He kept her hand in his, placing it upon his chest right over his heart. She thought she could feel it racing at a speed rivaling her own.
“Elaine.” Her given name was a plea on his lips. “I know you have no need of me, but I have come to need you. More desperately every day. I have tried, and failed, to resist my growing affection for you. You deserve so much better, so much more, than what I have to offer. You see, I have only myself, and you ought to be given all the treasures of the earth. But you have only to tell me—Elaine, you must tell me how to win your forgiveness. I must have that. Because you have to know that when I say I love you, I mean it.”
If only he could love her. Everything in her life would change, her whole world would shift to allow him to occupy the very center of it.
“You cannot love me. I am nothing, no one important. The children, they need me.” Her protests were ill-formed and weak, and tears blurred her vision. “You only think you want me, but it’s the inheritance—”
“The money can all go to the blazes,” he retorted sharply. “I would go with you to Ipswich tomorrow and live in your seamstress shop with you.”
The sudden vision of Adam, large and bold, standing in the middle of her old front room while she measured lace was so ridiculous she actually smiled. “You would not.”
He took up her other hand, somewhat tentatively. “I would. And I am considering the children. I know what their future means to you.”
He lowered his voice and spoke in earnest. “Write to Tuttle-Kirk, tell him I do not deserve sixpence. Not a thing from my uncle. I have a document you must send him, tell him to look over every word. It’s a marriage contract which makes your husband beholden to you for every farthing he spends.”
Her throat tightened so only one word could escape. “Husband?” He had mentioned a marriage contract before, but not like this. Not in this half-frenzied, half-desperate appeal.
Adam had made himself vulnerable, bared his heart to her. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered, bending closer to her, blue eyes searching hers. “Tell me how to prove to you how much I love you.”
Those words again. He had declared them twice. They stood so close, she could hardly hear the waves and wind anymore, not over the sound of her heart and her mind telling her to take her chance at happiness.
“The children?” she asked, still less than coherent. It did not seem to matter. Adam understood.
“I adore them, too,” he promised, coming closer still. His eyes dropped briefly from hers, to her mouth, and then up again. “They are ours, Elaine. If you will have me.”
He had called them that before, just that morning. “I have found both our wayward children.” He had meant it not as a figure of speech, but in all sincerity. For as long as Elaine remembered, she had worked hard to care for herself and to care for others. No one, not since her father’s passing, had looked after her or made her feel as safe and protected as Adam.
“May I kiss you?” he asked, voice low and gentle. “Perhaps that would help persuade—”
Elaine rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, quite unsure of herself, but one of his hands cupped the back of her head, knocking her bonnet askew as he returned her kiss. Nothing prepared her for what it felt like to love someone, and then to share such an intimate expression of that love. His lips were warm and soft, but strong and more than capable of communicating his affection and desire. She tried to keep up with him, wanted him to understand that she felt the same, that she wholly forgave him.
Their lips parted and he moved his hand from the back of her head to her cheek, the soft leather of his glove diminishing his gentle touch not at all.
“Do not send me away,” he said again, staring at her with hope in his eyes. “Marry me instead.”
Her heart answered for her. “Yes. Oh, Adam. I love you. Yes.”
Nothing had ever been so beautiful as his smile, or so incredible as the next kiss he bestowed upon her. “I will spend my life proving to you that this is the right decision.” Then Adam pulled her around to the lighthouse entrance, holding her hand. “Would you like to see the lighthouse now?”
Elaine nodded, as she knew she must. Kissing, as much as she preferred it, was not precisely an appropriate activity.
A thought came to her and she pulled Adam to a stop. “Can we wait to announce an engagement?” she asked quietly, then bit her lip when he tilted his head to the side, regarding her curiously. “I have not met your family, people barely know me, and I am afraid of—” Of everything. “—what might be said.”
The light in his eyes dimmed, but his understanding smile remained. “As you wish, my Elaine.” He squeezed her hand gently, then opened the door for her. The winding staircase of the lighthouse before them, Elaine said nothing else until they reached the top.
Philippa and the keeper of the light stood at the rail, the children between them, pointing at boats upon the sea. Elaine joined Philippa, catching the woman’s curious glance before turning her own attention out to the water. Adam stood beside her, his hand next to hers on the rail.
The world had shifted, as Elaine knew it would. Adam loved her.
Nothing had ever given Adam as much joy as Elaine’s kiss, save her agreement to marry him. Even as they rode back to Tertium Park in the carriage, Adam marveled at the unexpected change in his life and heart. Nancy sleeping against Elaine’s shoulder necessitated the others remain quiet, and Adam did not mind. His heart was full, and the occasional sweet glances Elaine sent his direction assured him her feelings were real. He had not imagined kissing her, admitting his love, or requesting her hand in marriage.
Pointedly ignoring his sister’s knowing smile, Adam kept his thoughts hidden as well as he could. Since the first time he proposed she seek an arranged marriage, Adam’s thoughts had continuously touched upon the idea. First in defense of it, though Elaine had rejected the idea thoroughly. Then he had wondered if she would object to the idea of marrying him. More recently, every time he glimpsed Elaine walking in the gardens, or she sought him for an opinion, he found himself longing to stay by her side. Walk with her. Linger just to hear the sound of her voice.
