“And how old were you when you began traveling with him?”
“Six. The day of my mother’s funeral, Papa packed up our belongings and told me we were going on an adventure.” Her father, the man who had swooped off to faraway places more often than he’d stayed home, wouldn’t leave her behind.
Aria pulled the edges of the coat tighter to ward against the chill that danced over her arms. “I was mad at him. He’d sold our home and had no intentions of returning.”
“You were grieving. It would be hard enough to lose your mother at such a young age and then to have your life uprooted.”
“John is dying.”
“Your father’s business partner.”
She nodded. “He thinks my father is—” She sat on the bench. “They’re wrong.”
Silence filled the space again. After a few minutes, he asked quietly, “What if they aren’t?”
“They have to be.” The ache spread outward from her heart, slid between the knots holding Aria’s armor. She pulled her lips inward, bit down on them. She felt raw. Exposed.
His hands were gentle on her shoulders as he turned her to face him. “What if they aren’t?”
She shook her head. “I can’t live without him, Lord Me—”
“Adam.”
“Adam.” The simple gesture of intimacy caught the edges of her resolve and peeled it away. Still, she could not force the tears, no matter how her throat, her body begged for their release. The warmth of his arms surrounded her. “I don’t know how to live without him. I would be alone.”
His lips pressed against her hair, offering a warm kiss. “You aren’t alone anymore.”
“Wherever we were, it was the best place to be,” Aria whispered against his chest. “There was no turning back, no past, no future. Everything was immediate with Papa. Life in the moment.”
Adam rested his hand lightly on her hair. “That’s an adventurous way to live, especially for a child.”
She pulled slowly from his arms. “It was incredible. Everything looked different, more exotic. The smells were spicier. Simple sounds were musical. Colors were vibrant. It was freedom. And now, I’m confined to a world that disdains everything I am, everything I know.”
“You’ve never known a home.”
“My father was my home.”
He paused, looking up as if trying to find the words. “I am not an exciting man, Aria. My life is not much of an adventure.” He gave a short laugh. “Until recently, anyway.”
“You live the society life in London. Some would consider that an adventure.”
“Until this season, we rarely ventured to London. My family was raised in the country.” He lifted his hands, palms up and she could see the long-healed wounds of a working man. “I am a country man. I work. I spend time with my tenants. I can’t give you the glamour and adventure you are used to, I’m afraid.” He looked over the water. “But I can give you a home.”
That simple word reached inside her and tugged. Hard.
Home.
For her entire life, that had hinged on her father’s presence. Now, this man offered her the thing she’d told herself she didn’t need or want. Her heart ached to accept it—but if she did, it felt like she was giving up on the man who had been everything to her.
“We will spend the season in London, as long as my sisters participate. The rest of the time, we reside at Merewood.”
“You mean as long as they are searching for a husband.”
“I want them to have as long as they need to choose the man who will make them happy. What happened to Blythe could have been prevented had I done my due diligence. If we had taken the proper time getting to know him.” He grimaced. “I have to believe I would have seen Thomas Ashton for what he was.”
“And do you see me for what I am?” She’d intended it to be light, teasing, but the words were laced with a vulnerability that made her uncomfortable.
Adam’s gaze focused on hers, and in their ocean-like color, she found sincerity. “I see a woman who loves with her entire heart, who is as loyal as a lioness and will fight to defend her family with the same fierceness.” He chuckled. “I see a charming lack of restraint, a tenacity that might drive me mad but deserves respect...Shall I go on?”
“Is that your polite way of telling me I ought to pay better regard to my actions?” she asked wryly.
“All the reasons you will likely send me to an early grave are the things that make you fascinating. So I am almost afraid to ask what you intend to do with your information when you get it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been searching for someone who knows what happened to your father. Assuming we can uncover the person who has that answer, what’s the next step?” He didn’t wait for an answer, as though he already understood that Aria didn’t have one to give, but continued on, “Let’s review the possible scenarios here.”
“Must we?”
“First option,” he said, ignoring her. “Someone abducted him. Why? To what end? What would they gain?”
“His knowledge, his wealth. There could be a number of reasons,” she shot back.
“Fine. Then, second option. Someone attacked the encampment for the bounty, injured him, left him for dead. Or let’s say you are right and someone did take him. Do you expect them to sit nicely and confess their sins upon your confrontation?”
“Why are you doing this?” She reached down for a handful of rocks, stifled the urge to toss them at him instead of the water.
“I think you’ve been reacting since you discovered what happened. You’re smart, Aria. Too bloody smart for anyone’s good, I imagine, but you are not invincible. You have to realize how foolish you’ve been. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know!” The helplessness, fear and devastating panic she had felt those first days came rushing back. “I wasn’t thinking. I had no one to turn to. Emily couldn’t help. John wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t go back to Egypt because I couldn’t leave John. So when I found the list, I jumped. And yes, I realize how utterly stupid it was to move forward without a plan. But I can’t lose another parent, and I refuse to sit by and wait for someone else to provide me answers.”
