in a voice that had suddenly turned ominous.

  Adeline checked herself abruptly, realising that in her furious state she had said more than she ought.

  Paul read into her words and her expression exactly what she meant. His face darkened.

  ‘You slut,’ he breathed. ‘You damned slut.’

  And before Adeline could move, losing his gentlemanly control, he raised his hand and slapped her across her cheek and jaw. The impact sent her reeling. She staggered wildly, but regaining her balance she managed to whirl around, facing him in expectation of another attack.

  Paul would have struck her again but, because he hated violence in any form, Grant reacted, quickly and deadly, and the cold, biting fury of his voice checked him.

  ‘If you strike her again, Marlow,’ Grant said, his expression savage, ‘I swear it will be the sorriest day of your life.’

  Paul’s face froze into a mask of disbelief, as did Adeline’s, when they spun round and saw Horace and Grant standing just behind them. Until then neither of them had realised they were present. Horace’s expression looked far more ominous than amiable, and Paul was concerned with the tangible danger emanating from Leighton.

  ‘And I second Grant.’ Horace’s voice was low and horribly calm, like the eye of a hurricane.

  Adeline stood mute and unmoving before her father’s accusing, unwavering stare, realising that he might have heard too much. He certainly looked his fiercest. His face had turned crimson; his sideburns were almost bristling.

  Feeling himself pushed beyond the bounds of reason, Adeline’s outrageous outburst having humiliated and diminished him in the eyes of Grant and Horace, Paul gave a snarl of fury. ‘You whore.’

  ‘Watch your tongue, Marlow,’ Grant growled. He looked at Adeline. ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded. The sudden blow had caused a tenuous strand of her hair to come undone from the bun at her nape and frame her cheek. It coiled down across her bosom and curled up provocatively at the tip. Despite her haughty stance, her eyes were glittering with unshed tears.

  Horace looked from his daughter to Paul. ‘Is it true what I overheard? Are you having an affair with Lady Waverley?’

  Clearly embarrassed at being caught out, Paul flushed and shifted guiltily beneath the older man’s hard stare, his fury diminished. ‘I’d hardly call it an affair.’

  ‘It makes no difference. Good God, man—you’ve been carrying on a relationship while engaged to my daughter. I would not have believed it of you. I thought better of you—thought you had more sense and self-restraint—and more discretion. You have made an unforgivable public exhibition of Adeline’s virtue.’

  ‘I can see that I owe you an apology, Horace,’ Paul said, the rough edge of nervousness now tingeing his voice as he tried to bring all his faculties to bear, ‘but I hardly think that a meaningless dalliance can be construed as a capital crime.’

  Horace was rigid. His features were grim, his mouth set into a tight hard line. ‘When it involves my daughter I regard it as serious. You have shamed her. I like to think I am a forgiving man, as well as a stern one. But I am not an idiot. I have never been an idiot and I never will be—and you won’t make me one, I promise you. Our families go back a long way, and we have been friends and business associates for a long time, but what you have done is unacceptable.’

  With that, he turned to Grant. ‘I think enough has been said for now. I think we should discuss this matter further when we have all calmed down. I apologise for this unpleasantness, and do not wish to draw you into a situation that is none of your affair.’

  Paul’s face darkened, and he was trembling slightly as he glanced from Adeline to Grant and then sliced back to Adeline, comprehension dawning. ‘Last night when I caught you swanning around in attire designed for the bedroom, you went looking for more than your book, didn’t you?’

  Adeline shifted uncomfortably, careful not to look at Grant. ‘No! Of course not! That was precisely what I was doing—looking for my book.’

  Paul turned to his host. The look on Grant’s face caused a frisson of fear to trickle through him. He had thought his host completely malleable, but now he read a hardness of purpose and a coldness of manner beyond any previous experience. Strange and explosive emotions lurked in the hard, glittering silver-grey eyes. Pent-up fury crouched, ready to leap and destroy him.

  ‘You will say no more, if you know what’s good for you,’ Grant said, aware of Paul’s train of thought and of his silent accusation. His words were low, barely heard, but menacing enough to stop Paul from saying more.

  Horace, his sharp ears attuned to what was going on, was fully aware of what Paul was implying—which was in all probability the reason why he had struck Adeline. He was unable to believe the situation could get much worse, but it appeared it could. When he looked directly at his daughter, all she could do was look back at him mutely.

  There was a moment of unexpressed emotion which Adeline would never forget. Her father stared at her with such anger that she almost believed a fork of lightning would flick from his eyes and strike her dead.

