He gestured toward the other wing chair. “Diana, please sit down.” He took a seat across from her.
There were times he wished he was not a compassionate man, that he could act according to necessity and not be affected by it. He had been compassionate for his irrational wife when she’d collapsed in tears or flown into a rage, and he was compassionate now for Diana, knowing he was about to break her heart.
It had always been his weakness—another person’s suffering—and he knew it. He also knew he had to work hard to stand strong and do what must be done, no matter how painful it was.
She perched on the edge of the chair, her back stiff and straight, her hands clasped together tightly on her lap, and he detected her wariness.
Perhaps she had sensed the lack of feeling in him since she’d arrived, compared to the days long ago when he’d loved and worshiped her in Yorkshire. Since she’d stepped off the ship here in Cumberland, she’d confessed her happiness to him numerous times, and not once had he responded in kind.
“What is it, Adam?”
God, this was difficult. “I’m afraid we need to talk about the situation here….”
The situation here? Hell, he could do better than that.
“What do you mean?” She reached across to take his hand in hers. “You look so serious. You’re scaring me.”
He squeezed her hand in return and paused a moment before speaking, then disciplined himself into a steely resolve. “This is difficult to say, Diana, but surely you must recognize that we are not the same people we once were, that there has been a lifetime of experiences between us, and a great deal has changed.”
She smiled charmingly. “Well, of course things have changed, and I’m glad. You are a landowner now, Adam. A wealthy one. You have accomplished tremendous things, when before, we were both young and knew nothing of the world.”
“It’s more than that, my dear. I may have wealth, but I am not an aristocrat and I will never be one. In my heart, I am still just a simple farmer. You, on the other hand, are every inch a proper lady and, in your heart, I think you always were.”
She laughed. “I don’t understand, Adam.”
He shook his head. “I’m not saying this well at all. It…it has nothing to do with rank or class or wealth. It has more to do with—” he touched a fist to his chest “—with our hearts.”
“But my heart has always belonged to you. Even while I was married.” There was a pleading note to her voice all of a sudden. It tied his gut into a knot.
“Has it really? Or has it belonged to a dream of me?”
“I still don’t understand what you are trying to say.”
Adam leaned back in his chair, searching for the grit to see this through. “We don’t know each other, Diana, and I’m not certain we ever did. Something gave you reason not to marry me years ago, and whatever that reason was, it still exists. We are different people. Your feelings for me have merely been a way of escaping whatever was missing in your own marriage, just as my feelings for you were an escape when times were difficult. We both wanted to return to the past when we were innocent and happy and knew nothing of the kind of pain or loneliness life can bring, but we can’t go back to that innocence. All we can do is learn from the past and move forward.”
Her jaw clenched visibly and her tone deepened. “What is your point, Adam?”
He suspected she already knew, but he had to say it anyway. “My point is—I don’t think we should marry.”
Her chin rose as she gathered her dignity around her. “I beg your pardon?”
He forced himself to say it again, as if it weren’t hard enough the first time. “I believe it would be a mistake for us to marry.”
The pleading tone returned to her voice. “But…maybe it’s…maybe we just need time alone together. We need to start again. How can we enjoy each other in a house full of children? Maybe we should think about sending the younger ones away to school. Then we could go back to what it was like when we—”
Adam felt sick. “I do not wish to send my children away.”
She confronted his resolute answer with a look of anger. “This makes no sense. Surely you are not put off me because I have risen in life. If anything, you should be honored and grateful that I have come all this way to marry you. I am Lady Thurston!”
Pausing to allow her time to let the shock settle in, Adam leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.
“You are a beautiful, charming woman, Diana, and I have had difficulty myself letting go of the dream of you. But that’s all it was—a dream. In reality, we are not compatible. You are in love with the man you want me to be, not the man that I am. I couldn’t possibly hire other people to do my work for me. I like my work. I want to plow my own fields and stick my hands in the dirt at harvest time, and I doubt you would enjoy welcoming me home after I’ve just slaughtered a hog.”
A delicate finger came up to rest under her nose. “Good gracious, Adam, there’s no need to be cruel, saying such things to me.”
Adam wondered with a sigh which part she considered more cruel: his breaking off their engagement, or his mentioning the hog slaughter.
“You see, Diana, we are not right for each other. You would be much happier with a different kind of man.”
She continued to hold her head high. “You sounded like Madeline just now, talking about sticking your hands in the dirt. What is it about dirt that people always like to torture me with it?”
Baffled by her comment—baffled by everything about her—he patted her hand. “I am deeply sorry for bringing you all this way for nothing.”
“You are sorry? Sorry!” She snatched her hand out of his grasp and stood. “I spent six weeks on a stench-filled boat with a bunch of laborers! Now, you have the nerve to tell me that I am the one who is living in a fantasy! You were the one to send the proposal! You were the one who started all of this! You’ve barely spoken two words to me since I’ve arrived, yet you presume to think you know enough about me to conclude that we are not right for each other. Is it because I am older? Am I not as beautiful as you remembered? Is it my hair? Have you noticed the gray?”
