Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  For a gentleman who prided himself on his unshakable composure, he felt very much like putting his hand through a solid wall.

  * * *

  Addy remained standing in the foyer for a long moment after Adam’s abrupt exit.

  If she did not know better she would have thought Adam was angry when he left.

  But that was impossible.

  Adam was never angry.

  He was always cool and detached and in utter command.

  In the few months that they had been wed he had never once lost his temper or even raised his voice.

  She had become convinced over the past weeks that he simply did not possess emotions. Or at the very least he kept them so deeply buried they had no opportunity to slip past his perfect composure.

  A daunting realization for a woman of high spirits and volatile temperament.

  Addy gave a restless shake of her head and she turned to make her way back up the stairs.

  She had known when she wed Adam that he was a distant and aloof gentleman. She had also known that he deeply disapproved of her family. And her own unconventional manners.

  She should have suspected that he would demand she conform to his rigid expectations. And that he would keep her very much in the background as he continued his life uninterrupted.

  If only her father had not extravagantly squandered his fortune, she inwardly sighed. Or worse, borrowed so heavily against the expectation of her wedding to Adam.

  If only . . .

  Addy abruptly squashed the futile longings.

  There were no if onlys. The fact was that she had no choice but to wed Adam. She could only try to make the best she could of the situation.

  Smoothing her hands over the fine fabric of her gray skirt, Addy stepped back into the library. Now was not the time to fret over her marriage.

  “Please have a seat,” she said, smiling as she perched on a firm sofa. She was genuinely delighted that the Vicar had come for a visit. His sweet, kindly nature always managed to lift her spirits.

  Regaining his seat, Mr. Humbly heaved a faint sigh. “I do apologize for descending upon you in such a fashion. I can not think what happened to my letter.”

  “Do not be silly. I am quite delighted you have come for a visit. You can catch me up on the gossip from home.”

  He smiled gently. “First I wish to know how you are doing, my dear.”

  Addy could not prevent herself from growing rigid at his probing question.

  “How could I be anything but happy?” she at last managed in what she hoped was a flippant tone. “I have several beautiful homes, ample staff, and a very generous allowance. Most women would be quite envious of my position.”

  The steady brown gaze never wavered. “You are not most women, Addy, and you have never cared for such nonsense. I have never seen you happier than standing before your easel covered in paint.”

  Ridiculous tears pricked at her eyes and she swiftly lowered her thick lashes to hide her momentary weakness.

  “As the wife of a consultant to the War Department it would not be proper to be covered in paint. I must think of my position.”

  The bushy gray brows rose in surprise. “You do not paint at all?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” He abruptly appeared crestfallen. “How vastly disappointing.”

  Addy was startled by his odd dismay. “Why?”

  “Well, I had hoped . . . no, forgive me. I am an old and silly man.”

  Intrigued, Addy leaned forward. “No, please tell me.”

  The Vicar waved an embarrassed hand. “It is no doubt a ridiculous tradition, but all the Vicars in Brenville have left behind a portrait in the Vicarage. I had hoped for your consent to do mine.”

  Addy was caught off guard by his request. “But I only dabble in painting. I am certainly not trained to do portraits.”

  “Ah, but you have a unique talent given to you by God,” he said firmly. “I would be deeply honored if you would agree.”

  Oddly touched by his obvious faith in her dubious talent Addy blushed in confusion.

  “Oh, I do not know.”

  “Please, Addy.” He regarded her with a coaxing expression. “I could not bear to go to some stranger who might very well feel compelled to add a bit of dignity to this very plain countenance or pose me in a ridiculous manner. I merely desire a simple portrait by someone I trust.”

  Addy began to waver. Until this moment she had not realized just how much she had missed her painting.

  “I suppose I could do a few sketches to see if there is one you desire.”

  “Lovely.” The older man settled back in his seat. “You have deeply relieved my mind.”

  “You have yet to see my work,” she warned.

