She took a breath to say it, but Diana interrupted her again. “Oh, Madeline, you must help Adam get over me. Will you take care of him? Will you stay here and try to mend his broken heart? I know he enjoys your company and you share an interest in gardening. Perhaps you could encourage a union between the two of you? He’s a good man, Madeline, and you deserve to be happy. Do you think…do you think you could ever love him?”
Madeline stared dumbfounded at her sister. The look in her eyes…Madeline had never seen it before. She wasn’t even sure what it was. Pleading? Remorse? Desperation?
“Diana, I—”
Diana reached for her hand and pulled her down to sit beside her again. “Madeline, I am a dreadful sister. I know it. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately—I haven’t been able to do much of anything else—and I do want you to be happy. I want things to be right.”
Right? Could it be that Diana remembered that Adam had broken off their engagement? Or did she just suspect that there were feelings between Madeline and Adam, and this was her way of holding on to her dignity and pride?
Madeline treaded cautiously into her next question. “What makes you think I could love Adam?”
Diana tilted her head and grinned. “Honestly, Madeline, you’re my sister. You’ve always loved him, ever since you were a child following Adam and I around everywhere.”
Feeling an odd mixture of embarrassment for having her secret known, and tenderness for her sister in the wake of what seemed like a backward attempt to make up for her behavior lately, Madeline took in a deep, cleansing breath. She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I am in love with him.”
Diana slowly absorbed her confession. She laid a gentle hand on Madeline’s cheek. “Yet, when you thought I loved him, you kept it to yourself. How you must have suffered. Your loyalty and your sacrifice makes me feel so ashamed.”
Madeline gazed into her sister’s beautiful blue eyes, glistening with sentimental tears, something Madeline had never seen in Diana before. Ashamed?
Diana stroked a lock of hair back off Madeline’s forehead. The gesture was familiar, for Diana had always done that when Madeline was a child, snuggling into bed at night.
“I’m sorry for the way things have turned out between us,” Diana said. “I have been positively wretched to you. When I found out what Father had done, I came on the first ship out of Scarborough because I…I didn’t want you to have what I considered mine. Just as I didn’t want you to wear my ribbons, even though I wasn’t wearing them anymore. And I had unrealistic fantasies about Adam. I wanted to be young and innocent again. I wanted to go back to those days when he came calling and all I knew was that he adored me. But he was never right for me. He talked about farming all the time, and as you know, I didn’t have the slightest interest in anything to do with dirt. But you…my little sister, the gardener.”
Warm, tender emotions rose up in Madeline like a swift tide; her eyes filled with tears. Diana pulled her close and hugged her.
“Adam was never meant to be mine, Madeline. He was meant for you. You’re the one he loves. He told me so.”
Madeline squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. “You remember.”
“Yes. I might as well admit it now. I remembered everything the second day after the accident. And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. I wanted to punish you and push you away so that I could take back what I considered mine. But then you came the other day to apologize to me! I was angry at first because you made me feel like such a cruel monster—which I am!—but then I realized how horribly I had always treated you, and I am desperate to make up for it, Madeline. I want to be a better person. I want to be more like you. Can you ever forgive me? Can we be close, as you wanted us to be?”
Madeline threw her arms around Diana. “Of course we can. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I was just afraid to open up to you.”
“But you did, and I am so glad. At least one of us had the courage.”
Madeline knew she had Adam to thank for that.
“But are you sure you want to go with Lord Blackthorne?” Madeline asked. “He’s not just an escape for you, is he? A way to give Adam to me, because I won’t let you make that kind of sacrifice. There are other ways—”
“I know the viscount is not the most handsome man in the world, Madeline, but it may surprise you to know that looks are not that important to me. He adores me, truly and passionately, and I am in heaven.”
Madeline smiled knowingly. “And he will make you a viscountess.”
“There is that, yes,” Diana replied with a wickedly satisfied glint in her eye. “And when he completes his term here, we will return to his estate in England, and I will live out my days there, moving about society with him, for he is a very popular man.”
It was the perfect life for Diana, that was certain.
Madeline hugged her sister again. “You have made me very happy.” She sat back and gazed at the fire in the hearth. “But all is not yet perfect. I have been unfeeling and distant toward Adam. I can only hope that he will be able to forgive me for shutting him out, and believe that I am capable of love.”
“I know that you are, Madeline. You have proven it to me beyond a shadow of a doubt. And if you believe it yourself,” Diana said gently, “he will believe it, too.”
Madeline paced back and forth along the oval rug in her candlelit room, wearing only her white nightdress, nothing else. Diana had giddily informed her that she would be leaving the following day with Lord Blackthorne, and they would be married in Halifax as soon as possible. She planned to speak to Adam after breakfast to officially end their betrothal, and to apologize for leaving so soon, with so little notice.
Should Madeline simply stand back and wait for the events to unfold? she wondered, as she continued to pace. Diana would drive away tomorrow, and Madeline would be left behind, standing beside Adam in the yard, waving goodbye. Everything, if she was lucky, would simply fall into place after that.