Adam stood. “No, Diana, you are as beautiful as ever.”
“Then what, may I ask, has changed since you wrote to Father to ask for my hand in marriage?” Her voice was harsh and demanding.
Not entirely sure how much he should say, or how truthful he should be, he replied simply, “I have changed.”
The features of her face hardened; her voice faded to a hush. “How? And why?”
Adam moved to stand in the center of the room. “It grieves me to say this, Diana, but I have changed because I’ve met someone who…someone who sees the world the way I do. I have learned to appreciate what is here before me in the present, to let go of the past and all the pain that went with it. I have met someone who is, I believe, my true mate.”
That last comment shook her physically. “There’s someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Who? Who has cheated me out of my place in your heart, and stolen you away when I have waited so long?”
“I can not tell you who.”
“Why? Are you afraid I will go to her and tell her what a faithless, fickle man you are? That you could propose to a woman one week, and forget her the next?”
“It wasn’t as simple as that. I was not cavalier about this.”
“Then what was it? How could you sweep me from your heart so expeditiously, after wanting me all your life? Madeline assured me it was so—that you still cared for me.”
The mention of Madeline in this conversation unnerved him but, for the moment, he concealed it. “I do still care for you, Diana. I always will, but we are not meant to be husband and wife.”
“But the letters…you kept them.”
He struggled to keep his composure. “I never meant for you to see those.”
“But they were here on your desk, for all the world to see!”<
br />
Adam tried to keep his anger in check. “They were locked in a box.”
Diana realized her gaffe but brushed it off and pointed a long finger. “The key was sitting out, right there.”
He gazed at it on the desk. “A key on a desk is not an open invitation to go through a man’s personal belongings!”
“They were my letters!”
Good God, why were they arguing about this? Adam pinched the bridge of his nose to try and thwart the headache that was beginning to throb. “You may have them back if you wish.”
She glared hotly at him. “Indeed. You’re through with them, are you?”
He said nothing. He merely met her gaze, hoping she would see how truly sorry he was.
She marched angrily over to the desk and picked up the box of letters. “I believe I will take them, thank you. And you, Adam Coates, can burn in hell.”
With that, she walked out of his study. Adam followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, where she threw the box of letters onto the fire. Sparks snapped and crackled and flew into the air, and Diana slapped her hands together as if to brush off the grimy memories.
Alone in the kitchen, they stood face-to-face, staring at each other. Adam didn’t know what to say. If she had wanted to slap him, he would have let her, for she deserved some kind of satisfaction for what he’d put her through.
If he could have changed the way things had occurred to have avoided this altogether, he certainly would have. If only he could have seen into the future. He would have sent for Madeline’s hand in marriage in the first place.
Life, however, was never as easy as that. He had to face the difficult truth that he had caused Diana great pain and inconvenience, and had also displaced her from her home.
“The least you can do is tell me who she is and where you met her,” Diana said.
Adam stiffened. He could not tell Diana that it was her sister he loved, when Madeline herself didn’t even know. “I would rather not.”
“I deserve to know the truth, Adam. I want to know.”
He would not waver. He shook his head at her.
“Have you already proposed to her?”
“No.”
“Does she know about me?”
“Yes.” God, he wanted this to be over.
For a long time she stood there, glaring at him, and when he offered her no further information, she pushed past him toward the stairs. “I’m leaving on the next ship. And I’m taking Madeline with me.”
Before he had a chance to realize what he was doing, he was reaching for Diana’s arm as she passed. With a quick, tight grip, he stopped her. “Madeline stays here.” Diana’s startled expression shook his resolve. “At least until I have a chance to talk to her myself.”
Diana yanked her arm out of his grasp. Her chest rose and fell with deep, furious breaths. Then her face changed; her voice was like an echo. “It’s Madeline, isn’t it?”
He met her challenging glare but said nothing, for what could he say when his world was crumbling all around him?
“You’ve fallen in love with my sister! How could you! How could she! She assured me you still cared for me. She pretended to be my loyal sister, when she was betraying me all along!”
“No, she is innocent in this.”
“Innocent! An innocent girl does not steal her older sister’s…” Diana’s outburst halted on her lips. She appeared to be putting all the pieces together on her own, without his help. “She doesn’t know….”
He swallowed uncomfortably. “No, and you can’t tell her. I need to tell her myself.”
“I’ll tell her whatever I want! And don’t think for one minute that I will sing your praises.”
She gathered her skirts and walked quickly to the stairs. Adam went after her. “If you have a kind bone in your body, Diana, you will leave this to me. I love Madeline and I’m going to ask her to be my wife. Don’t take this chance for happiness away from her.”
Diana continued to scurry up the stairs. “I won’t let her marry you. Not after what you’ve done to me.”
“It is not your decision to make. She is a grown woman.”
Diana stopped on the landing. “She is my obstinate little sister! She has always been jealous of me, and she probably seduced you just to get back at me for being prettier and smarter and for always getting what I want! No one has ever chosen her over me!”
