A wave of disappointment washed over Adele. She had imagined that Harold would take her into his arms and express his relief. She thought he might kiss her.
“What do you think of my laboratory?” he asked, swinging around to face her again. “I had it converted two years ago.”
She had to work hard to recover from her disappointment and show interest in this passion of his. She moved more fully into the conservatory and looked up at the glass ceiling. “What did you do with all the plants?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure what they did. It wasn’t my concern, really. I was more interested in where the tables would be placed. The light is excellent, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
He gave her a tour of the laboratory and showed her a chemical heating lamp that a local tinsmith had made, which Harold was very proud of. He showed her his alkalimeters, his acidimeters, his hydrometers, his eudiometers, and his pestles and mortars and gas tubes. He was particularly proud of his collection of scientific circulars.
As soon as he had shown her everything, an uncomfortable silence ensued.
“Well, I should leave you to your work, then,” Adele said, laboring to sound cheerful. “Perhaps later, we could begin the tour you suggested.”
“Tour?” he asked, looking slightly baffled.
“Of the house and gardens. You said you’d show me around.”
His face split into a wide grin. “Oh yes! A tour! I would be most happy to do that, yes!” He glanced around at the papers lying about. “Just give me a few minutes to finish what I’m doing here. Why don’t I come and fetch you in an hour or so?”
Adele nodded. “That would be very nice, Harold. Thank you.”
She picked up her skirts and climbed the steps, telling herself that she would feel better in the days to come, after she and Harold had time to be alone together and talk, and become more acquainted with each other.
Adele stood on the front steps of Osulton Manor and watched Clara dash into the arms of her husband, Seger, who she had not seen since she’d left England over a month ago.
“I missed you!” Clara said as Seger swung her around. “Next time, you’re coming with me.”
“Next time, I most definitely will,” he replied, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her passionately, for everyone to see.
Adele gasped at the shocking display of physical affection and felt the others gasp, too. Then they all looked away, pretending not to notice, except for two footmen, who enjoyed the spectacle and nudged each other.
Clara took her husband’s hand and dragged him up the stairs to introduce him to everyone. Adele heard someone whisper, “Those Americans.”
While Seger met the family, Adele noticed a rider coming up the hill. It was Damien. He circled around to the stables at the back of the house.
A short while later, Clara and Seger retired to their rooms to spend time alone with baby Anne, and everyone dispersed. Adele was left alone in the main entrance hall with Harold.
“Perhaps I could take you on the tour tomorrow,” he suggested. “I’m in the middle of a very complex experiment and I would like to return to the conservatory. Tomorrow would be better for me.”
Adele wondered why he continued to call it a conservatory when it was quite another thing altogether. She kept her opinions to herself, however. “Tomorrow will be fine, Harold.”
He hurried off to finish what he had begun.
Adele stood alone in the center of the round hall and felt a tremendous longing to be outdoors. Though she was disappointed that Harold wished to work on his experiment, she was still very pleased and happy about the doctor’s news earlier. She glanced toward the front door and remembered seeing Damien not more than a few minutes ago, riding toward the stables.
She also remembered what he had said to her at the inn—that it would be dangerous for them to speak to each other, especially alone.
But surely, she could just tell him this one small bit of news. She couldn’t very well leave him to wonder about it.
For a moment or two, she dithered over what to do, then gave in and decided she would break the rule just this once. It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. She would just tell him the news, then return to the house.
She ventured out the front door and made her way around to the back, her leather boots crunching over the clean, white gravel. The air smelled of roses and clipped green grass. She glanced down the hill toward the woods and longed for the smells down there. A leisurely ride would certainly clear her head. Perhaps Harold would finish his work early and be willing to join her later.
She walked to the stables, didn’t see anyone around, so quietly entered where the doors were flung open, letting the sun stream onto the wide, plank floor. Inside, the smell of hay and horses wafted to her nostrils, and she breathed deeply, basking in it. She had been too long in a cabin on a boat, and then trapped in a tiny cottage with no escape. Her bones were kicking to enjoy freedom, her heart longing to gallop.
Thinking of such freedoms made her remember her conversation with Clara the night before, when Clara had used the word “repressed.” Adele realized that the only time she felt truly “free” was when she went riding or running in the woods. It was a natural place where everything was real. There were no expectations in the woods. No rules to worry about.
Adele wandered down the long row of stalls, stroking the horses’ soft, silky noses, enjoying the sounds they made as they nuzzled her palm. Just then, she heard a familiar voice inside the next stall. It was Damien, and she stopped, her heart racing.
She contemplated her frustrating response. She had thought she would be able to control her feelings when she saw him, but there she stood, suffering from yet another attack of exhilaration—and she hadn’t even seen him yet.
Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. Feeling apprehensive and anxious, she turned quickly to leave, but then she heard him talking to his horse. She stopped again. What was he saying? His voice was too low to decipher. She listened for a few seconds, then couldn’t help herself. She turned back and peered around the corner.