  Horace turned to Grant. The two men stood without moving, staring at each other. ‘I am compelled to ask you, sir. Is it true what Paul is implying?’

  Grant nodded, trying not to show the self-disgust welling in him. He tried telling himself that Adeline wasn’t his problem or his concern, since it had been her decision to allow him into her bed while she was engaged to Paul, but he could
not escape the fact that it was his ravishment of Adeline that had precipitated this mess.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  Horace looked at Adeline coldly. ‘I am disappointed in you. It seems I do not know my own daughter. Not only have you concealed what you have done, you were prepared to enter into marriage dishonestly. I don’t want to hear the details of what you’ve done. I haven’t the stomach for it.’

  Shock drained the blood from Adeline’s face. Somehow she managed to find the strength to control herself. ‘Father, I am sorry.’

  ‘And so you should be. You are twenty years old, and until you are married you are answerable to me, your father. I thought you understood your duty to me—that you would cleave to it no matter what and conduct yourself properly. Can you imagine how embarrassing it is to announce my daughter’s engagement one minute only to discover the next that she’s been carrying on with another man? The humiliation to me and to Paul’s family, after spending so much time and energy in bringing about a union between the two of you has ended by making us a laughing stock.’

  ‘That’s the trouble,’ Adeline complained, her courage reasserting itself. ‘It’s what it means to you. But what about me? Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted to marry Paul? You just took it for granted that I would comply—which is what I have done ever since Mother died. My marriage to Paul was like a—a merger—it was business—cold and dispassionate—and that’s not what I want.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘What I should have told you at the beginning. That I do not want to marry Paul. I will not marry him. Not now—not ever.’

  The outburst surprised even her. But it was said now, and she was glad.

  ‘Whether it’s true that Adeline and I have a special regard for each other hardly matters now—nor does why Marlow found her in the drawing room looking for her book after midnight—and that was the real purpose for her being there, whatever interpretation he wants put on the incident.’ Turning to Adeline, his jaw set in a hard line, his grey eyes like slivers of steel, Grant took her hand and drew her to his side. He glanced down at her pale face before fixing his gaze on Horace. ‘I have asked her to end her engagement to Paul and do me the honour of agreeing to become my wife.’

  At that blatant falsehood Adeline stared at him in confused shock. His announcement had rendered her speechless. He had spoken calmly, and held her hand almost lovingly, but Adeline was close enough to detect the underlying currents in his tone and in his body. He was seething with anger.

  At length, Horace asked, ‘And what is her answer?’

  ‘I’m still waiting.’

  Grant’s revelation was too much for Paul. His eyes fastened malevolently on Grant, and his voice was incongruously murderous. ‘So I was not mistaken. I knew it.’

  Towering over him, Grant spoke, his voice like ice. ‘What’s the matter, Marlow? Can’t you accept the fact that Adeline doesn’t want you—that she might prefer someone else? If you find the concept impossible to understand or accept, that’s for you to deal with. Get over it. That’s the way the world works. And it’s simply too bad if you don’t like it.’

  Horace turned to his daughter. ‘You really have decided not to marry Paul?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Horace stood unflinching. Every trace of emotion had drained from his face. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of feeling. ‘Very well. But I would not have believed it of you.’

  Adeline sighed and turned away. ‘No, Father. I don’t suppose you would. Please excuse me.’

  ‘Where are you going? We have to talk about this.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to say. I’m going for a walk.’

  Grant looked at Paul. ‘You are no longer welcome in this house. I would like you to leave as soon as you have packed your things. A carriage will take you to the station. I don’t want you here.’

  ‘Save your breath. I’d already decided to leave.’

  Grant smiled tolerantly. ‘No doubt Diana will be pleased to see you at Westwood Hall—and will help you lick your wounds.’

  As Adeline walked, with nowhere particular in mind, she began to feel that something momentous had happened and that her life had changed beyond recall. The sudden breeze that rose and stirred the grass, swayed the trees and went searching and whispering through the branches and leaves, was like a secret message, telling her it was time to be free.

  Back at the house, Grant was facing Horace Osborne alone, forced to listen while the older man delivered an eloquently worded blistering tirade concerning his unacceptable behaviour towards Adeline.

  ‘I cannot condone or excuse what you have done. Because of you my daughter will be made the subject of public censure, and her engagement to Paul is off.’