Feeling weak and stunned by Diana’s brutal, egotistic honesty, he stood on the staircase looking up at her, squeezing the railing in his fist. It seemed almost impossible that he could have loved her once.
She whirled around with a swish of silks and petticoats and floated the rest of the way up the stairs. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut.
Adam quickly summoned his thoughts into action. He had to find Madeline before Diana spoke to her. He had to tell Madeline he loved her and explain what had happened with Diana.
He went out to the front porch, but she and Metcalf weren’t there.
Returning inside, he took two steps at a time up the stairs and went from room to room, searching, but the house was quiet and still, all except for Diana’s maid, Hilary, who was stitching a hem in the hall by the window. “Have you seen Miss Oxley?” he asked her.
She shook her head.
Penelope had gone to Mary and Jacob’s house to help them prepare to move in, and the boys were out in the fields. Where was Madeline? He listened at Diana’s door but heard nothing and knew Madeline was not in there with her. If she had been, there would be screaming and tears.
He ran down the stairs and out the front door. A violent gale was still blowing, and the sky was churning with dark thunderclouds. He ran to the barn, checked the chicken coop and the vegetable garden, but couldn’t find Madeline anywhere.
John Metcalf had been with her last. Had she left with him? Gone riding across the marsh?
One more short search of the yard and the house yielded no results, so he quickly saddled his horse. No matter what it took, he was going to find Madeline. And God willing, he was going to make her his own.
Chapter Fifteen
Adam galloped along the ridge top, stopping to overlook the marsh below, while a brawny, brisk wind blasted him in the face. A storm was brewing, there was no doubt about that, and he had to find Madeline. He needed to explain his feelings to her before Diana had a chance to spoil everything. And she would. He knew she would. Madeline was deeply loyal to her sister. If she heard Diana’s story first, Madeline would never believe Adam’s love was pure. She would never betray her heartbroken sister.
He kicked himself then, remembering the day he had brought Madeline with him to meet Lord Blackthorne’s ship. With high hopes and grand intentions, he had carried the letter to Diana in his pocket, yet he had not disclosed a word of his plan to Madeline. He’d foolishly believed he had all the time in the world to woo her. He had stalled, waiting for the right time, and now he might have missed his opportunity altogether. The window had slammed shut on his fingers.
When he didn’t see Madeline or John down on the marsh, he wondered if John had taken her to see his new homestead. Deciding it was a likely place to find her, he turned his mount and kicked in his heels, feeling the first cold drops of rain pelt his cheeks.
A short time later, he was thoroughly drenched and trotting into John’s yard. John’s horse was tethered inside the open barn, his saddle gone from his back. A light burned in the kitchen window.
Feeling a surge of protectiveness over Madeline, Adam dismounted and strode to the door. How would he handle this, if Madeline was inside? The impropriety of it was one thing; John would have to be dealt with. But what about Adam’s more important objective—to pour out his heart to Madeline? He certainly couldn’t do it here, and what if he was too late? What if Madeline had fallen in love with John?
Steeling himself against any of those possibilities, Adam knocked on the door. It opened before him, and John stood there in stockinged feet, his waistcoat
off, his shirt open at the neck.
Adam felt his gut twist with dread. Please, Madeline, be anywhere but here.
Clenching his jaw, he tried to keep his voice low and controlled. “Hello, John. I’m looking for Madeline.”
John held a half-eaten chunk of rye bread in his hand. He stopped chewing. “I left her at your house over an hour ago.”
An odd mixture of relief and frustration welled up inside Adam. He heaved with a shaky breath. “Did she mention anything about going anywhere? For a walk perhaps?”
John shook his head. “No. Why, is she missing?”
Adam recognized the concern in John’s voice, saw the flash of panic in his eyes, and knew John’s feelings for Madeline—like Adam’s own—were genuine. Although there were times he would have liked to put John on a leaky boat back to Yorkshire, he couldn’t fault the young man for his affections. He was young and unattached, hoping to begin a new life, and Madeline was indeed a treasure.
Adam descended the steps. “Don’t worry, I’ll find her.”
Not five seconds later, John was shrugging into his coat. “I’ll come with you.”
“There’s no need.”
To his credit, the young man persisted. “You need help, Mr. Coates. This storm’s getting worse, and if Madeline’s not at home, she might be stranded somewhere.”
Adam mounted his horse. “All right. I’ll meet you back at my house. We’ll see if she’s returned there. If not, we’ll search the hay barns on the marsh. She might have taken shelter in one of them.”
With a grateful nod to John, Adam steered his horse directly into the wind and galloped across the rain-soaked field.
Feeling the chill of the first few raindrops strike her skin, Madeline picked up her skirts and hurried into the yard. She entered the house just as the storm unleashed its fury and the skies opened up with a violent downpour.
Thankful to have outrun it, she removed her shawl and shook away the wetness. The house was quiet and she felt guilty for having been gone so long, but she had needed some time to herself.
Adam's Promise Page 14
