Before she could recover from the shock to utter a sound, Adron tapped on the door and the coach rolled away. Her dream of a romantic declaration of eternal love had crashed to the ground and even worse, he brought the whole thing down to a practical level by bringing Jamie into the actual proposal.
“Adron. You blackguard,” she cried, leaning out the window.
He saluted and turned back to the house.
As the coach rumbled down the drive toward the lane, Laurel wanted to scream at him. Fury brought a red haze before her eyes. She wanted to drum her heels against the floor and yell her frustration until not a thread of anger remained. Not only had she received a proposal of marriage in the most absurd way possible, but he left it to the last minute as well, not giving her a chance to reply. The most romantic thing he’d said had been he wanted her. How revolting, and to drag Jamie into it had been preposterous as well as humiliating. He deserved a resounding no for that alone. Flooded with disappointment she couldn’t halt the tears that fell.
Allowing him into her bed with visions of happy ever after fogging her fevered brain had been a jest at her expense. She hadn’t allowed, she had merely succumbed and that had been another jest. No doubt she would surrender again. Her heart told her to take a chance, to escape from the past and to grasp the future in both hands, but caution still whispered careful.
Laurel vowed no more second best. Her place in her husband’s life must be elevated above his concerns for another woman, kin or not and until that moment, she would not commit herself to marriage. She must make certain she and Jamie would come first with Adron. Lifting her chin, she folded her arms over her chest and tried to concentrate on the passing scenery with his proposal still ringing in her ears.
Some hours later she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and climbed out of the coach. “Home at last.”
Startled at her own words, she slowed her rush to the nursery. When had she begun to think of Kendlewood as home? The thought had come unbidden, a warning that she must guard against such assumptions. Laurel hadn’t accepted Adron’s proposal. Not yet. Assuring herself the only reason she’d been delighted to be back at Kendlewood was Jamie, nothing more. Laurel entered the nursery and gathered her son in her arms, showering his cheek with kisses. She played with him for the rest of the day. Settling back into a routine with Jamie satisfied her to a certain extent, but something was still missing. The reason for her discontent eluded her as the next hours rolled past.
Mid-morning the next day, Laurel entered the blue parlor with Robert’s letters under her arm determined to read each page again at long last. Even in this delightful room with the soft blue wall color, the deep blue damask clad settee plus the matching chairs, a sense of restlessness gripped her.
What was keeping Adron? He should be home. She missed him, the sound of his voice and the way he moved. Laurel missed watching him laugh at some antic of Jamie’s.
Adron stepped into the room and for a moment, she thought her longing for him had conjured him up. Her pulse leaped and beat a tattoo in her throat. “Adron, welcome home.”
In two strides he was within arm’s length of her and drew her to his chest. His kiss was hot, demanding and totally possessive. When he released her, she fought to catch her breath.
“Adron, you shouldn’t treat me in this fashion and certainly not where anyone may take note.”
“You didn’t say no, Laurel.” His eyes immediately filled with amused understanding. “You couldn’t. You want me as much as I want you.”
She elevated her chin, stared into his eyes for a moment and changed the subject. “What did you discover?”
“I’ve discovered you’re a cruel woman,” he teased. “You like to keep a man dancing on the end of your string.” In a sober tone he added, “I’ve always known that.”
“Adron,” she chided. Cupping the side of her neck with her fingers, she cocked her head to the side and gazed at him. “Waiting for you to return to Kendlewood has been hard and anticipating the thief’s next move is excruciating.” She sighed. “I’m convinced Oather Dimty is the thief and possibly the murderer. I should be at Landings to identify him the moment he arrives. Then we’d know.”
He frowned. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“I didn’t mean alone. If you’re with me, I’d be perfectly safe and Essie is there to lend propriety.”
“I made mention of the fact I was on my way to London, did I not? Horace should have a line on Oather by now.” He stepped back. “That’s the main reason I’m here. I knew your curiosity would get the better of you and I intend to quell your impulsive nature before you hurl yourself into danger again. You will not return to Landings. Understood?”
She gave him a hostile glare and finally nodded. “Well, what did you discover?”
“Nothing important. The jewelry is now safe and the trap is set. With the activity that’s been going forward we expect the thief will check on his ill-gotten gains and when he does, we’ll have him. I’m almost positive the murder and the robbery are connected.”
“But you said Oather wasn’t at Landings.”
“That’s what we were told, but what if we were led astray? If Oather stole the jewelry, he had an accomplice. Robert must have discovered the jewelry had been slowly disappearing and suspected someone, possibly Oather.” He shrugged. “Why else kill Robert? Naturally the culprit would want to silence him and there is nothing as silent as death.”
She shook her head. “He hasn’t been completely silent. He managed to give warning in his journal that something had been amiss.”
“He did indeed and I gave warning of my intentions when you left Landings. Have you given any thought to the question I asked?”
“Is the danger over? That’s your main concern after all,” Laurel sputtered.
“Laurel, that’s ridiculous. Your safety is my concern.”