He was feeding an apple to the horse. She heard the crunching sound; she could even smell the apple. It reminded her of home, of their orchard in Wisconsin. Then she noticed a bucket full of juicy red apples just outside the stall.
Damien picked up a brush and began to groom his horse. She thought she was the only one who groomed her own horse. Her mother constantly said, “That’s what servants are for,” but Adele liked to do it. She had done it since she was a girl and she did not wish to give it up. It was the only thing she did that her mother disapproved of, though her mother had long ago stopped mentioning it.
Adele watched Damien for a moment. He had removed his riding jacket and wore a black waistcoat over a crisp white shirt. His hair looked windblown, spilling onto his collar as it had when he’d first burst into her room to rescue her from the kidnapper.
He had two looks, she realized—the rugged outdoorsman and the elegant London gentleman. She believed she liked the outdoorsman the best. It was more natural and untampered with. It was the look she found most fascinating.
Soon she was mesmerized by the sight of his big hand holding the brush, smoothly stroking the horse’s shiny coat. Damien’s muscular shoulder moved with such a lovely grace. The strength and breadth of his back was indeed worthy of admiration….
“I don’t suppose you’d like to help,” he said casually, and it took Adele a few seconds to realize that he was talking to her.
Blushing with embarrassment, she stepped out from behind the post. “It seems I’ve been discovered.”
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned, and she melted. She had to put her hand on the post to keep from toppling over into the next stall.
Damien turned his attention back to the task of stroking his most fortunate ho
rse, while Adele moved a little closer. “I thought you might like to know what happened with Dr. Lidden.”
Damien froze mid-stroke. He stood still for a few seconds, then he lowered the brush to his side, turned and walked toward her. His boots swished across the hay and Adele felt the heat of his approach like a fast-moving fire, soon too hot to bear.
“And?” he said, stopping before her.
She smelled the natural scent of his body. It was so familiar. It assaulted her senses like a storm. “All is well,” she replied shakily.
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank goodness.”
“Yes,” she repeated.
He stood before her, saying nothing. She didn’t know what to say either. They had vowed to keep away from each other after their arrival at Osulton Manor. Yet here she was.
“And everything else is all right?” he asked. “You’re comfortable here? You have everything you need?”
She nodded quickly.
“Good,” he said.
Still he did not turn away. His horse nickered. Adele would nicker, too, if she were waiting for Damien to finish rubbing her down.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, in a soft, husky voice. “I was thinking about you.”
Feeling an onslaught of potent yearning, she gazed up at his dark eyes and strove to be sensible. She thought of his mistresses. She thought about his reputation and the fact that he was Harold’s cousin, and she was engaged to Harold and did not want to jeopardize that, for she was happy with her choice.
Harold was a very nice man. He was the right choice for her. The temptation she felt around Damien was dangerous, and she had no business feeling impassioned in his presence. She would never want to marry him.
Why, then, could she not make these wayward feelings go away? Why could she not resist the wanton desire to see him, and the urge to stay here in the stables with him and do more than just talk?
Adele breathed faster. “I was thinking about you, too. I mean.... I wanted you to know that everything was fine.”
They stood facing each other, saying nothing, and Adele thought her heart was going to give out. His eyes searched her face—from the top of her head to her lips, where he lingered a moment, then down the length of her body to her feet and back up again.
It felt strangely as if he had touched her in all those places. She felt weak and exposed before a man who possessed a great deal of experience and command when it came to women. It was no wonder he’d had so many lovers. She suspected most women would tumble into his arms quite happily when faced with this.
“So now I’ve told you,” she said crisply and succinctly. “So, I should get back to the house.”
He tilted his head, looking at her with disabling, spellbinding eyes. “Yes, you should.”
Her lips parted. “All right then,” she said, feeling utterly ridiculous. “I’ll go.”
She turned and left the stable, but felt his eyes watching her the entire way out.
Chapter 13
Still in her nightgown the following morning, Adele left her bedchamber and went to her mother’s room. She knocked softly, for it was still early, and entered. Her mother was asleep with her mouth open, snoring.
Adele approached the bed and whispered, “Mother?”
Always a light sleeper, Beatrice woke. She gazed drowsily at Adele, then lifted the heavy covers. “Adele, darling. Get in. It’s chilly.”
Adele climbed into the warm bed and lay next to her mother. It reminded her of the days in Wisconsin when the family used to sleep together in the one-room cabin. They’d had no servants to light a fire in the morning, so they often snuggled close.
Adele waited a few minutes before she spoke. “Can I ask you something?”
Beatrice opened her eyes. “Of course.”
“You and Father always said I was the most well behaved of your three girls. I never got into trouble, and I’m trying to understand why I was so different from Sophia and Clara.”
Her mother rested a hand on Adele’s cheek. “You were different from the moment you were born. Even as a baby, you never complained when I put you to bed. You went to sleep. When you were a little girl, you were always happy and very independent. You never threw a tantrum or fought against anything.”
