An Unexpected Gentleman (38 page)

And she didn’t like tying herself into knots in front of a man who may, or may not, be having fun with her. She didn’t like tying herself into knots, period. Moreover, it wasn’t fair to Connor. He’d offered a sincere apology, and she’d accepted. It was wrong of her to go about grumbling and doubting his motives now. Forgiveness was granted or it was not. There was no in between.

She inhaled deeply through her nose and rubbed her hands up and down her thighs in brisk manner. “Do you know, I think this weather has made me maudlin.”

Gregory bobbed his head, seemingly content to let her change the subject. “Aye. Fair gray out.”

“I suppose we’ve been spoiled these past weeks, but I do hope our blue skies return for a time. Connor is taking me to Edinburgh next week.” She felt a rush of pleasure and excitement at the thought of the upcoming trip. Another reason, she thought, to cease questioning Connor’s motives. Another sign that he was trying. “I’ve never been to a proper town before. I can scarcely wait.”

“Aye.” A grim smile spread across his wrinkled face. “Looking forward to it myself.”

Pleasure drained so rapidly, it felt as if someone had reached inside her and torn it free.

She knew that smile. She’d seen it on Connor and his men countless times. It was the same smile they wore when they emerged from a long session in the study. There was only one reason for Gregory to be wearing it now.

“Sir Robert is in Edinburgh, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Sure and he is,” Gregory replied easily. He glanced up from his work in the ensuing silence, took one look at her face, and sighed. “You didn’t know.”

“No.”

“Ah, well.” He transferred his knife to the hand holding the wood and patted her arm with the other. “Good and bad, lass. Good and bad.”

G
regory insisted on walking her back to the house, and he kept up a steady stream of chatter along the way. Very little of what was said registered with Adelaide, and she scarcely noticed when he left her in the front hall. She walked to the library in a kind of determined daze and found Connor sitting at a writing desk stacked with papers and books. He gave her a distracted smile.

“Good morning, Adelaide. I thought you were—”

“What was your purpose in planning a trip to Edinburgh?” she heard herself ask.

“Beg your pardon?” He frowned when she refused to repeat the question, and his eyes took on a wary glint. “You know the purpose.”

“I know what you told me, and I know what Gregory told me. He’ll be joining us. Michael too, I presume.”

“Ah.” He set his pen in its holder and rose to come around the desk. She couldn’t see a shred of wariness in him now, not a hint of shame that he’d been caught in a lie. If anything, he looked relieved. “Is that what this is about?” He cupped her shoulders with his hands. “Sweetheart, Gregory and Michael will not be joining us. They’ll be in town, yes, but—”

“Why?”

“Sir Robert is there. We’ve something in store for him.”

The explanation was provided without hesitation, and it occurred to her that Connor could have demanded his men’s silence if he’d wanted to keep his true reasons for going to Edinburgh a secret. He didn’t look guilty or ashamed, because he hadn’t been trying to lie. In all probability, the idea of doing so hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Perversely, that made her feel worse. It snatched away the comfortable shield of righteous anger that had begun to fill the hole in her chest and left her with only hurt. She didn’t want lies, of course. She wanted honesty from him in all things. But would it have been so difficult to have at least thought of her feelings? Of how an invitation produced as an afterthought might look to her?

“I thought it was a trip for us. I thought you planned it for us, and that it would be about us, and we’d—” She pressed her lips together to stem the rapid flow of words. There was a telling tremor in her voice that embarrassed and frightened her. She hadn’t confronted him with the intention of pointing out the heart on her sleeve. And yet she couldn’t seem to make herself leave. She wanted something from him. A sign, a reason to hope . . . Anything.

A furrow appeared between his brows. “It is for us—”

“It’s not,” she whispered. “It has never been about us. It has always been about your revenge.” Their courtship, their marriage, their daily lives—everything had been based upon, or was arranged around, Sir Robert.

“Revenge?” He rubbed her shoulders. “Adelaide, it’s just a spot of business. It makes sense. If we’re to be there, anyway—”

“Then you might as well placate your wife by bringing her along?” She snorted and grabbed hold of the sliver of anger his words afforded. “Efficiency, thy name is Connor Brice.”

“That is not—” Connor broke off and swore at the sound of a soft knock on the door.

A footman entered, carrying a silver tray with a letter on top. “Missive’s come for you, sir.”

Connor’s hands slid away, leaving her cold. He accepted the letter and dismissed the footman with a nod. And as he read the note, his lips curved into that awful, grim smile.

The sight of it filled her with a profound sense of defeat. “I’ll not go to Edinburgh with you.”

Connor looked up in surprise. “Why not?”

She gestured angrily at the letter in his hand. “Because I’ve no interest in sharing the experience with Sir Robert.”

“What . . . Because of the note?” His expression was one of bewilderment heavily weighted with frustration. “It’s only a note. One note.” He held it out to her. “You can read it, if you like. We can—”

“I don’t want to read it,” she snapped. “I don’t care what it says.”

“You don’t . . .” Astonished, he dropped his arm. “How can you not care?”

“This is your quest, Connor, not mine. Sir Robert has never been my obsession.”

He looked at her as if she were a stranger. “You don’t wish to see him pay? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No—”

The flush of temper crept up his neck as he closed the distance between them. “Do you want me to forgive him? Let him walk away?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, what the devil do you want?”

“I want you to not care so much. Why must your life be centered around Sir Robert?”