“I lost my father.” The sadness in Adam’s voice struck a chord of understanding in her. “Not as young as you lost your mother. He died a few years back. I’ve struggled ever since to fill his shoes, to be the man I think he would want me to be.”
“I have failed dismally at becoming the lady my father hoped for. It’s why he left me here, and, well—” she gestured at him, “—marriage by scandal.” She tossed the pebbles onto the ground, wiped her hands together. “But I imagine your father couldn’t be more proud.”
“I have my doubts. But I have done plenty in the name of protecting my family. I understand. But you’re not alone now. We’ll continue this, and whatever truths are to be found, we’ll deal with them together.”
They had lived in such different worlds, and yet, somehow, they were so alike in some ways. They loved fiercely.
They would both do anything for their families. It was a powerful bridge.
“You didn’t tell me what sent you running through the park.” In an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, he peered around a bush. “Is it scandalous?”
“Hardly. I just needed a bit of fresh air.”
“I’m supposed to assume there is nothing more to it, since you’ve been the height of propriety since we’ve met.”
“I—” She spied the amusement in his eyes. “You’re mocking me.”
“A little.” Laughter crinkled his face. “However, I do have an update. You may remove Barrymore from your list.”
“Very well,” she said, then realized she wasn’t questioning what he’d found.
She trusted him
.
She forced herself to ask, “Why?”
“He was in Ireland until last month.” Adam shook his head. “I do not want to know how you planned to gain your answers from Barrymore. The man is married, for God’s sake. And a duke. And about two hundred years old.”
“So I wouldn’t have flirted. Much.” She lifted a shoulder. “Besides, your future brother-in-law is a duke. And betrothed.”
“I may have to keep you under lock and key,” he said good-naturedly, rubbing at his neck. “Since the dictates of society aren’t your area of expertise, shall we agree that you will discuss any actions to be taken with me prior to taking them?”
She folded her hands in front of her and sat serenely. “Of course.”
And she would discuss any actions with him...as long as he was, well, say, in the room at the given moment she wished to take said action.
“Shall we head back?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I’m going to remain a while. Meditate.”
A look of incredulity crossed his face. “Meditate.”
“You needn’t say it like that. I learned the art of meditation in China.”
He grinned. “Yes, you are often the picture of calm and serenity.”
“I didn’t say I did it often. Or well.” She scrunched her face, and he laughed.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” He turned to go, then stopped. “Perhaps when you’ve mastered calm and serenity, you can show me?”
“Good day, Lord Merewood.”
She turned her back on, hiding her small grin, and sat on the bench. Adam’s chuckles faded as he moved away, and Aria stared at the water. She needed to clear her mind, but Adam’s handsome, smiling face kept appearing.
That wouldn’t do.
Chapter Eleven
“Stop here, please.” Aria reached past Lady Beasley, who sat on the other side of the carriage, and opened the hatch to let the driver know she wished to stop.
Lady Beasley peered out the window. “Mrs. Whitney will never forgive me for allowing this detour in the first place, but for heaven’s sake, we mustn’t stop.” She called up, “Keep going, Harold!”
“No, stop here please,” Aria insisted. She sat back down on her side. “Lady Beasley, I just wish a bit of air.”
“There is plenty of air at the park. Not on St. James Street, dearest.”
“There isn’t air on this street? So when I step down on the street, I shall keel over for lack of breathing?”
“Well, no, of course not, but—”
“Excellent. And it is perfectly acceptable for women to drive this street.”
“Not at this time of day!” Lady Beasley cried. She plunged a hand into her reticule and came up with a tiny flask. “Oh, dear, your mother—”
“Emily is not my mother.” The mere idea set Aria on edge.
The entire morning had set her on edge.
Adam’s visit the previous day had been awkward enough. Aria hadn’t thought to warn Emily of his purpose, so the minute the details had been worked out and Adam had left, it had been over an hour of lecturing, discussions about flowers and other such nonsense, followed by more lecturing.
But that morning while Adam attended to his duties at Parliament, Adam’s mother and sisters had come calling, a visit that delighted Emily to no end. To Aria, it had felt like a stamp of ownership that somehow branded her as “theirs.” Adam’s mother had told her that the notice had been ordered for the Times and offered suggestions of upcoming events to attend. Suddenly Aria’s world was spinning away faster than she could catch her breath. Only a few days ago, she had been a daughter.
Now she was to a wife-to-be. And a future daughter-in-law. Sister-in-law.
Countess.
Everything was changing.
And the fact that her stepmother had been the person Adam and his family met with, not her father, not John, made Aria’s chest ache with sadness. It made her impatient and irritated.
That never boded well for her ability to stop herself from doing stupid things.