  “I trust you completely.”

  Her heart warmed at his words. “Thank you.”

  “Now, let me tell you of the neighborhood.” He absently reached for a lemon tart and took a healthy bite. “Squire Blackwell is still courting maidens half his age and refuses to accept the lures of poor Widow Connell who is desperate to wed well. The doctor shocked everyone and eloped with the baker’s daughter. Of course you know that both Beatrice and Victoria have recently wed.”

  Addy thought whimsically of her childhood friends. Odd to think of them now married. Almost as odd as thinking of herself as married.

  “Yes. How are they?”

  The shaggy brows drew together as he pondered her question. “In truth I fear they are both having their difficulties in settling down to wedded life. I believe the first few months of marriage are always somewhat difficult.”

  Her lips twisted in a wry smile. Difficult was a decided understatement.

  “Yes.”

  “ ‘The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit,’ ” the Vicar quoted softly, his gaze oddly understanding. “All will be well, my dear.” With an awkward motion he rose to his feet, surprisingly stuffing the half-eaten tart into the pocket of his coat. “Now, if you will excuse me I believe I shall seek my room and have a bit of rest.”

  Addy readily stood and moved to link her arm with her guest. She smiled as she realized the vast townhouse suddenly did not seem so empty anymore.

  “Certainly. I shall show you the way.”

  Chapter Two

  Adam arrived back at the townhouse in ample time to change into an elegant black evening coat and pantaloons. As always he insisted upon tying his own cravat while his valet watched with pained martyrdom. He refused to be swayed into the latest fashion of high shirt points and cravats so large a gentleman could not turn his head. A simple elegance was far more commanding than silly knots and bows.

  He did allow the servant to brush his dark hair toward his lean countenance and to ensure that not the tiniest speck marred the perfection of his attire. Then, with only a passing glance in the pier mirror, he let himself out of his chambers and headed down to the front salon.

  Entering the room, he took a moment to appreciate the classical lines of the rosewood furnishings and the soothing pale green satin wallcoverings. There were several delightful Wedgwood pieces upon the various tables and a carved marble chimneypiece with a portrait of his parents hanging above it.

  His father had possessed unerring taste in furnishing his homes and Adam had never considered the notion of changing the décor once he had taken possession of the household. In all honesty he spent so little time in the house there had been no overwhelming urge to place his own stamp upon the surroundings.

  Not certain where that odd thought had come from, Adam turned to discover the Vicar standing beside the fire sipping the fine brandy Adam kept readily stocked.

  “Good evening, Humbly.”

  The older man smiled with warm welcome. Although he had obviously changed for dinner he still managed to look rumpled with his hair sticking upward with tenacious independence.

  “Welcome home, Adam.”

  “Is Addy not down yet?”

  “No, I fear tha
t we lost track of time,” he admitted ruefully. “She went to change only a few moments ago.”

  Adam smiled somewhat wryly. “I suppose I may reasonably surmise that you had an enjoyable afternoon?”

  The sherry eyes twinkled. “Yes, indeed. I hope you do not mind, but I have asked Addy to paint my portrait. She has been sketching me all afternoon.”

  Adam felt a flicker of surprise. He could not recall the last occasion he had seen Addy with her paints. Certainly not since their wedding. A disturbing image of Addy standing in a field with the wind whipping her brilliant skirts and her raven locks tumbled about her shoulders rose to mind. How often had he watched her from afar? Not daring to approach for fear that she might flutter away like a frightened butterfly.

  With an effort he banished the image. Such days were in the past and best forgotten.

  “No, I am delighted,” he retorted in all truth. “I do not believe she has painted in some time.”

  “Ah well, I believe she feared that it would not be entirely seemly for the wife of a War Department consultant to be splattered with paint,” Humbly said in vague tones.

