“And what does Mr. Moorish say?” Luke turned to look at the man, his muscles tensing.
The toll master gave a wink. “Says he’s in the shipping business, not the farming business, of course.” He spread his hands wide, back toward Seabridge Gate. “Every single family in this village relies on Mr. Moorish and his company. Even the earl himself, begging your pardon—”
Luke was not offended. In fact he loved the picture of the elder brother needing his younger sibling. “No offense taken. Go on.”
“His ships run like clockwork and he’s got a sense about the weather. He makes every man who uses his boats richer. And he’s always finding new men to do business with.”
Luke chuckled. He remembered Mr. Moorish’s excitement when Luke had mentioned a contract. The man loved his business nearly as much as he did his family. A stab of longing made his fists clench. Could Mr. Moorish really have been like himself in his younger days? Did Luke really have a chance at such a life? “That makes a great deal of sense.”
The other man nodded but as one of the other workers called to him, he left Luke’s side. Skipping across the last of the broken boards, Luke crossed the bridge stepping onto Haversham land.
The tall grass of the fields blew softly in the breeze as the smell of the ocean filled the air. The sun shone brightly in the blue sky, painting the whole land with a fresh brush. “The water here,” he called back over his shoulder. “It’s still brackish, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” one of the men called back. “You have to go further up the river before it’s fresh.”
“How far?” he asked, his mind turning on the possibilities.
“Half mile,” another man called back. “Maybe less. The hills keep a lot of fresh water coming this way.”
He assessed the slope of the land. It would be easy to get fresh water to this ground. Scratching the back of his neck, he squinted into the sun. Could he build a life here?
After finishing the bridge repairs, he walked back toward the village. The sun warmed his skin and he smiled, wondering what tonight might bring. Last night, when he’d held Adrianna in his arms, he’d begun to wonder why he’d want another woman in them at all.
He stopped at the inn, then had a quick bite to eat before returning to the cottage. He’d like to bathe, and properly dress for dinner. Mr. Moorish was right. Life was better here. Why did Adrianna need to venture to London at all? All day he’d been pestered by the notion that perhaps he should simply marry her himself, build a life here, keep her safe. Hell, he could take care of her for the rest of her life. He pictured having a daughter who looked exactly like Adrianna. The image near stole the breath from his lungs.
He’d just climbed out of the bath when a knock sounded at the door. Wrapping a cloth around his middle, he opened the door to find Craven on the other side.
“There you are,” Craven said. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
Luke grimaced. “I’ve been busy.” He looked down at his crumpled, dirty shirt and his sweaty cravat.
Craven raised a brow. “You certainly have. The question is…what have you been busy doing?”
Luke narrowed his gaze. “If you must know, today I helped repair a bridge.”
Craven spluttered, a bit of spit falling from his mouth onto a parcel of letters. “Are you ill? You? Fixing something?”
Luke looked down at the now-wet parchment. He didn’t answer, not wanting to admit that Craven was absolutely right. He’d done so little in his life that meant anything. When he thought about what Mr. Moorish could have been versus what he’d become…he straightened. He could change his life. Become a man of worth. “Are those for me? You’ve just soaked them.”
Craven handed him the bundle. “You’re welcome.” Then he walked away again.
Luke gingerly carried the bundle into his room and tossed it on a small table next to the fire. It was his correspondence that had been forwarded from London by his solicitor. The man had the personality of a limp rag but he was good at his job, Luke had to give him that. He turned to dress when he noticed the note at the very top of the pile. In neat, perfectly symmetrical handwriting was his formal address.
His gut clenched. He’d know that lettering anywhere. Miranda’s penmanship hadn’t changed in all the years he’d known her.
Luke reached over and grabbed the envelope, slicing open the letter, his heart pounding in his chest. What did she want this time? He’d allowed her to stay in their family home, kept her allowance the same. Guilt stabbed behind his sternum. He’d done his best to keep his word to his brother these past five years.
He skimmed the note, his stomach churning as Miranda’s words washed over him. She asked him to reconsider their possible union. In the passage, she detailed how, as the earl, he needed an heir.
Luke, understand that I know you better than most. I know that responsibility is not your strong suit, but I am uniquely aware of what being a countess means.
He ran his fingers through his hair, her words slicing into him.
I can provide you with a child and then you’ll be free to continue your life undisturbed. I can oversee so many of the duties for you and you can continue to live as you have, free of the burdens that so clearly weigh on you.
His gut rumbled. Hadn’t he held up under that weight? He supposed his avoidance of society could be seen as a failure. And his brother. That was his biggest failure of them all.
Your brother wanted me to be the countess. To have the heir to the Crestwood estate. Honor him in death the way you never did in life and make his final wishes come true.
His fingers shook as he lay down the note. Did he owe this to his brother? Mayhap he did. But he’d never in his life touch Miranda again. That, however, didn’t make her words any less true. Did his lifestyle make him a terrible earl? Had he failed his brother’s memory in his attempt to take over the title?