Or should she go to Adam now and be the one to tell him what was transpiring? Diana had wanted Madeline to seize the opportunity to take him for her own.
But how was she to tell him?
Should she begin by informing him that he was free, that Diana did not wish to marry him after all, and see where it went from there?
Or should Madeline begin by telling Adam that she had gone to Diana first to tell her the truth—that she had intended to betray her sister and choose a life with him—whether Diana liked it or not?
Would he even believe that?
A part of her was tempted to go with the first option and act only as messenger. She could deliver Diana’s news and leave the rest to Adam. Perhaps he would be relieved to know that he would not have to go through the ordeal of breaking with Diana again, and he would take Madeline into his arms and propose.
If only it could be that easy. She would not have to risk pouring out her heart. All she would have to do was say yes.
Oh, but what a cowardly thing—to sit back and simply watch the tide turn.
Madeline blew out her candles and climbed onto the bed. There was a chill in the air, she noticed, wrapping her arms around herself. Her feet were as cold as a couple of frosty turnips. She hopped out of bed again and pulled on a pair of stockings, then made her way back to the bed and snuggled down, thinking.
The clock ticked. Madeline stared at the ceiling.
Something made her sit up. With a strange quivering feeling, she swept her feet off the bed to the floor again.
Hadn’t Adam taught her that love was as much about what you said and did as what you felt inside? She loved him, didn’t she? And the key he had given her had worked. Diana had proven that to her tonight.
Would it work if Madeline used it on Adam?
With trembling fingers, she lit her candelabra and carried it to her door. She paused there to take a breath. She had to do this. If she didn’t, Adam would never know how much he meant to her. He would never know how much she truly love
d him.
Madeline reached for the door latch, let herself out into the hall and walked apprehensively toward his door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was the fullest, roundest, brightest moon Adam could recall seeing in a dog’s age. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood on the ridge, overlooking the marsh where moonbeams gleamed on the glossy dales below and stars glimmered brilliantly in the night sky overhead. There was a chill in the air—a sign of late summer—yet not a hint of wind off the bay. He closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh scents of chamomile and spruce, and thought of Madeline.
What was it that made him think he could fall in love with women he knew nothing about? Was he somehow daft in the head? At the very least, he was a severely poor judge of character. All his life he had thought he’d loved Diana, only to discover she was not at all the woman he remembered. Why hadn’t he seen her true nature all those years ago? Had he been that blinded by her beauty? He supposed he had.
Jane had seemed like a rational woman when he’d met her, and he’d not had any serious doubts about marrying her when it became a necessity. Perhaps again, he had blinded himself to her deeper person, for what could he do but close his eyes and hold his breath and leap, hoping that it would all turn out right.
It hadn’t. She’d been a difficult woman to live with, but he had survived.
Now Madeline. What had happened there? Everything had been fine, things were progressing as they should. They were becoming friends and he’d fallen in love with her gradually and sensibly, he’d thought. The friction only began after he had confessed his feelings to her. She had retreated from him, like a spooked rabbit in the forest.
Now he was wondering what John Metcalf had said to her. Surely he had proposed.
Adam truly had no idea what Madeline was going to do.
He really did not know her.
He watched the moon shadows drift eerily over the land as a few lone clouds passed across the dark sky. It was too late to be out here in the dark, analyzing his mistakes. He buried his hands in his pockets and headed back to the house.
An owl hooted somewhere nearby. He stopped at the end of the tree-lined driveway to look up at the tall pines and spot the owl, but heard the sound of his front door open and close.
His attention darted to the house and then to Madeline on the stoop, wearing only her white nightdress and a shawl, holding flickering candles over her head.
Was she looking for him? he wondered, feeling startled and shaken by her unexpected appearance. He’d thought everyone was asleep.
Observing a slight change in his body—a tightness, a squeezing apprehension—he approached and climbed the steps. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes. I mean, no, nothing’s wrong. I…I want to speak with you.”
Her hair was down. How curly it was. He hadn’t known it would be so full around her face, so soft looking. God, she was lovely in the candlelight, so natural and unaffected. He could feel the overwhelming shock of her beauty in his bones.
He forced himself to look down, to try and block his body’s response, but found himself staring at her stockinged feet, her toes peeking out from under the hem of her nightdress. With an irritating surge of arousal, he pulled his gaze back up to her face. “Let’s go inside, then.”
Not knowing what to expect—perhaps she wanted to announce her engagement to John Metcalf—he held the door open for her. He would not be surprised if she wanted to marry the man. Nothing would surprise him now.
She led the way into his study rather than the parlor, then she boldly closed the door behind them.
Adam stood motionless in the center of the room, trying to subdue the dread that was spreading through him like a climbing vine. Following closely behind that dread was an unhealthy dose of dangerously frustrated lust.
For heaven’s sake! He should not be in this room alone with her with the door closed, facing the prospect of losing her to another man, while the entire household slept upstairs. It was too much to ask of himself. He did not think he could resist the hunger to devour her and demand that she finally open herself to him, give herself to him, body and soul. She was meant for him, and no other!