The carriage arrived at last and Elaine made to wake Nancy. “Allow me. She has had a busy day.” The children had torn off shoes and stockings to race the waves along the shoreline while the adults walked along behind, Elaine and Philippa discussing the coming ball. It had been perfect.
Elaine helped adjust Nancy so Adam could take her up in his arms without waking her, the little girl’s cheek against his shoulder. Walking through the halls with such a precious armful presented a different perspective to Adam in regard to his relationship with Elaine. William led the way to the nursery, where Miss Mallet appeared to help tuck Nancy into bed.
The children were part of Elaine’s life, and had become part of his. He had given little thought to children in the past. He had no nieces or nephews, no experience outside of coming to know the boy and girl Elaine had brought with her. How had they all worked their way into his heart so quickly?
Adam came back to the foyer, where Philippa and Elaine waited. At his step, Elaine turned around with the familiar light she seemed to emit drawing him to her. Her gentle heart had helped him remember his own. Selfishness had been easier, had been smarter. Or so he thought, when he had to fight for what little he had. His family forever competed against each other, which made it difficult to feel at ease amongst them.
“Did she stay asleep?” Elaine asked, her voice low as though the child was still on his shoulder.
“Yes, quite oblivious to the world around her.” Adam stood near enough he could have stretched out a finger to brush her hand. In the space of a day, Adam had been certain he lost Elaine forever, only to then gain her hand in marriage. How had it happened? How could he be so fortunate?
Philippa sighed deeply. “Oblivious. What an apt description.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at her. “Something you wish to say, Pippa?”
“Not at all. Except that I had a lovely time. It was very good to see you again, Miss Chapple.”
They were taking their leave. He supposed it was past time to be on their way back to the Montecliff estate. “Thank you for indulging us this afternoon, Miss Chapple.” Adam bowed as he spoke, trying to relay more with his eyes than he could with his words.
“Thank you both for the surprise. It will not be something that the children, or I, soon forget.” Her expression softened, her lips turning upward in the faintest of smiles.
Somehow, Philippa herded him out of the house and back into the phaeton. The top had been put up by the driver while they were inside, and the skies had started to turn gloomy with clouds coming in. Their excursion had been perfectly timed.
His sister adjusted her bonnet ribbons, untying and retying them. Adam leaned back into his seat, considering his future. Elaine had said yes, when he had been certain she would withhold her trust for the rest of his miserable life.
“I do hope that silly look on your face means that you have come to an understanding with Miss Chapple.” Philippa spoke somewhat haughtily, though her blue eyes sparkled merrily at him.
Adam chuckled. “Perhaps. But I will thank you to say nothing of it to anyone.”
She placed a hand over her heart. “Adam, I am the very soul of discretion.” She gave him a long, pleased look. “I like her, very much.”
Everything would settle into place soon enough. All would be well.
Chapter 18
The remaining days leading up to the ball were as joyous and torturous as Adam had ever experienced. He put the finishing touches on a surprise for Elaine, one he knew would please her the instant she learned of it. He met with her for walks in the garden with the children, her companion present as well. Miss Flyte had proven to be exactly the sort of person Elaine wanted nearby, even though she was several years younger than her new mistress.
He went home each evening with a full heart but was greeted with a cold silence from his mother. Until she lost her patience with him. She had railed at him for nearly an hour, questioning him, his intentions toward the former seamstress, accusing him of betraying his family. Adam bore it all, until the moment she told him he should leave the family home.
“That is for no one but Richard and his wife to decide,” Adam had said.
His mother had scoffed at him. “Do you not think he will banish you the moment he returns? His disappointment over his inability to void the will can only drive him to anger when he sees what you have been up to.”
Adam hadn’t said anything more but left her presence without apology. They had not spoken to each other since.
When he came home Thursday evening, the day before the Carringtons’ ball, his mother startled him by speaking at the dinner table.
“Adam, your sister and I have had a most interesting discussion this afternoon.” She gestured in Philippa’s direction and his sister halted her spoon mid-way to her mouth.
“Mother, I do not think—”
The dowager countess spoke over her daughter’s protests. “Philippa pointed out to me the advantages of your friendliness for that insipid creature at Tertium Park. She reminded me that I encouraged you to make yourself indispensable to Miss Chapple. You have obviously done so, even standing against your own mother when I attempted to put her in her proper place.”
Fingers tightening around his spoon, Adam said nothing. He clenched his jaw and waited.
“She must trust you,” his mother continued, her voice turning sly. “Which places you in a wonderful position. You could influence her to sell her land. Your uncle bought up so much of it. Even some of the Montecliff property a few years ago when there was some difficulty with your father’s creditors.”
At that, Adam’s eyes snapped up. He had not seen those land purchases. They had to have been more than ten years old. “When was that?” he asked, somewhat surprised.
“Fifteen years ago, I believe. You could help restore those lands to your brother.” Mother chuckled to herself. “That would be wonderful. There were some beautiful fields, I believe, and a few tenant cottages. It could belong to the family again.”