And what would happen to Adrianna when she became a countess? Would Miranda shred her to pieces? Would the rest of society? Would he hurt her far worse for making her his wife than if he left her now?
Adrianna spent the afternoon selecting tablecloths, arranging flowers, and organizing seating charts. Cordelia and Juliette had gone into town to hire musicians for dancing in the latter part of the evening.
Bianca sat next to her, polishing the silver. Adrianna stared at her sister. She’d been wiping the same fork for the last ten minutes. “It’s got quite the shine, you know. Might be time to move on.”
Bianca’s eyes widened as she set the fork down and moved onto another. “This evening has me so distracted. Sorry.”
Adrianna gave her sister a small wink. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’m just teasing. But do tell, who has you discombobulated?”
Bianca sighed looking down at her fork. “Lord Craven.”
She swallowed down a yelp as her hands came to her chest. “Him?” Adrianna blinked as she studied her sister. She’d thought for certain that Bianca would have said Lord Dashlane.
Bianca began to rub the polish into the fork. “It’s not like that. He’s so dark and craggy and he stares at me and I don’t know why. I’m not sure how I feel about an entire evening with him.”
“Ah,” Adrianna said as she set her own spoon down. “He doesn’t strike me as cruel so my guess is, he fancies you. But proceed with caution.”
Bianca shrugged, her chin tucking down into her chest. “I hardly even look at him. I can’t. It makes my insides…” Her sister trailed off, but Adrianna’s brow lifted. This was beginning to sound serious.
“What does it make your insides do?”
Bianca shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do as you say. I’ll avoid him.”
“Just don’t turn your attention to Lord Dashlane. Juliet has her sights set on that one.” Adrianna grinned. “And you know how competitive she can be when she wants something.”
Bianca sighed. “Yes, I do. It’s a good thing she loves us and uses her schemes to mostly help us.”
> “Was she helping yesterday when she sent us after her cat?”
Bianca nodded. “Oh, most definitely. At least she tried to help you.”
Adrianna stopped. She supposed her sister had gotten her and Luke alone. She looked at her lap. “Lord Crestwood went to Papa’s office this morning to have a private conversation.”
Silverware tinkled as Bianca gasped. “No. Really? Did he ask for your hand? Is he going to propose?”
“I don’t know.” She rested her elbow on her knee, tucking her fist under her chin. “I hope so. Sometimes I think so and then other times…”
Bianca reached for her hand. “These men, they’re more complicated than we’re used to.”
Adrianna frowned. “Do you think complicated is good or bad?”
“I’m not certain.” Bianca let go and picked up her fork, starting to polish again. “When Papa would read us Shakespeare it would begin with, ‘this is a comedy or a tragedy,’ and then you’d know. The end is going to be happy or sad. But right now…” Bianca paused. “Just don’t allow him too many liberties until you know for certain.”
Adrianna winced as she thought back to their time on the beach. He’d stopped short of taking her maidenhead, which she was grateful for, but she wasn’t certain she’d have refused to go further with him if the choice had been hers.
They continued polishing in silence, Adrianna’s stomach fluttering with nerves. Bianca’s comment about this story being a comedy or a tragedy ringing in her ears. Did her infatuation with Lord Crestwood have a happy ending?
She shook her head. Did she want it to?
He made her breathless and filled her with desire. But he was also the one man she shouldn’t want. But she did. And she thought, when they talked, that he might want her too.
She realized she was the one who’d polished the same spoon for several minutes. Carefully setting the utensil aside, she picked up another. Tonight, one way or the other, she had to come to a conclusion with Luke.
Chapter Thirteen
Luke walked up the hill toward Moorish Manor flanked by Craven and Dashlane. Craven was silent, as usual, but Dashlane also stoically walked along, which was not at all his typical behavior. It might have made Luke laugh if he weren’t so caught up in his own thoughts. Dashlane acted as though the world might be ending.
Dashlane let out a long breath next to him. “I feel like I am about to attend my own funeral.”
Luke pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “It’s just one dinner.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re smitten.” Dashlane hit his thigh with his fist. “You’re likely to have fun tonight. Dance, flirt, maybe even steal a kiss.”
Desire made his body jolt. Luke had already stolen far more than a kiss. He fisted his hand. He’d been about to steal Adrianna’s entire future. Dreaming of acquiring land in Haversham and thinking about proposing. Hell, he’d begun to wonder if he’d fallen in love again.
The word love hit him like a block of bricks straight in the chest. Did he love her? He thought of how he’d given to her without taking. How her own pleasure had been more important to his. His chest tightened with an ache as he realized that he did.
Which was exactly the reason he should leave her be. He couldn’t be trusted with Adrianna’s future. Look at the mess his life was. She should marry a simpler man who could give her a beautiful future without the dirtiness of his past.
