Adeline sighed against him. ‘You are very astute, Mr Leighton.’
‘I have to be.’
‘Must you go?’
He nodded his head, and even though his voice was still soft, it was steadier and more resolute. ‘Yes. Don’t make it harder than it already is.’
Adeline wondered desolately how it could possibly be any harder, but she swallowed down that futile protest. ‘I won’t. I suppose if it’s business then you have to go.’
‘Do you intend staying in London?’
‘For a little while. I’ve never been away from Rosehill for so long—or from my father—and I’m rather enjoying my freedom.’
‘I’d like to see the look on his face when his daughter returns as a stylish, independent young woman.’
‘He probably won’t notice.’
‘Yes, he will. You’ll see.’
‘Will—will you write to me?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Only if you promise to write back.’
She nodded. ‘You know I will.’
They fell silent, each content to hold reality at bay for the time they had left together. After a prolonged moment of silence, Adeline whispered, ‘What are you thinking about?’
Grant tipped his chin down, the better to see her, wiping shining strands of hair from her forehead. ‘I was thinking how lucky I am to have you here with me now. I knew within minutes of seeing you that you were quite unique.’
‘Yet you knew nothing about me, about my character, which is what makes a person.’
‘I knew by the way you rode your horse. It was obvious you didn’t give a damn what people thought about a woman riding astride—and wearing breeches to boot. I was full of admiration. I also thought you were the most vital, energetic young woman I had ever seen—quite magnificent, in fact. And now I have come to know you I realise I was not mistaken in my opinion.’
Rolling onto her stomach and leaning on her elbows, Adeline looked into his fathomless eyes. ‘Truly?’
‘Truly.’
‘And were you not disappointed when you realised who I was—plain, shortsighted Miss Adeline Osborne from Rosehill? People have always had the most odd reaction to my looks.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ he said, his mouth quirking in a half-smile as he pulled her down onto his chest. ‘I have never considered you plain—interesting, yes, and discerning, certainly not dull, and never plain.’
In Grant’s opinion he spoke the truth, because as she sprawled across his chest, her deep mahogany-coloured hair shrouding them both, she looked like a bewitching, beautiful, innocent goddess.
‘But I have odd eyes, don’t you think?’
‘Take it from me, Adeline,’ he murmured, his senses alive to every inch of the form so languorously stretched across him, ‘there is absolutely nothing wrong with your eyes, or your nose—which is adorable, by the way—and your mouth is perfect and extremely kissable. So you see, along with all your other feminine assets, you have all the requisite features in all the right places.’ His gaze settled on her mouth. ‘And, speaking of your mouth,’ he said, watching her tongue pass over her full bottom lip in a most seductive manner that made him acutely aware that his body was stirring to life with alarming intensity, ‘I think it’s time you kissed me. We haven’t much time left, and I don’t want to waste a minute of it.’
Happy to do as he asked, Adeline lowered her head and lightly placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Her eyes darkened with a love she wasn’t trying to conceal from him any more. ‘What is it I have to do to please you?’
Rolling her onto her back, he smiled down at her. ‘I’m open to suggestions. Show me.’
Chapter Eleven
Loving Grant from the bottom of her heart, Adeline tried to block out the painful moment when they would have to part. When it was time for him to leave, Adeline accompanied him to the ground floor of the hotel. It wasn’t until they reached the foyer that she realised she had left her reticule in his rooms.
‘I’ll go back and get it,’ Grant offered.
‘No, I’ll go. You go and find a cab. I won’t be long.’
Having retrieved her reticule, Adeline stepped out of the lift and looked around her, searching the people milling about for the face she loved. And there he was. She was about to cross to him when she saw him bend his head to the woman who seemed to be clinging to his side. His arm was half about her waist and her hand was placed possessively on his arm.
It was Diana.
