Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought her parents would travel to London. At least not without a proper invitation.

  Which was ridiculous, she sternly lectured herself.

  When had her parents ever considered what was proper?

  Although they would never deliberately cause another pain, they were like children who readily indulged their every whim. They never considered whether their actions might be inconvenient or even embarrassing to another. And they certainly never considered the notion that they should control their impulses. If it brought them enjoyment that was all that mattered.

  Good heavens, what was she to do?

  Visions of digging a deep hole in the garden rose to mind.

  Her pleasant notion was brought to an end as Adam settled his large frame beside her and smiled in a rueful fashion.

  “Well, that is a rather effective means of putting an end to an evening of romance.”

  Addy’s expression was one of distress. “I am sorry.”

  He gave a shake of his head as he gently gathered her hands in his own.

  “There will be other evenings, my dear.” He smiled with wicked anticipation. “Or at least I hope so.”

  Although Addy appreciated his attempt to lighten her mood, her heart felt too heavy to respond.

  The poor man obviously had no notion of the destruction her parents could wreak upon their quiet household.

  If he did he would no doubt be fleeing in terror.

  “No, I meant that I am sorry that my parents have descended upon us in such a fashion,” she said in low tones.

  He squeezed her hands in reassurance. “It is no doubt our own fault for not having invited them sooner. Frankly it never occurred to me that they might be concerned for your welfare.”

  Addy gave an unladylike snort. “No doubt because they have never been concerned for my welfare before.”

  “They did travel a goodly distance to see you.”

  “Me? Fah.” She turned to meet his steady gaze. She had already deduced the reason for her mother’s visit. “My mother has always longed for a London townhouse. She has no doubt been counting the days until she could reasonably establish her claim upon your home.”

  “Our home,” he corrected in firm tones.

  His gentle reminder only increased her misery. Adam had taken such an effort to please her over the past week. Never before had she felt so close to him. Never had her heart leaped and her breath quickened when he entered the room. Never before had she anxiously risen, eager to be out of her chambers and fly down the stairs to share breakfast with her husband.

  Her marriage had suddenly seemed real. Her feelings for Adam had . . . well, to be perfectly honest, she had determined not to examine the odd tangle of warmth and breathless anticipation that assaulted her when she thought of her husband.

  It was safer to simply enjoy the newfound peace.

  And now that peace was about to be snatched away.

  It was utterly unfair.

  “This is terrible,” she moaned.

  “Addy.” Reaching out he tilted her chin upward. The gray eyes closely inspected her drawn features. “What is it?”

  There was little point in attempting to conceal her coiled fear. She did not doubt it was visible to the most obtuse soul. And no one could accuse Adam Drake of being obtuse.

  “I may love my parents dearly, but we both know they will have this household in utter ruin before luncheon.”

  Adam grimaced at the unarguable truth in her words.

  “I can not pretend to be overly pleased by our visitors. Indeed, their timing could not be worse. But we can hardly throw them out of the house.”

  “You will be ready enough to throw them out when the salon is overrun with every radical, poet, and artist in London,” she warned. “And, of course, there will be my mother’s inevitable string of admirers.”

  He gave a dramatic shudder. “Gads, I do hope she does not decide to paint them in the nude. I do not believe poor Humbly could bear the shock.”

  Addy regarded her husband with a vague wariness. “Adam, surely you do not find this amusing?”

  His fingers moved to lightly stroke her cheek.

  “Would you prefer that I storm about the room in fury?” he asked. “It would change nothing.”

  She sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Do not fret. We will somehow manage to survive.”

  “We might. I am not certain your reputation will.”

  “Allow me to worry about my reputation,” he retorted.

  “But you have always said ...”

  He pressed a silencing finger to her lips, a hint of regret upon his countenance.

  “I think we have already agreed I said far too much in the early days of our marriage.”

  She felt a faint shiver at the intimacy of his touch. “You had some provocation, I fear.”

  His soft laugh brushed her cheek. “Surely we are not now to argue over whether I was a fool or not?”

  It took a long moment before a shaky smile at last curved her lips.

  “No.”

  “Good. I would much rather kiss you than argue with you.”

  That swirling heat attacked her stomach as his gaze slowly lowered to her parted lips.

  When she had first learned of the prospect of her evening alone with Adam she had told herself it was the perfect opportunity to prove that she could change as well.

  She would welcome his kisses, she had told herself. She would prove she was no longer a petulant child, but a woman who could bring him pleasure.

  And from the moment he had entered the salon, she realized that it would take no effort to respond to his touch. For days he had teased her with his fleeting caresses. He had stirred to life a strange excitement that had haunted her days and made her restlessly toss in her bed at night.

  She had been as anxious as Adam to celebrate their evening alone.

  Now she felt a deep pang of frustration.

  Blast her parents.

  “You would rather kiss me?” she encouraged softly.

  The smoldering glow returned to the gray eyes. “Most definitely.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, her lips parting as he lightly nuzzled the corner of her mouth.

  “Now, this is how I intended to spend our evening.”

  She arched toward him. “I see.”