Philippa spoke hastily. “Mother, that is not why I told you how well Miss Chapple and Adam get along. I only wanted you to realize that she is not all the things you have been saying about her.”
“What things?” Adam asked, eyes flicking from Philippa to his mother. “What have you said about her?”
With a wave she dismissed his question. “Perhaps if we are very fortunate, she will more than trust you. Depend upon it, given your features and the charm I believe you capable of, you could woo your great-uncle’s fortune from her through marriage.”
To hear his former idea spoken matter-of-factly, as though it were the most practical thing in the world to suggest, by his mother shocked him. Finally, he understood Elaine’s reaction to his first proposal. He had thought himself pragmatic and her too much of a romantic. He had thought her foolish to not consider the idea. Finally, falling in love with her, his reasons for marriage changed. With love in his heart, and Elaine’s happiness dependent upon him, the idea of marrying in such a mercenary manner sickened him.
Calmly, Adam pushed his chair back. He rose slowly, searching for the right words. “Mother, your suggestion is repulsive.” She gaped at him, then glared. “Whatever you might think of me, Miss Chapple is too clever a woman to marry any man who does not see her for the angel that she is. She has survived these last eight years without a guardian, while caring for two children. She has an education any lady would be pleased to possess. As much as I should like to think she depends upon me, if I were to leave for the Indies tomorrow, she would get along perfectly well.”
With her nose wrinkled in disdain, Lady Fredericka, Countess of Montecliff, scoffed at him. “I have never heard anything so ridiculous. She is a seamstress. A peasant. You paint her as some sort of saint. Who is it that holds the power and influence in your relationship with her, Adam?” She spoke the question as a challenge, questioning his place in the world where the strong always won out over the gentle.
“Miss Chapple,” he answered easily, allowing a smile to turn up his lips. “It is a shame you will never understand why. Good night, Mother. Philippa. Thank you for trying.” He bowed to his sister, then left the dining room.
He had only made it up a few steps to the second floor, where his guest room was located, when someone behind him cleared their throat. Adam paused and turned, surprised to see the butler at the foot of the staircase.
“Rigby? What is it?” Adam took a step back down.
“I am sorry to bother you, Mr. Gillensford. But the lady you were speaking of, Miss Chapple.” The butler looked slightly horrified at the words coming from his mouth. Breaking protocol and acknowledging to listening to the family squabble was hardly appropriate behavior for one in his station. “My niece was maid to her for a time, and is now a lady’s maid. She has told me, sir, and the family that she has never met a kinder lady in all her life. All the Tertium Park people say the same.”
Although confused by the butler’s adamant manner, Adam attempted to answer him thoughtfully. “I would agree with that assessment, Rigby.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Gillensford, but I can tell a difference in you since she has come to Orford.” The butler paled. “I only wished to say that I am glad she is come, even though I have never laid eyes upon her.”
Adam considered the servant for a time, the butler resumed his proper stance and appeared ready to accept whatever rebuke Adam might give him. Instead, Adam chuckled. “I am glad for it, too. Thank you.” The butler bowed and scurried away. The exchange struck Adam as odd, but it also gave him the beginnings of an idea.
The servants of Orford’s gentility and nobility were widely connected, with nephews and daughters, brothers and aunts, all scattered between the finer houses. If Rigby had heard such things from his niece and dared to pass them on, then perhaps others might do t
he same.
The thought stayed with him through the night, which he spent in wakefulness more often than in sleep. When the morning came, Adam skipped breakfast. He could ask for something at Tertium Park. As eager as he was to arrive early and speak to Graham and Mrs. Mayworth, Adam sped the footman acting as his valet along in his duties.
He arrived at Tertium and entered by the servant’s door, through the side of the house where the kitchens were. Everyone inside was already busy and cleaning up. Elaine and the children took breakfast earlier than Adam had ever known anyone to take breakfast.
It made him smile. Slowly, his schedule had adjusted to hers, along with the rest of the household. Elaine rose early to begin her day with purpose, and her attitude had soon spread to the servants. Yet everyone seemed happy to go about their work, chattering as he walked through the servant hall.
Mrs. Mayworth saw him at the very same moment he spotted her. With a final word to the maid she spoke to, she lifted her chin imperiously and made her way to where he stood on the threshold of the kitchen doorway.
“Mr. Gillensford, good morning. What might I do for you, sir?” She acted as though they always found each other in the servants’ part of the house.
“I wondered if I might have a word with you and Graham this morning.” Adam gave her his most endearing smile, the one that had won him a cookie from her when she’d been one of the upper maids more than a decade before.
She nodded and gestured for him to follow her. “Right this way. Mr. Graham is in the pantry organizing the silver.”
The butler found, Adam hardly waited for the door to shut behind them in the spacious closet before he spoke. “I have thought of a way to help Miss Chapple, but I wish to know how practical it might be.”
They stared at him, their expressions somewhat befuddled on Graham’s part and surprised on Mrs. Mayworth’s.
His Unexpected Heiress (Entangled Inheritance Book 2) Page 20