It was the expression on Diana’s face that caught Adeline’s attention and held her momentarily transfixed. Her eyes were direct, intensely earnest, and she was looking at Grant as if she were telling him something profoundly important. Grant, standing with his profile to Adeline, was speaking softly, closer to Diana than was customary for mere friends, and he seemed—at least for the moment—oblivious to anyone else.
Numb with shock, she felt a silence seem to fall around her—a silence in which every sound was muted, a silence in which she seemed embalmed for a moment. And then she spun on her heel and walked out of the hotel. She got inside a cab and told the driver to go to Eaton Place, and to hurry. The man obeyed instantly, snaking his long carriage whip over the horse’s back and urging it forward, ignoring delivery carts, drays and other hansoms which swerved out of their way.
Inside the cab, Adeline felt as if she were existing in some kind of remote space, isolated from everything. The only thing she could think of was Grant and the pleasure he had given her—the intense, undreamed of, unimaginable pleasure—and now Diana had appeared once again to spoil everything. She felt desperately wretched and unhappy. How could he? she thought angrily. But anger did not help her. She felt lost and bewildered.
As soon as she entered the house, Mrs Kelsall handed her a letter that had arrived earlier. It was from Rosehill.
When Adeline didn’t meet him in the foyer, Grant returned to his room to find she wasn’t there either. Puzzled as to where she could be, he waited a while in case she turned up before going to Eaton Place—only to be told by Mrs Kelsall that Adeline had received an urgent message from Rosehill. Her father had been taken ill and she had left for the station almost immediately.
For the second time that day Grant rushed to Victoria Station, in the hope of seeing her. But he was too late. He was to leave himself to catch the boat train shortly, so he was unable to go after her, but he was curious as to why she had left the hotel without saying goodbye. Then the reason why she had gone hit him like a hammer-blow.
Diana! She must have seen him with Diana—and, based on her reaction, she had imagined the worst. She was torturing them both this way because she was angry and hurt. ‘You little fool!’ he murmured, staring at the empty railtrack. She had done it again, without giving him an opportunity to explain. And now it was too late.
He could imagine the wrenching look on her face when she had seen him with Diana—and the image haunted him. It tore at him, along with his other worries about her. There were so many things he needed desperately to say to her—and he would. He would write to her the moment he reached his hotel in Paris.
All the way to Rosehill, Adeline was filled with a mixture of emotions: in particular, worry about her father, and second to that a growing fury—a furious disbelief—that she had allowed a man to treat her as Grant Leighton had done. She felt rage that he had had the audacity to do so. She had the desire to shout her rage out loud. What sort of a woman did he think she was? How dared he? How dared he lure her to his hotel room and do what he had when all the time Diana Waverley had been waiting downstairs? No matter how hard he denied they were having an affair, she did not believe him and never would. How could she when she had seen the evidence with her own eyes?
Well, she could do nothing about Grant Leighton just now. Her father was ill and he needed her—but, dear Lord, she’d have something to say to him when the time came.
On reaching Rosehill, Adeline knew her face was set in lines of anxiety.
> ‘How is Father?’ were the first words she asked Mrs Pearce, who had been the housekeeper at Rosehill for as long as Adeline could remember.
‘Dr Terry’s with him now, Miss Adeline.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Adeline asked, removing her hat and gloves and handing them to a hovering maid.
‘It’s his heart, Dr Terry says. He collapsed last night at dinner. We managed to get him to bed. It was fortunate Dr Terry was at home and able to come at once.’
‘Is he conscious?’
Mrs Pearce nodded her grey head. ‘He’s very poorly, but the doctor will tell you more.’
When Dr Terry faced Adeline he was as reassuring as he could be.
‘He’s had a minor heart attack, which I believe was brought on by stress. I’ve advised him time and again not to work so hard—but you know what he’s like. His condition is stabilised, and I don’t believe there is any danger—providing you can get him to take things easy.’
‘I’ll certainly do my best.’
‘I’ve given him a draught that seems to have relaxed him, and he’ll be relieved to see you, my dear. Your presence will hasten his recovery, I am sure.’