  Adam grimaced, moving to pour himself a measure of brandy. “Yet another sin laid upon my doorstep,” he muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Adam slowly turned back to face the Vicar. Humbly could not remain at the townhouse and not realize that all was not well between him and Addy, he ruefully acknowledged. Perhaps it would be best to simply confess the truth.

  “Do you know, Humbly, I have always possessed a great deal of arrogance regarding my own infallibility,” he said, leaning against the heavy side table. “I believed that if I set upon a task with the proper knowledge and a careful strategy I would be assured of success.”

  Humbly shrugged. “It is a reasonable assumption.”

  “Not when it comes to marriage,” he retorted grimly.

  A hint of sympathy touched the plump countenance. “Is there something troubling you, my son?”

  Adam abruptly dropped his gaze to the amber liquid in his glass. He was never comfortable discussing his inner thoughts and feelings. He had been taught from a young age that a man was expected to remain stoically in command at all times.

  “When my father informed me of my grandfather’s promise to wed me to Addy I was frankly horrified. The Morrow household is closer to an asylum than a respectable home. Addy’s mother is forever painting naked footmen, farmers, and even aristocrats in her front salon and her father is a notorious rogue who has managed to create scandal from Surrey to London to Devonshire. That isn’t even to mention the unsavory characters that are constantly clinging to their household. Revolutionaries, drunken poets, and debauched dandies without a feather to fly with.”

  Humbly cleared his throat in an uncomfortable manner. “Yes, the Morrows are rather eccentric.”

  “Eccentric?” Adam gave a humorless laugh. “Gads, Morrow keeps a string of mistresses in a cottage just a few paces from his own home.”

  “Very unpleasant.”

  “And, then, Addy.” Adam heaved an unconscious sigh, feeling the familiar tangle of fondness, exasperation, and guilt that wracked him whenever he thought of his young wife. “Well, she was hardly the placid debutante I had thought to make my wife. She was wild, headstrong, and utterly lacking in fashionable polish.”

  The Vicar was swift to bristle at the least hint of censure toward his beloved friend.

  “It is true that Addy is not sophisticated, but she has always possessed a good heart and lovely spirit.”

  “Yes, which I assured myself would be admirable qualities in a wife if I could ensure she did not follow in her family’s footsteps,” he said, taking a sudden gulp of the fiery liquid.

  “Obviously she has not,” Humbly pointed out in reasonable tones.

  Adam winced in spite of himself. “No, I made very certain before we wed that she understood I would not tolerate the scandalous behavior of her parents,” he admitted. “I made a precise list of what I expected in my bride. I even chose her wardrobe to ensure she would not be an embarrassment when we arrived in London.”

  A heavy silence greeted his dark words and, glancing upward, Adam discovered Humbly regarding him with a watchful gaze.

  “And Addy agreed to this list?” he at last demanded in carefully bland tones.

  Adam waved a restless hand. “What choice did she have? Her parents had managed to squander their fortune years ago and only survived in the knowledge they would receive a settlement when Addy and I wed.”

  “Ah.” The Vicar nodded in a knowing manner. “Well, you should be pleased. Addy has become a most proper lady.”

  “Yes, I should be delighted,” Adam agreed grimly.

  “But you are not?”

  Adam polished off the brandy in a single gulp. He thought of the past few months with Addy in his home. No, he was not bloody well delighted. No man would be delighted to possess a shadow that slipped from his grasp whenever he reached out to take hold.

  “It is not pleasant to live with a woman who is clearly miserable,” he conceded with a pained grimace.

  “Surely you exaggerate,” Humbly protested.

  Adam gave a shake of his head. “No, I do not. Since becoming my wife Addy has lost her spirit. She no longer laughs or teases with others. Indeed, she does not take any pleasure whatsoever in our lives.”

  “Well, she is in London for the first time with few friends about,” the Vicar attempted to comfort him. “She is no doubt lonely.”

  Adam desperately wished that loneliness were all that troubled his bride. Such a trifling problem would be easy to solve. He knew all too well that her distress ran far deeper.