“Because he’s a right bastard who has to pay—”

“Then toss him on a ship bound for Australia and have done with it!” She threw her hands up. “For pity’s sake, how much of yourself will you give to him? How long will you set aside everything else in your life and—”

“You . . . That’s what you mean, isn’t it? How long will I set
you
aside?” A hardness settled over his features, and his voice turned cutting. “And I deserve that, do I? Have I been a poor husband, Adelaide? Neglectful of you? Cruel to you?”

“No, of course not. I’d not have—” She snapped her mouth shut before she could finish the thought. She’d not have fallen in love with a cruel man.

“Then what the
hell
is your objection?” he growled.

His green eyes were sharp with anger and swirling with confusion. And why shouldn’t they be? Adelaide thought. She was poking and prodding and hinting, but never landing the point. Ultimately, she was trying to expose his heart while she guarded her own. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

Taking a deep breath, she held his gaze and spoke softly. “I object because it hurts to see you deny yourself happiness in the pursuit of vengeance. I object because it hurts to be part of the life you reject. I want a real marriage with you. I want . . .”
I want your love,
she thought. She tried to say it, but the words tangled with the ball of fear caught in her throat. “I want a marriage that has nothing to do with Sir Robert and revenge.”

Connor’s eyes went flat, and for several long moments, he said nothing, gave nothing of his thoughts away. When at last he spoke, his voice was cool and faintly mocking. “We had a bargain, Mrs. Brice. I have my revenge, and you have your fifteen thousand pounds. Are you attempting to renegotiate?”

She hadn’t thought of it that way, and though the idea of relinquishing her fortune frightened her, it was a fear she was willing to face. Connor was worth it.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

A flash of surprise and fear crossed his face. He shook his head slowly. “Too late; you took the money.”

“You may have it back. I would like for you to take it back. I would like our marriage to be like any other. I would like you to . . . to look forward instead of back.”

He balled the note in his hand and tossed it at the hearth with an angry flick of his wrist. “Is this a test, Adelaide?”

She shook her head. Strangely, the more agitated he grew, the more reassured she felt. He’d not be in such a temper unless at least some part of him was tempted by what she offered.

“No,” she said. “It is an offer.”

“The money in exchange for letting Sir Robert go free?”

“No. You may have your revenge. I’ve no protest against seeing Sir Robert get his comeuppance. I welcome it.” Slowly, she reached out and placed the flat of her hand against his chest, and felt the brutal pound of his heart against her palm. “But you can no longer define yourself and your life by it. It can no longer come first. Your anger and your revenge can no longer—”

“Do I come first in your life?” he asked caustically.

Be reckless,
she told herself.
Be hopeful. Expect more.

“Yes.” Her voice came out remarkably strong and clear. “I love you. There is nothing I would not do for you.”

He shivered at the words. She felt the tremor pass under her fingers. But he said nothing, and simply stared at her for what seemed an eternity. Finally, he reached up and pulled her hand away.

“Then allow me this,” he said and let her go.

 

F
or a long time after Adelaide’s departure, Connor remained in the library, going through every word of their argument. At least, he tried to go through every word. His mind kept returning to same spot, the same moment.

Her admission had hit him like a blow to the chest. He’d never known such an instant, irrational, and painful bliss. He’d lost his air, lost his sense of balance. He’d damn near lost his mind. Almost, he’d agreed to her terms. In the first moments after she’d said the words, he’d been willing to agree to anything, anything at all, just to hear her say them again. Fortunately, that moment of lost control had shocked some sense into him.

Bloody hell . . . Let Sir Robert go? Was she mad? He’d waited fifteen bloody years—no, not waited,
worked
—he’d
worked
for fifteen bloody years to see the bastard pay. And she expected him to toss it all away because of three little words?

Well, not toss, he allowed. She’d not asked him to give it up entirely.
Have done with it.
That had been her suggestion. As if he and Sir Robert were engaged in a minor quibble. Didn’t she understand the enormity of what had been done, the importance of what needed to be done? How could she claim to love him and not bloody understand?

Suddenly in need of company who had no trouble understanding, Connor left the library in search of his men. Gregory and Michael knew what it meant to seek revenge. They’d not wanted it for as long, but they’d always understood.

He found them in their usual chairs in his study, and after pouring himself a large drink, he took his own seat and explained his situation . . . In part, anyway. He skirted around a few details of the argument, and Adelaide’s confession of love he kept to himself, but the basics were relayed.

As he unburdened himself, he began to feel better. His men would stand behind him, offer a bit of well-meaning, if useless, advice, and otherwise prove their loyalty to him and the revenge they’d all worked so hard to obtain. Comradery always helped to put a man at ease. He sure as hell hoped it would ease whatever nasty bit of unpleasantness was chewing on the inside of his chest.

He rubbed at it without realizing and took another long drink of his brandy before finishing up his recitation. “I told her no, naturally. I’ll make it up—”

“Devil’s the matter with you?” Michael demanded.

Connor blinked at the outburst and set his drink down slowly. “Nothing is the—”

Gregory looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Putting aside your own wife?”

“I’ve not put her aside.”

“Aye, but you’ve put her
after
.” Michael shook his head in disgust. “A man thinks of his family first.”

Gregory nodded and lifted his glass in agreement. “His children, if he’s having any. Then his wife, then everything else.”

“Priorities, boy.”

“I know what my priorities are.” Damn it, this was not what he’d come to the study for. “Sir Robert—”

“Ain’t going nowhere,” Michael told him, before leaning back in his chair, his round face tightening into a challenging expression. “More’n what might be said for your wife.”