“And you think your trap is foolproof, don’t you? Well, I’m not so positive.” Indignant, she continued, “Besides, you threw your proposal in my face and sent the coach away almost in the same breath.”
“You have me there.” He shot a thoroughly masculine grin at her before he grew serious. “I expect the thief to be laid by the heels shortly, so the danger should be over soon. Don’t let your pride stand in the way of what we could have.”
The butler tapped at the door. “Milord, Sir George Dunaway is here. I’ve taken the liberty of placing him in your library.”
“Very well.” Adron gazed down at Laurel then pivoted on one heel and followed the butler.
Laurel stared after him, disturbed that he could control her with a touch, cloud her mind and bring her to the brink of surrender with little effort. She deeply resented the fact that he could walk away seemingly unscathed. “Drat the man.”
Laurel shook free of the emotions he aroused as caution continued to whisper through her mind. He was fiercely loyal, a trait she greatly admired, but would she feel the same if he automatically considered Rhonda before thinking of her. Was she on the brink of making the biggest mistake of her life?
Chapter 20
Adron lengthened his stride, reluctant to leave Laurel with the situation between them unresolved, but anxious to hear George’s report. Entering, he shut the library door behind him. “Welcome, George. Dare I hope you’ve found the jeweler?”
“Indeed. At least a good possibility.”
“Sit, man, sit.” Adron plucked a bottle from the side cabinet. “Name your poison.”
“Brandy will do.” George took the glass and sank into a chair. “You’d think I was out to cast aspersions on the good name of the firms I visited.” Insulted, he elevated his chin and sniffed. “That or rob the place. I’ve never been so insulted in my life but finally at the last jeweler’s establishment, a bloke sitting at his workstation followed me outside. He said he th
ought he recognized the workmanship and gave me the name of the jeweler along with his direction. I thought you would want to question the chap yourself.”
“Capital. I do want to interrogate the fellow personally, but it’ll wait until the morrow. Stay to dinner at least.” Adron cleared his throat. “And George, I want to thank you for the effort you’ve made on my behalf.”
“Glad to oblige,” George said. “Has something happened that I’m not aware of? You look a little grim.”
Adron rubbed his hand down one side of his face and raised a brow. “Things pile up when least expected but nothing untoward has happened.” He tossed off the last swallow in his glass and rose to his feet. “After your long trip, I’m sure you’re anxious to rid yourself of all your dirt.”
George stood, too. “Just so.” He grinned. “Since you are tired of my company so soon, I think I’ll be off to my house after dinner.”
“Not so. It’s just that I have things on my mind.”
“So do I, my friend. So do I.” George grinned. “The village tavern.”
Adron shook his head. “I thought you came directly from London and your mistress.”
“I was in a hurry, anxious to let you know what I discovered,” George said in a defensive tone. “Besides, Isabella calls for more attention than I was willing to give on this trip.”
Adron grinned. “Rushing your fences is bad form and a gentleman should never hurry these things. I don’t.”
“I dare say,” George chuckled in reply. “But when we were boys, you weren’t so set up in your own conceit as you are now.”
“As you say,” Adron shrugged and exited the library knowing George’s stare followed him. Stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket for later scrutiny, he dismissed George from his mind. Adron couldn’t concentrate on locating the jeweler when he wanted nothing more than to pursue his conversation with Laurel. Pulling his pocket watch from his vest, he checked the time and groaned. He couldn’t scramble into his clothes, meet with the family before dinner let alone squeeze in a visit with Laurel but later in the evening he would continue where he’d left off.
Adron’s high stickler of a valet had his clothes laid out for him. He needed his valet’s assistance to don his snug jacket and trousers. His servant tided his shoes as well before he whisked out the door. Adron’s long strides ate up the distance to the drawing room. Perhaps he wouldn’t be tardy after all. He nearly cursed aloud as Rhonda approached him. Laurel was his main concern at the moment, however he noticed tears glistening on Rhonda’s cheeks and halted to wait for her.
Adron couldn’t help remembering times when her governess had treated her harshly back in his younger days and helpless to intervene. Now he could offer succor and he gathered her in his embrace. “Rhonda, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
Rhonda gave a watery laugh. “You and Robert could never abide my tears.” Her sobs broke out again. “But, Adron, how could Robert abandon me? He needn’t have taken everything from me. My home, absolutely everything,” she wailed.
“He was a man of honor. Although his son inherits the entailed property, naturally he wanted his family to inherit his personal wealth as well.”
“But what about me? I’m family.”
“He knew Uncle Herbert provided for you, Rhonda.”
“You call that providing, tying up my wealth so I only receive a ridiculous allowance. It’s barely enough to purchase a few rags.”
“Rhonda, that’s absurd. You have a generous allowance and the ability to draw more if necessary.”
She flung out of his arms. “After I give a sob story to some fusty old fidget.”
“So that’s how you really consider me.”
Rhonda flew back to his side. “Adron, you know that’s not what I meant. I was merely bemoaning the fact that Robert abandoned me.” She twisted her arms around his neck. “Please never desert me, Adron.”