  Adam gave a wicked chuckle. “I would rather you just feel.”

  Her hand raised to touch his lean cheek at the same moment the familiar voice of Vicar Humbly boomed through the room.

  “Dear heavens, am I intruding?”

  * * *

  A dark cloud hung over Addy’s head.

  It had been three days since her parents had landed themselves in her salon and while the townhouse had not actually crumbled at their arrival, she knew it was only a matter of time.

  Each day had been fraught with strain as her father plunged himself into the giddy pleasures that London had to offer and her mother grew increasingly restless in the placid peace that dominated the household.

  Adam had wisely returned to his routine of devoting his time to the War Department, while Addy waited in dread for the scandal to explode.

  And there would be a scandal, she had no doubt, glancing in annoyance at her mother, who leaned over her shoulder and made disapproving noises beneath her breath.

  Addy had fled to her studio with Mr. Humbly in an effort to distract her nervous tension. She had hoped that an hour or two of working upon the portrait would help to ease her mind. But they had barely begun when her mother had burst into the room and promptly proclaimed the portrait was thoroughly unsatisfactory.

  “Perhaps just an angel in the corner,” Lady Morrow suggested in helpful tones.

  “No, Mother.”

  “Well, at least add some color in the background. It looks positively dreary.”

  Addy gripped her brush so tightly it was a miracle that it did not snap.

  “It is dignifie
d.”

  “Nonsense. It is merely drab.”

  “Mother.” Addy glared at the older woman in obvious warning.

  “Oh, very well,” her mother retorted peevishly. “It is your portrait. If Mr. Humbly does not mind, who am I to complain?” She abruptly straightened. “I believe I shall go and see if I can not discover a bit of excitement to liven this dull household.”

  Addy experienced a familiar sick sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  Her mother in search of excitement was always dangerous.

  “Not too much excitement, Mother,” she warned.

  Lady Morrow heaved a sigh. “Really, my dearest, you have become quite tedious since your marriage.”

  “No, Mother, this has nothing to do with my marriage,” Addy corrected with a flare of insight. Since her marriage she had tried to paint her past with a rosy hue. Her resentment toward Adam had clearly befuddled her mind. It was only over the past few weeks that she had begun to realize that her life in the Morrow household had been anything but perfect. “I have never particularly enjoyed being embroiled in scandal. I just had no say in the matter when I was young. I do, however, have a say in this household.”

  Her mother gave a startled blink at her words. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Addy narrowed her gaze. “No drunken poets, no opera dancers, no radicals that still smell of Newgate, and no naked gentlemen in my salon.”

  “Surely I am not to be confined to stuffy matrons?” Lady Morrow demanded.

  Unrepentant, Addy gave a shrug. ‘You could always visit a museum or attend one of the numerous lectures being held throughout the city.”

  The older woman pressed a hand to the magnificent bosom, readily exposed by the crimson gown.

  “Horrid. I would as soon return to Surrey.”

  Not willing to be manipulated by the shrewd woman, Addy offered a calm smile.

  “Shall I call for your carriage?”

  There was a tense silence before Lady Morrow tilted back her head to laugh with tinkling amusement.

  “Very well. Ancient, creaking matrons it is. Until later, my dear.”

  With a casual wave of her hand, Lady Morrow swept from the room, leaving behind a far from comforted Addy.

  She believed her mother would be satisfied with consorting with proper matrons when she sprouted wings and a halo.

  Whatever her promises. Lady Morrow would do precisely what she desired, regardless of Addy’s pleas. It was not that she deliberately desired to embarrass her daughter. She just could not help herself.

  Slowly closing her eyes, Addy shook her head.

  “Lord, give me patience.”

  “Did you say something, Addy?” Mr. Humbly inquired from his position across the room.

  Forcing her eyes open, Addy grimaced in resignation.

  “Merely requesting a bit of heavenly assistance.”

  The Vicar sent her a sympathetic smile. “Is it that bad?”

  “My parents are not renown for their modest behavior or proper manners.”

  “No.” His gaze became speculative. “But they will, indeed, add a bit of excitement to your household.”

  Addy gave a violent shudder. “That is precisely what I am afraid of.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Addy knew she was being a coward.

  As mistress of the house it was her duty to be with her guests. She should be ensuring their comfort, providing them with entertainment, and arranging visits to the various sights of London.

  Instead she had ordered her breakfast to be served in her chambers and lingered long after she had attired herself in an apricot muslin gown and loosely arranged her curls atop her head.

  It had been over a week since her parents had arrived and frankly she was weary of the daily battles with her mother. It was worse than having a spoiled child beneath her roof. There had been an endless stream of complaints of the boredom of Addy’s life and at times loud tantrums when Addy refused to give a lavish ball. Her mother had sworn that she would expire from boredom if she were forced to spend one more day in the townhouse.

  And as for Lord Morrow ... well, Addy chose not to think about where her father disappeared to day after day. It was disturbing to contemplate the notion he was enjoying the delights of the local brothels or perhaps tossing away a fortune at the game tables.