Knowing full well that her presence was unlikely to make any difference whatsoever, Adeline let her lips curve in a wry smile. ‘Let us hope so, Dr Terry.’
‘I’ve taken the liberty of employing a nurse—a Mrs Newbold—who is extremely competent. She arrived this morning and has already settled in to her duties.’
‘Thank you. I do appreciate that.’
‘There’s nothing more I can do for now. I’ll call tomorrow. Just make sure he stays quiet.’
As soon as Dr Terry had left, Adeline went up to her father. He was propped up against the pillows, his face grey and drawn with the hint of tiredness and pain. The signs of fleshiness were beginning to fight against the hardness of it, showing his advancing age, but his intelligent eyes were keen as he watched her approach the bed with quiet assurance.
‘Adeline,’ he said throatily.
She bent over and lightly kissed his cheek. ‘Hello, Father,’ she said, searching his face. He had always seemed so indestructible. Nothing had seemed beyond the reach and scope of his energy and intelligence. ‘I came just as soon as I could. How are you?’ she ventured. ‘Dr Terry seems pleased with your progress.’ She smiled. ‘You always did confound predictions.’
He nodded, his gaze on her face. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Adeline. All this fuss.’ He glowered at Mrs Newbold, hovering across the room. ‘I can’t stand it.’
‘It won’t be for long. I’m sure you’ll soon be up and about—but you’re going to have to take it easy for some time.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me—and I fear they’re right.’
A sad smile rested briefly on his lips, and when he looked away Adeline knew his very attitude was an admission of weakness. He who had always had determination, stamina, will—who had demanded and been paid the homage of lord and master for so long—had in the last moments been toppled from his pedestal, and the recognition of his fall was mutual.
He looked at Adeline and a softening entered Horace’s eyes. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’
‘Have you?’ Adeline could say no more in her amazement. Her father, who had always seemed so remote—uncaring—had missed her, and he was looking at her in the most extraordinary way. She marvelled at it, and something inside her softened and shattered. Her quick, observant eyes saw the varied emotions flickering in his own. He had changed. Never before allowing her to come too close, now he seemed to welcome her.
Smiling softly, a warmth in her eyes, and taking his hand, she sat on the edge of the bed facing him. ‘I’ve missed you, too. When I left for London there was so much constraint between us—of my doing entirely. I accept that, and I am so sorry, Father. I never meant to hurt you. Truly.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he said hoarsely, gently squeezing her hand. ‘I’m just glad to have you back. You look—different, somehow—quite fetching, in fact. Your hair…’
Adeline laughed brightly. ‘It’s supposed to be the new me, but I’m still the same underneath. I—I saw Grant Leighton in London. I—understand his mother has been a guest at Rosehill whilst I’ve been away?’ Did she imagine it or did a twinkle enter his eyes?
‘She has, and most delightful she is, too. We have much in common, Hester and me. In fact I would like you to write to her—tell her what’s happened and that she must feel free to visit any time. I—would like to see her.’
‘I’ll do that.’
‘So, you’ve seen Grant Leighton, have you?’
‘Yes, on—on several occasions,’ she said, lowering her eyes.
Horace settled into the pillows, observing his daughter with careful scrutiny. He didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him that all was not as it should be with her. ‘Do you regret not accepting his proposal of marriage, Adeline?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s in the past, Father. At the time there was so much unpleasantness. I—prefer not to speak of it.’
Horace did not question her on the subject of Grant Leighton any further. There were areas of the heart into which one did not intrude.
Adeline greeted Hester Leighton in the hall, relieved that she had come at last. Her features were as soft and feminine as she remembered, but there were shadows under and around her eyes that had not been present before.
‘It’s very good of you to come, Mrs Leighton. Father is so looking forward to seeing you.’
‘I would have come sooner, but I didn’t want to appear intrusive,’ Hester said, smiling softly.
‘You knew my father was ill?’
Hester raised her brows delicately. ‘I had a letter from Grant. He mentioned that he’d seen you in London, and the reason why you had been summoned back to Rosehill.’