Madeline walked to the desk and lit a few more candles from the flame of the one she held. The room brightened.
“First,” she said, “I’m going to tell you what I had intended to do tonight. What I tried to do.”
Adam strode to the window, working hard to speak with aplomb. “I’m listening.”
Her voice was shaky, as if she were holding too much air in her lungs and could not let it out. “Tonight when I asked you and Lord Blackthorne to excuse Diana and I, I was acting on an impulse that came over me very suddenly. I wanted…or rather I needed to talk to Diana about everything that had happened.”
He held up a hand. “Wait, you didn’t want to talk to her about John Metcalf?”
Madeline shook her head. “No, this has nothing to do with John.”
He contemplated that for a moment. “He didn’t propose?”
“Yes, he did,” she said uncertainly, “but I turned him down. Did you think…?”
“It doesn’t matter what I thought.” He swallowed uncomfortably. His legs seemed to be made of butter. “I thought nothing.”
Madeline wandered to the bookcase and ran a finger over the spines. He wished she would just spit it out, for his patience was all gone.
She faced him. “I tried to tell her what she had forgotten the day of the flood—that you had broken off your engagement.”
Had he heard her correctly? Adam stepped away from the dark window. “You tried. You did not succeed?”
“I did, eventually. You may relax now, Adam. Diana will not be holding you to your proposal. She plans to leave tomorrow.”
The muscles in his back and shoulders relaxed in one great sweep of comprehension. The secrets were out.
“How? What did you say? Was she shocked? Angry?”
Madeline tilted her head, as if she were considering how to describe it. “Neither shocked nor angry. When I tried to tell her, she informed me that she already knew. She said she remembered everything the day after the accident but kept it to herself, because she…she didn’t want me to have you.”
Adam fought to check his anger. “She knew, and she didn’t want you to have me? What I really want to say to you now is that I told you so, but I will not because I know how ridiculously loyal you are to her, and that nothing I say will make you choose happiness for yourself over hers.”
Madeline walked to him. She took his hands in hers, pressed them to her soft cheek.
Caught off guard and instantly flustered, he looked into her eyes for the first time, searching them. What was this?
“Please, let me finish,” she said. “I must say everything I came to say before I lose my mettle. When you convinced me the other day to talk to Diana, I did, but I failed. At least I thought I did. She turned me away and made me more certain than ever that I was doing the right thing to keep my heart closed off to the world. But Adam, somehow I managed to open her heart with all the things I said, and afterward, she began to regret what had become of our relationship. You were right. I did need to open my heart, and I want to open it now. Again. To you. Diana is leaving, and I want to stay.”
She kissed his hands and pressed them to her cheek again, and he tried to focus on what she was telling him rather than the feel of her moist, hot lips on his skin and the fires kindling in his veins.
Yet, even through it all, he still had questions. “You said she is leaving tomorrow. Why so quickly?”
“Diana is going to leave with Lord Blackthorne. She is going to marry him.”
The fires within began to cool slightly. “She is leaving to marry Lord Blackthorne? When did this transpire?”
“Over the past few days, and I suppose it began when they met on the ship.”
He shook his head. “This seems all too familiar.”
He pulled his hands from
hers and crossed to the other side of the room where the candlelight did not reach. He stood in the darkness, his pulse pounding in his ears. “She handed me over to you, did she? On a silver platter with her happy blessing?”
Madeline’s voice was quiet. “Yes, but—”
“But what? How can I be sure that if Diana had not met Lord Blackthorne, you would not be packing your bags right now to return with her to Yorkshire? I do not wish to be your second choice, Madeline.”
She took a step toward him. “How can you speak of second choices, when I was not even as good as that when I came here? For weeks I had to live with the heartbreak of discovering that you did not want me, when I wanted you more than anything. I was rejected in the worst way, and now you fault me for being afraid! You broke my heart, Adam. Everyone in my life had broken my heart, and if you could only know how much courage I had to scrape together to come here and talk to you tonight.”
“But you have stumbled backward into the necessity of acting upon your feelings. How can I be sure you even know what you want?”
“Stumbled backward?” She crossed to him and dropped to her knees again, wrapping her arms around him and resting her cheek on his hip. Adam sucked in a breath. She was squeezing him so tightly he doubted he could pry her off if he tried. Then he heard her sob and the sound of it brought his own heart into his throat.
“I am not stumbling backward now. I will not let go of you! Not until you believe that I love you, and that I would have thrown Diana out of here myself if she had tried to keep me from you one more day.”
He stood in shocked silence, his hands floating in the air over her head.
“I am on my knees, Adam, weeping for you. I don’t know how else to show you that I do have a heart. You were right about me from the beginning. You knew everything. You saw inside to the real me, where no one had ever bothered to look before. I don’t care what brought us to this moment—all the mix-ups and the backward stumbling and tripping and falling. All I care about is you, and what I know is true. My heart—my frightened, reluctant heart—beats only for you.”
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