He’d have to tell her…tonight. Explain that he loved her and that this was for the best.
The ache in his chest dropped to his stomach. Leaving her would be so hard. He could almost taste the sweetness of a life with a woman like her. The feel of her curled in his arms, of her violet scent wrapped about him. The touch of her body as she pressed to him.
He nearly groaned aloud. Miranda had driven him to become a rake. He’d touched every woman he could to erase the memory of the one who’d broken him into a million pieces.
Adrianna. After her, he might become a monk. He never wanted to touch another woman again. Only her.
A sad smile graced his lips. Strange. She healed part of his heart but he still couldn’t have her. Well, he could but he wouldn’t. It turned out he loved her too much to do that to her.
They reached the drive and started up toward the house. The sun was setting and candlelight shimmered from several windows. He stopped, staring at the pretty façade. Amazing. The beauty of the outside actually represented the people within. He’d never in his life find this again.
“I don’t want to go in,” Dashlane said. “That Juliet is going to trap me in marriage and make me a miserable bloke for the rest of my life.”
That made Luke stop, a small chuckle rising to his lips. “She isn’t that good.”
Dashlane grimaced. “She might be. She’s got plans for me. Ones I want no part of.”
He raised a brow. “Can I ask you if you’re in denial or just-—”
“No.” Dashlane shook his head. “Even if I were the type to consider marriage, she isn’t the woman for me. I’m certain of that.”
“Then let her down quickly and easily,” Luke said gruffly, brooking no argument.
Craven looked at Luke. “Is Adrianna the woman for you?”
“Yes.” He wanted to hit something. Hard. “But she deserves so much better than me.”
Neither of his friends answered as they reached the front steps and he raised his hand to knock.
Ushered up the stairs, they entered the music room to find the family sitting in a semicircle, each looking at their father.
Mr. Moorish stood at its center repeating a Shakespearean sonnet. He couldn’t remember what work it hailed from, but the words echoed in his heart.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
The words hit Luke square in the stomach. Would he love Adrianna forever? His feelings only altered by death itself? Christ. How could he ever let her go? His gaze flew to hers and she stared back.
She looked more lovely than ever, straight-backed, with her blonde hair coiled into a loose coif and her blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. He wished to cross the room and pull her into embrace. Instead, he remained rooted where he stood.
“Good evening,” Mr. Moorish’s voice boomed across the room, a deep lyrical baritone. “So good of you gentlemen to come.”
All of the sisters rose from their seats. Adrianna stood too, her graceful body riveting his gaze to her.
He sucked in a breath, watching the candlelight shimmer off the purple silk of her gown. By God he wanted to touch her.
Distantly, Luke realized introductions were being made but he hardly heard them and as he crossed the room, he pressed his hands to his stomach to keep from reaching out to her. He was supposed to stay away from her. After reading Miranda’s letter, he knew he should say goodbye but that was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Damn it. As usual, he had no self-control.
She gave him a tentative smile as he came to stand in front of her. He clenched his jacket to refrain from touching her right away. “You look ravishing,” he said.
Color rose in her cheeks as she looked down at the floor. “So do you.”
“Shall we take a turn about the room?” He held out his elbow, and she slipped her hand into his arm.
Ne
ither spoke as they began walking around the perimeter of the music room. Cordelia moved to the pianoforte, striking up a merry tune. The music afforded them some measure of privacy. “How did you find working on the bridge today?” she asked, moving along next to him.
“I liked it just fine,” he answered, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. He’d liked it far better than that. It had felt wonderful to be useful, out in the open air.
She nodded. “And your discussion with my father?” Her hand tightened on his arm.
His frown deepened. “Your father is both wise and interesting.”
“And what did the two of you discuss?”
Her voice had dropped so low that he hardly heard her. But he did hear the underlying hope in her question. He stopped, turning toward her. “We discussed the man I want to be.”
Her gaze had been trained on the floor but at those words, she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide. “And?”
“And what?” But he realized this conversation’s direction and he shifted from one foot to the other. She’d wished his private discussion with her father meant she’d receive an offer of marriage. Bloody bullocks. This was worse than he’d ever imagined.
Her eyes widened as her lips parted. Adrianna’s chest filled with air as the color drained from her face. Suddenly her mouth snapped back closed again. “I’ve been such a fool, haven’t I?”
She started to turn to leave but he held her hand, not letting her go. “No. You haven’t.”
Her lip trembled. “I’m supposed to be the savvy one. The one who is capable of protecting my sisters.”
“You are.” He tried to bring her closer, but she stepped back, her hand pulling out from under his. “Adrianna, you are glorious and strong and so beautiful. If you’ve one flaw it’s that you’ve lived a sheltered life.” He knew that made her ill-equipped to enter his life, but he also loved that about her. “Though I hardly think that’s a flaw at all. Still, if you’re to protect your sisters, you are even more prepared now than you were before.”
Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances Page 17