  “I have offered to make more time together, but she has made it clear that she does not seek my company. The truth is that she barely tolerates my presence.”

  Humbly gave a click of his tongue, oddly not shocked or embarrassed by Adam’s uncomfortable confession.

  “I am sure you are mistaken, Adam,” he said firmly. “Perhaps she merely fears that she cannot please you.”

  Adam frowned at the accusation. He was intimately familiar with a fear of not being able to please a demanding taskmaster. His own father had been a stern man who demanded nothing short of perfection from his only son. Adam had struggled most of his life to live up to such impossible expectations, up until the day his father had at last been laid to rest in the family crypt.

  Could he have unintentionally made Addy fear he intended to be forever critical? Could she be avoiding him because she thought he was judging her and finding her lacking?

  It was an unpleasant thought. And one he did not wish to dwell upon until he possessed the proper privacy to give it his full attention.

  Giving a shake of his head Adam set aside his empty glass. “Forgive me, Humbly. I did not mean to burden you with my troubles. Especially when you have just arrived.”

  His guest smiled with gentle understanding. “It is what I do. You may always confide in me, Adam. I hope that you consider me your friend.”

  “Thank you.”

  The distant sound of approaching footsteps brought an end to any further conversation. Adam squared his shoulders as he prepared to meet his wife’s cool gaze, but oddly, Humbly began to pat his coat pockets in a distracted manner.

  “Oh dear.”

  “Is something the matter?”

  “I believe I have left my watch in the library,” he muttered. “I shall return in a moment.”

  With surprising speed the Vicar waddled across the room and disappeared through a side door. Adam gave a shake of his head, suddenly realizing that he had been depending upon Humbly’s bright chatter to fill the icy distance between him and his wife.

  There was no help for it, however, as Addy stepped into the room, attired in a pale lavender gown. He winced slightly at the unbecoming knot of curls scraped to the top of her head before offering a half bow.

  “Good evening, Addy.” He slowly straightened. “
Would you care for a ratafia?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She waited until he crossed to hand her a thin, crystal glass. “I am sorry I am late.”

  “Humbly has already explained your absence. Besides, I assure you that it was worth the wait,” he said gallantly, unsurprised when she shifted with unease.

  She was unaccustomed to compliments from him.

  “Where is Mr. Humbly?”

  “I believe he went in search of an errant watch.” Adam returned to his post beside the side table. It was that or lift his hands and wrench her raven curls free of the painful knot. “The Vicar tells me that you have agreed to paint his portrait.”

  “Oh, no.” She gave a sharp shake of her head. “I have only agreed to make a few sketches. I do not feel qualified to paint a portrait.”

  “Nonsense. You possess an exquisite talent,” he insisted.

  “We shall see.” She flashed him a wary glance. “Unless, of course, you are opposed to the notion?”

  His brows drew together at her question. “Why the devil should I be opposed?”

  “It is not the occupation of most ladies of society.”

  “Addy, I would be quite happy to know you are doing something that pleases you,” he said in tones he hoped were reassuring. In truth he wanted to throw up his hands in annoyance. “I am not the ogre that you have made me out to be.”

  Her lashes abruptly dropped. “It is difficult to know what you will or will not approve of, Adam.”

  Adam resisted the urge to check and see if he had sprouted horns and a tail.

  Surely only a devil could be as bad as Addy believed?

  “For God’s sake, Addy, all I have ever requested was that you not create a scandal. Surely that is not unreasonable considering the circumstances?” he demanded in a tight voice.

  “Considering what circumstances?” she asked, her magnificent eyes flashing with a sudden fire. “My family?”

  “Well, they are hardly respectable,” he ground out.

  “Perhaps not, but they do know how to enjoy life.”

  “Oh yes, they know how to enjoy it all right. With every scoundrel and misfit who happens by,” he muttered.

  “Surely that is preferable to a tedious existence where one is constantly obliged to fear what others are saying about one?”