  At the moment it was easier to ignore his daily absences.

  Staring out the window at the garden below, Addy heaved a faint sigh.

  Would her parents ever leave?

  For that matter, was Humbly ever to return to Surrey?

  Would she ever be alone with her husband again?

  A smile of pure irony curved her lips.

  It was not that long ago she had thought she would give anything to avoid Adam. She would have welcomed Humbly, her parents, and perhaps the devil himself to act as a barrier between her and her husband.

  Now she wished that they would all disappear and return her house to the peaceful, predictable establishment it had once been.

  She wanted her evenings devoted to Adam, not pacifying her mother and apologizing to poor Mr. Humbly.

  A sharp knock on her door forced Addy away from the window and across her chamber. She reluctantly suppressed the desire to ignore the summons, realizing she could not hide forever. Eventually she would have to make her way downstairs to face the predictable complaints and reproaches.

  Expecting her mother, Addy was caught off guard as she opened the door to discover a young maid standing in the hall.

  “Oh, Mrs. Drake, you must come immediately,” the young servant cried the moment Addy came into view.

  Addy’s astonishment swiftly altered to sharp apprehension at the sight of the maid’s harried expression.

  Nothing good ever came from such an expression.

  “Good heavens, what now?” she demanded, very much longing to slam the door in the girl’s face.

  “I ... in the front parlor. Please, you must hurry,” the maid stammered, offering a hasty curtsy before rushing back down the hall.

  “Can there be no peace?” Addy muttered, forcing herself to leave the blessed comfort of her room. God alone knew what she would discover, she seethed as she marched down the steps. A menagerie gone mad, a lovesick fool threatening to plunge a dagger into his heart, or a belligerent buck hoping to put a bullet into her father.

  The sound of raised voices could be heard long before she reached the salon and, tossing up a silent prayer for strength, she hurried forward and stepped into the room.

  For a moment she could not comprehend what had caused such a panic. Her mother was calmly standing beside the chimneypiece, a tiny smile upon her lips. Otherwise, the room appeared empty. Then a series of grunts and gasps sent her gaze flying to the floor where two well-dressed gentlemen were determinedly attempting to choke one another.

  She watched in horror as the gentleman beneath the other made a sudden surge to flip himself atop the other. The sudden action sent a delicate pier table wobbling and, rushing forward, Addy pulled it to safety as she glared at her mother.

  “What the devil is going on here?”

  Reluctantly pulling her attention from the combatants, Lady Morrow favored her with a brilliant smile.

  “Ah, good morning, Addy.”

  Addy pointed furiously at the grappling men on the floor. “Who are these men?”

  “Well, the one currently on the bottom is Mr. Dalmond and the one on top is Lord Powell.”

  Her mother’s amusement only added fuel to Addy’s temper.

  “Why are they rolling about on my floor like a pair of idiots?”

  Lady Morrow allowed herself a smug laugh. “I fear they are fighting over who will be allowed to pose as Hercules in my latest painting.”

  Addy threw up her hands in sheer disgust. “I said, no painting.”

  “Well you have forbidden me to entertain and your father has abandoned me to pursue his own pleasures,” her mother retorted in defensive tones. “Yo
u can scarcely expect me to lay about this house doing nothing all day.”

  Addy’s hands clenched in the need to grasp her mother and shake her silly.

  “I expect you to keep your cicisbeos from brawling in my front salon.”

  The older woman glanced toward the grunting, red-faced gentlemen that appeared more akin to guttersnipes than pinks of the ton.

  “I think it is rather charming.”

  “Mother.” Addy gritted her teeth.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Stop them.”

  Lady Morrow arched a superior brow. “My dear, no woman of sense attempts to come between gentlemen intent on doing one another injury.”

  “Damn.” Realizing that she would have to take matters into her own hands, Addy stalked to the ridiculous nodcocks and kicked one of the legs that was sticking out. “Enough. Halt this foolishness at once.”

  Neither man paid her the least regard as they battled to gain the upper hand.

  “Addy, I think perhaps ...”

  Her mother’s words were cut off as a dark, ice edged voice sliced through the room.

  “What is going on here?”

  Addy breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to discover her husband striding rapidly toward her.

  “Adam.”

  Barely acknowledging her presence Adam reached down to grasp the men by the scruffs of their necks. With tremendous strength he hauled the two of them upward and shockingly knocked their heads together. The men yelped in pain as with a disdainful expression Adam thrust them toward the door.

  Both stumbled forward and angrily turned about to confront their assailant. It took only one glance, however, for them to blanch in fear as they discovered Adam regarding them with a frozen dislike.

  “Out,” he commanded, pointing toward the door. “Now.”

  “Yes, of course,” babbled buffoon number one, backing his way to safety.

  “Certainly. Pray forgive me,” echoed buffoon number two, just as swift to make his retreat.

  Within moments the house had regained its peace and Adam turned to regard his mother-in-law with a glittering gaze.

  “I suppose this is your doing?”

  Lady Morrow paled beneath his cold restraint, but as always she refused to take responsibility for her behavior.