  ‘I think Paul has much to do with that,’ Grant pointed out firmly, angry about being taken to task over his behaviour, and yet at the same time admiring everything about the man doing it—a man with strong principles about what was acceptable and what was not. A hard man, yes, who saw his daughter as little more than a commodity, but also a man of honesty and integrity, who expected the same behaviour from those around him.

  ‘Do you deny that you seduced Adeline?’ Horace demanded.

  ‘No,’ Grant admitted, without trying to defend himself.

  ‘And did it not concern you that she might be pregnant?’

  ‘She isn’t.’

  As Horace digested this some of the hostility went out of his voice. ‘Thank God for that. But you did this despite the fact that she was engaged to Paul at the time—a man from a fine and decent family, with principles.’

  ‘Paul is no plaster saint.’

  ‘No man is that. At least you didn’t try to shirk your duty to Adeline. You say you have proposed marriage?’

  Grant nodded, watching Horace warily. ‘As yet she hasn’t given me her answer.’

  ‘She will. Marriage is a foregone conclusion.’

  ‘Assuming she agrees. Adeline may have other ideas.’

  ‘My daughter will do as she is told,’ Horace said curtly. ‘Under the circumstances it is the right and proper thing to do. This dreadful business will make things very unpleasant for her. It is always uncomfortable to be closely connected to a public scandal, and vulgar curiosity will set people staring and talking, if nothing worse.’

  ‘Adeline is an intelligent young woman. She has the right to make up her own mind.’

  Horace’s gaze was direct. ‘Her wishes count for nothing. I shall insist on it. When the time is right you will announce your engagement, and after a suitable length of time you will be married. Until that time there will be no intimacies between the two of you. If the sacrifice of physical satisfaction is too much, then—’

  ‘It won’t be,’ Grant bit out.

  ‘Fine.’ Horace’s countenance suddenly relaxed, and his smile was almost paternal. ‘Then everything’s settled.’

  Surfacing from his private thoughts, Grant wondered how the hell he had managed to let himself be coerced into this situation, thinking that an hour ago something as outrageous as tying himself to Miss Adeline Osborne for life would have been absolutely out of the question. He nodded.

  ‘I’ll speak to Adeline.’

  Horace nodded, too, satisfied that the matter had been settled to his satisfaction.

  Chapter Five

  Grant found Adeline sitting on a stout fallen log at the edge of the wood, some considerable distance from the house. She didn’t turn when he approached but, seeing her back stiffen, he knew she was aware of his presence. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he propped his back against a tree, his narrow gaze trained on her. Having half expected to find her in a distressed state, he was surprised to find her looking unruffled and as cool as a cucumber.

  Adeline saw Grant was wearing the same grim expression she had seen when she had left the house. He looked strained with the intensity of his emotions, but slowly, little by little, he was getting a grip on himself. His shoulders
were squared, his jaw set and rigid with implacable determination, and even in this pensive pose he seemed to emanate restrained power and unyielding authority. There was no sign of the relaxed, laughing man she had ridden with earlier—no sign of the passionate man who had kissed her so ardently last night.

  Where he was concerned her feelings were nebulous, chaotic—yet one stood out clearly: her desire for this man. She hadn’t known herself when she had been in his arms, and last night she hadn’t wanted him to stop kissing her. He was weaving a web about her and she could do nothing to prevent it, to deny the hold he already had over her senses and her heart. She wanted him with a fierceness that took her breath, wanted to feel again the depths of passion only he was capable of rousing in her. But she was determined not to let him touch her again.

  While she had been sitting there thinking, a strange calm had settled on her, banishing even her shame. She had left Grant to argue it out with her father, and whatever decision they had come to she was resolved to do things her way from now on. It was her life, to do with as she pleased, and no man would order her to do his bidding ever again.

  Raising her brows, she gave him a cynical smile. ‘What a strange turnabout this is,’ she said, in a flat, emotionless voice, giving no evidence of how the mere sight of him set her heart pounding in her chest, how the thought of never seeing him again almost broke her heart. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  ‘I have to admit they’re not the most romantic of circumstances.’

  ‘No.’ She let her eyes dwell on his face. How well he shielded his thoughts. ‘I expect you are feeling a bit like a rabbit caught in a trap.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’ Grant lifted one hand and massaged the taut muscles at the back of his neck. His mind was locked in furious combat about what he was about to do. All the way here he had been straining against the noose of matrimony he could feel tightening about his throat. What had possessed him to announce that he’d asked Adeline to marry him? Now that he had, he was honour-bound to abide by his declaration, and there was no going back. ‘Your father certainly knows how to make a man feel small.’