‘I see.’ And Adeline did see. What Mrs Leighton had said told her that Grant must have followed her to Eaton Place when he had found she had left the hotel. Had he been surprised? Had he realised why? ‘The hall is chilly. Come into the drawing room. It’s warmer and faces on to the garden…’ She smiled suddenly. ‘But you will know all about that, since Rosehill was your home for many years.’
‘I do, and you are right.’ Hester accompanied Adeline across the hall and into the warmer, far more agreeable room. ‘I always loved it in here. It gets the sun for most of the day, and the garden is as delightful as I remember.’ Her eyes misted as she looked out of the long windows. ‘I have so many memories wrapped up in this house—happy and sad. When I heard your father might sell it I sent Grant to see him, to try and buy it back. Did you know?’
Adeline nodded. ‘Father intended giving it to me as a wedding present when I married Paul—but that’s in the past. But what am I thinking of? You must have some refreshment after your journey. Then I’ll take you up to see Father.’
‘Thank you,’ Hester accepted. ‘I would like that.’
When they were seated, Hester asked, ‘How is Horace?’
‘You will be pleased to know he is a little better. The doctor is pleased with his progress and thinks he will make a full recovery.’
Hester’s relief was evident. ‘I am so glad.’ She paused before continuing, as if considering her next words carefully. ‘Adeline, I do so hope you don’t mind, but on your father’s invitation I stayed at Rosehill while you were in London.’
‘Mrs Leighton, this is my father’s house. I think he is old enough to invite who he wants to stay. I certainly have no objections.’
Hester smiled with relief and sudden genuine pleasure. ‘So you don’t mind?’
‘Not one bit. Between you and me, Father spends far too much time working—which, in Dr Terry’s opinion, may well have something to do with his heart attack. Some female company is what he needs.’
It was after dinner, after Hester had spent some considerable time with Horace, talking and reading to him, when, stirring her coffee, she tilted her head to one side and
studied Adeline. She said with a smile, ‘You know, you do look different.’
Adeline laughed. ‘I know. It’s all down to Lettie. She thought I needed taking in hand.’ Adeline saw a shadow cross Mrs Leighton’s face. She waited. To ask its cause would be an intrusion, but instinctively she knew it concerned Lettie. ‘How is Lettie?’ she asked, speaking calmly.
Hester sighed. ‘She is well, considering all she has been through—although I do worry about her. I wanted her to come to Rosehill with me but—well…I know what happened to her in London,’ she said quietly. ‘She told me everything, Adeline. I was appalled and extremely shocked—angry, too—to think my darling daughter endured what she did alone. I have you to thank for everything you did for her. Thank you so much for taking care of her.’
Adeline looked at Mrs Leighton and saw her exquisite high-boned face was drawn, her eyes far away, sad and angry. ‘I am glad she felt that she could confide in me.’
‘Poor Lettie. I feel an intense sadness for her. She had the passion, the intelligence and the courage to dare anything. Now she sits brooding and just looking at nothing for most of the day. I cannot condone her affair with that—that nightclub owner, or what she did.’
She looked dejectedly down at her hands, folded in her lap. ‘I cannot even bring myself to speak his name. I wish she’d never set eyes on him, and I cannot forgive the hurt he has caused her. Lettie espoused the Women’s Movement because she cares about injustice. Where’s the justice in what that man has done to her? However, I will not allow my anger to make me forget myself. Yes, Lettie told me many things—things best kept silent, if we are to live in any kind of peace. I am sure if you will consider it you will agree with me.’
Adeline understood that Mrs Leighton was asking her to keep what she knew to herself—not to tell her father. ‘I agree with you. Sometimes to forget is the only sane thing to do—otherwise one becomes imprisoned by the past. Console yourself with the fact that the affair is over. Lettie is strong and will put this behind her. She has the support of her family and some stalwart friends.’
Wicked Pleasures Page 23