“But I fought against Sophia and Clara. I tattled on them. I didn’t like it when they broke the rules.”
Her mother thought about that for a moment. “That happened in New York. You didn’t do that so much in Wisconsin. You usually went your own way.”
“I changed when we moved?”
“Well, you were growing up.”
Adele thought about her life, how she’d always felt it was divided in two. First, she had been “Adele in Wisconsin,” who had loved her pony and went riding alone in the woods. Then she had become “Adele in New York,” who had loved her parents and wanted to please them, and often felt frustrated with her sisters, who did what they wanted when she could not.
Why couldn’t she?
“Do you think I was born with this personality, to be good?”
“We are all born with a natural disposition.”
“But can that disposition change?”
Her mother’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong, Adele? Are you not happy? Has your ordeal—”
“No, I am very happy, Mother. Please do not worry. I just want to understand the person I am supposed to be.”
Beatrice smiled. “You are supposed to be you. And you are perfect, Adele.”
Perfect. There it was again. That word. It had never made her uncomfortable before. She usually took pride in it and enjoyed pleasing others. But now, since she’d been kidnapped, and since she’d let Damien kiss her and lie with her in the darkness, she felt as if she might be an impostor, and the walls around her were closing in, threatening to squeeze the very life out of her. She could barely breathe.
Over breakfast the next day, Adele smiled and took part in animated conversations about her nuptials. Her mother and Eustacia sat together at one end of the table, clucking like hens, while Violet sent amused, knowing glances Adele’s way.
The family seamstress was mentioned, and Violet practically dropped her teacup into her saucer. “Oh no, Mother, you must consider a designer in London. Or perhaps that Worth fellow in Paris. Adele’s marriage to Harold must be perfect, and to be perfect, she must have the very newest fashion. Her sister Sophia wore a wedding gown by Charles Worth, and she is a duchess, after all.”
Eustacia’s face lit up with interest, and Adele’s mother beamed, nodding with pride. “Oh yes,” she said. “It must absolutely be a Worth gown.”
Adele glanced across the white-clothed table at her future sister-in-law, Violet, who looked very pleased with herself. Adele, on the other hand, heard only the word “perfect,” and felt a great pressure squeezing around her chest.
After breakfast, Adele asked where Harold might be, for she was looking forward to her tour of the house and gardens, and she didn’t want to think about wedding plans anymore. They were becoming too complicated, and everyone seemed to be getting carried away with the details. Adele wanted only to begin her new life and get to know her fiancé better. She wanted to feel that this was her home, so she would finally be able to relax here. That’s what mattered to her. Not the color of the bridesmaids’ sashes.
She was told Harold would be in the conservatory. Or rather, the laboratory. She made her way there and entered. Her fiancé stepped out from behind a wall of bookcases. He saw her and jumped with fright.
“Oh, good gracious!” he said, resting a hand on his chest. “You surprised me, Adele.” He smiled awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”
Adele approached him. He wore a white apron with a dark stain on the front. As she came closer, she noticed he smelled like sulphur.
“You promised to show me the
house and gardens today. I’m especially looking forward to a tour of the stables. I heard you have some of the finest horses in England.”
He gave her a flustered look. “I was just about to begin something here. You see, I’m working on the idea I discussed with your father regarding a new synthetic dye.” He gestured toward a number of jars on the table. “I am in the process of producing something artificial that I believe will be more practical than any natural concoction. It’s quite exciting, don’t you think?”
Adele looked at the bottles. “Yes, it’s very exciting.”
“Your father believes it has business potential.” An awkward silence arose and lingered. “Perhaps Damien could show you the stables,” Harold suggested, sounding frazzled.
Adele’s heart turned over in her chest. “I beg your pardon?”
“Damien?”
Adele froze. There was a movement at the back corner of the conservatory, close to the far windows, from behind the one potted plant that had managed to survive the renovation.
Hands behind his back, looking as if he had not wanted to be discovered, he stepped into view. “Good morning, Miss Wilson.”
“Good morning,” she replied, straightening her shoulders and feeling oddly defensive.
Harold smiled enthusiastically. “Yes! This is most opportune! Damien is the perfect person to show you the stables. It’s his doing, you know,” Harold said proudly, “acquiring the best horses. He’s knowledgeable about that sort of thing. Damien, would you be so kind as to show my lovely betrothed to the stables?”
Adele wanted to sink through the floor. Damien didn’t want to show her the stables. He had not even wanted to be discovered.
“Of course,” he said, politely.
Adele put up her hand. “Please, I don’t want to be a bother. I can wait, Harold. Truly. I wanted to see everything with you. Don’t feel you have to entertain me. I don’t want to intrude upon your experiments, and clearly, Lord Alcester was here talking to you before I interrupted and—”
In Love with the Viscount (American Heiress Trilogy Book 3) Page 11