He placed his arms around her waist holding her steady and hesitated for a long moment, torn by her request. Adron wondered if he could maintain his promises when his loyalties were divided. Would Laurel understand? With good reason, she didn’t much care for Rhonda. “Haven’t I always looked after you? You and Robert both when I could.” After another long pause, he promised, “I will never forsake you, Rhonda.”
Laurel inspected her appearance in the cheval mirror over the dressing table pleased with the way her hair caressed her shoulders and how well her gown displayed her décolletage. The blue shade complimented her complexion and added a shine to her hair as well.
“You look ever so lovely, Milady.” The maid sighed and straightened the sleeve of the gown.
“A lady’s appearance is certainly important.” She twisted about. “And I am best pleased with this gown.” No appearing as a dowd would suffice this night. Laurel wanted to be in looks else Melissa and Rhonda would cast her in the shade. Besides which she must consider Adron’s proposal. She refused to be rushed into a decision that could prove disastrous for her or Jamie. Laurel had yet to see any evidence he’d set the record straight with Melissa.
Laurel had her doubts about the wisdom of marrying Adron but oh how she longed to give up and give in to his demands. Sick with being torn between desire for him one minute and doubting him the next, she resolved to settle the issue in her own mind tonight.
“Coward,” she whispered, while sighing with relief because her decision had been pushed off until later. Taking a deep breath, she placed a bracelet on her arm and gave her skirt a tug. The dinner hour had arrived.
Laurel quietly shut her door and hesitated on the landing as sobs floated up the stairwell. Glancing down into the hall outside the drawing room, the picture that captured her attention drew her up short. She never expected to witness Adron supporting Rhonda’s sobbing figure in his arms.
Laurel’s heart sank at his promise to never forsake Rhonda. Fighting a rival for his affections was one thing but competing with his relative for his favors would soon become intolerable. Hesitant to confront Adron with Rhonda in his embrace, Laurel struck the baluster with a loud thump to announce her presence and slowly descended the stairs.
Fortunately, at that moment the butler announced dinner and Laurel could avoid facing Adron or Rhonda in the drawing room. Laurel refrained from glancing down the table at Adron, but she was seated next to Rhonda and she wanted nothing more than to slap the dejected demeanor from her sister-in-law’s face. George occupied the chair to Laurel’s left with Melissa on his other side, perhaps a good thing. His manners were always impeccable, helping her to render her expression impassive as etiquette dictated.
George’s cheerful voice carried down the table. “My dear Rhonda, now that you’re no longer burdened with the management of the estate you should take a bolt to town. Do the London season.”
Rhonda shoved her chair back and ran from the room.
Adron threw his napkin on the table, glared at George and started after Rhonda. “You dolt. Why do you think she’s upset?”
Laurel watched as Adron once again chased after Rhonda causing her to want to gnash her teeth in frustration. Laurel’s resolve against marriage to Adron had just strengthened.
Adron entered the dining room again and took his seat. “Rhonda has the headache and wishes to remain in her room.”
He bristled at Laurel’s cool glance, her closed expression and the way she hunched one shoulder to show her displeasure before turning to smile at George. If Laurel had intentionally tried to raise his ire or not, she’d succeeded beyond her wildest hope. Anger mixed with a good dose of jealousy hit Adron and he resolved to put a stop to her antics. Adron refused to allow George to cut him out with Laurel.
By her own surrender, she belonged to him, but the more he tried to claim her as his own, the more she ignored him. He’d always found Laurel’s efforts to rile him amusin
g, but not this time. Finally he decided to foil her at her own game. He would set George’s thought in another direction.
A smirk nearly got the best of Adron, but he managed to contain himself although his lips did quiver. “George, did you find your ride from London pleasant the weather being what it is?”
“A hard, fast ride is always grueling, but the rain held off so it wasn’t too wearisome.”
Adron allowed a few moments to past. “The weather is pleasant tonight. In fact there’s a full moon. Almost as bright as day don’t you think?”
“Just so,” George answered, red about the ears.
Adron waited until Heloise and the ladies trailed out the door and motioned for the footman to set a bottle of port and two glasses by his elbow. “That will be all, Fredrick.”
He raised one brow, suspended the bottle over a glass and looked at George. “Port, old chap.”
George laughed. “No, you rogue. I’m off to the tavern. I’ll make my way home from there.”
Adron held back a chuckle. “Of course, my good fellow. I understand. When you’re foxed, you need your valet to help you to bed.”
“Exactly so.” George sailed out of the room seemingly intent upon his mission and Adron headed to his library to mull over what he should do next. Why was Laurel so headstrong and set against him when he knew she cared for him, even that she loved him, so why?
Later that night, Adron rapped on Laurel’s door. “Laurel, I must speak to you.”
She opened her door wide. “By all means, do come in,” she snapped. “Let’s not be concerned with my reputation if a servant happens to wander past.”
Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman Page 23