The carriage slowed to a halt. As Lady Beasley sputtered, Aria ducked out of the carriage door and carefully stepped down. A chill was in the air, and Aria was glad she’d worn the wool gown.
St. James Street.
Even without Lady Beasley’s dire sighs, she knew she shouldn’t be standing on the street, in front of one of the clubs. Parliament was just out of session. Though the street was quiet now, any moment it would be flocked by gentlemen settling in for a night of gambling, drinking and avoiding their wives.
“Dearest.” Lady Beasley took a delicate sip from her flask and then hung her head out of the carriage, her gaze flitting from side to side like a nervous bird. “I’d like to get to the Row before the lines down the street get terribly long.”
“Just one moment.” Aria would prefer to sit through an hour of Emily’s lectures rather than sit in the ridiculous congestion on Rotten Row for a few hours. But she would go, nonetheless. She couldn’t avoid any opportunity.
She looked up at the club in front of her.
White’s. The infamous bay window sat empty. She’d heard many lamenting complaints about the Brummel’s swift departure a few months previously. She’d also heard about the infamous betting book.
And Lord Merewood was a member.
Why was she here? She had purposely not asked herself that question the entire carriage ride over. It wasn’t as if St. James Street was on the way to Rotten Row. It wasn’t as if the gentlemen on her list would speak to her if she stood in front of their clubs. Aria imagined the clubs as the male version of a harem, with the same tendencies toward pettiness, primping and jockeying for position. They would be horrified by her mere presence in their sacred world.
Would Adam?
Avoidance of St. James Street was one of those edicts that ladies in his world automatically obeyed, didn’t question.
She looked up and down the street, noting a slight increase in carriages. She should leave, if for nothing else but to keep Lady Beasley from having an attack of the vapors.
Adam had been drawn to her from the beginning. He’d said as much. How much of that was curiosity, and how much was based in an understanding that she would likely upend his world?
“Aria, I beg you.” Lady Beasley’s voice had taken on a panicked tone.
“Very well,” she acquiesced. Her lips pressed together and she opened the door to the carriage and stepped her foot up.
“Miss Whitney?”
That deep voice sent a jolt through her. She twisted around and saw him standing a few feet away. His blond hair was slightly askew, and his face wore the tired signs of a long day. How did he still manage to look so handsome? “Lord Merewood.”
“Didn’t we agree to discuss any actions you might take?” he asked drily. “Before you take them?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He glanced up the street, looking less than pleased. “Being here would be one of those actions worth discussing.”
She crossed her arms. “Then it’s a good thing we are heading to Rotten Row. I am certain there isn’t a thing I could do that would cause a stir.”
Adam looked at her warily. “What are you planning?”
She offered an unladylike shrug. “I rarely plan to do anything.”
“All right,” he said with a sigh. With his hand, he gestured toward the carriage. “Get in.”
“I think I prefer to stand.”
“Aria, in about ten minutes, this street will be rich with gentlemen who wish nothing more than a few drinks, a few games and a night at their club. They will not be pleased to see you.”
“Are you?” she challenged.
He studied her in silence; the moment held long enough that Aria shifted he
r weight uncomfortably. She had the distinct feeling that he saw through her.
“Yes,” he replied finally. “I can’t imagine not being pleased to see your beautiful face. But whatever your reason for being here, it will not serve your greater purpose.” His compliment was extravagant, but his tone was laced with a sincere bluntness. “So perhaps we can finish this discussion in your carriage?”
She nodded and as she turned, his hand landed on the small of her back. His body was close enough she could reach out and touch him, and all Aria could think was how comforting his arms had been when he’d held her at the park. How she’d believed in that moment that everything would be well.
She needed to believe that now.
They stepped into the carriage and he called up a direction to the driver, then settled in next to Aria. “Good afternoon, Lady Beasley.”
“Lord Merewood,” she replied. Her hand fluttered about her chest and she turned to look out the window.
The carriage began to move. “So are you going to tell me why you are here?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Where are we going?”
“Let’s not play games. Even you would not tread St. James in the afternoon without good reason.”
“You have an unwarranted amount of faith in me, Lord Merewood.”
“It was a matter of deduction, my dear. You wouldn’t get far with anyone else on this street right now, so I assume you came to discuss something with me.”
“No one comes between a man and his club?” She was stalling. She knew she wanted to see him, but she didn’t have an explanation for why. “Where did you tell the driver to go?”
“Around the block. Now tell me what this is about.”
“Nothing. In fact, we should return you to your hallowed street and continue on to Rotten Row as Lady Beasley wishes.” She glanced at Lady Beasley, who had apparently succumbed to the stress of it all, or more likely what was in the flask, and fallen asleep. Her head lulled forward and bobbed slightly with the turn of the wheels.
“Yes, I can see how impatient she is.” The flask had slipped from her hands and Adam reached down to snatch it just before it bounced on the carriage floor. He undid the cap and took a sniff. He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “That explains why she’s so jolly all the time.”
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