Virginia Henley (15 page)

“It will take a considerable effort on my part. I think you totally insensitive to my pain,” Tony said.

“You think I’m a stranger to pain?” Savage mocked lightly.

“I don’t know what you expect of me,” Tony said.

“I expect you to bear it with the strength of a man rather than the grief of a child.”

His words made Tony ashamed of her tears, and since she was masquerading as Anthony, she blushed to think she had let this guardian see Lord Lamb weep.

Adam saw the down upon the pretty face and was secretly appalled at how effeminate he was. For the first time he felt anger toward his late friend Russell. Why couldn’t he have taken his son with him to the Indies? He had been left with only a grandmother and a sister for companions. He had been totally deprived of male role models. Savage’s resolve hardened. By Christ, he would make a man of him!

“Your father was my dear friend, but I fault him for not giving you the opportunity of experiencing the Indies. You’ll have to be strong, you know, for your mother’s sake. She may go to pieces when she hears about Antonia.”

Tony had not written to her mother. She kept hoping Anthony would turn up, and neither she nor Roz wanted to put the deception they had concocted down on paper.

Adam Savage took a chair and stretched his long legs out before him. Tony perched on a corner of the desk and swung a booted foot. She studied the toe of her boot for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his. “I haven’t told mother and I don’t intend to.” Implicit in the words was the message that Tony didn’t want Savage to tell her either. “She is half a world away. Why break her heart?”

“That’s a very noble sentiment, but you cannot shield
her from the truth indefinitely. Eve will find out sooner or later.”

“In this case I’d prefer it to be later rather than sooner,” Tony said bluntly, needing to impose her will on this point at least.

Savage spread his powerful hands. “The decision is yours. I shall respect it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Savage.”

“Please, call me Adam.” He picked up the book that had fallen to the rug when he came in. “What are you reading?” He saw that it was a novel by Samuel Richardson entitled
Pamela: or Virtue Rewarded.

Tony flushed slightly. “It’s the story of a servant girl who resists the improper advances of her mistress’s son and so he marries her.”

Savage gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Try Henry Fielding’s
Adventures of Joseph Andrews.
’tis a parody on this very book, about a virtuous footman who resists the improper advances of his mistress. It’s a rollicking adventure among the alehouses and chamber pots!”

Tony was not shocked by his frank, easy conversation, though she realized she should be. Moreover, she made a mental note to get the book.

Savage decided if Tony was going to become his son, he was in sore need of an education. There was a world out there that would swallow this innocent whole if he didn’t take him under his wing and give him a dose of worldly experience. Christ, he was willing to lay odds that Tony Lamb was still a virgin!

“I told Mr. Watson to double your allowance. I honestly don’t know how you’ve managed on the pittance granted you.”

Tony was startled. With a guardian in charge of the purse strings she imagined money would be difficult to obtain. Dear God, if he’d already been in touch with Watson and Goldman they must have presented him with the bills for the gowns and other stuff.

“I spent my last quarterly allowance on new harness for the horses. I’m afraid my money couldn’t pay for things my sister and grandmother needed. Now that you’ve told them to give me more, I’ll be able to settle the bills,” she said stiffly.

Savage dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Everything has been taken care of, including the farm expenses. I’d like to inspect your tenant farms. If there are any improvements you can make, I think you should get the work done. It’s far less expensive in the long run to keep property well maintained than to wait until it’s run down and dilapidated.”

Antonia hoped that at least they could continue being frank with each other. It was hard enough to deceive him about her identity. It would be a relief if she could be truthful about all else.

“I don’t know a great deal about money matters, Mr. Savage … Adam, but I do know I shouldn’t dip into my principle.”

“I’ll reinvest your money at a much higher return. Unfortunately your finances haven’t been handled as well as they might have been, but I’ll change all that.”

Tony believed him. It was clear that here was a man capable of changing the world if he put his mind to it. In spite of herself she already grudgingly admired his directness and utter confidence. She knew immediately she could learn more from this man than all the tutors she and Anthony had had over the years.

Savage reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar case. He took out a long, slim cheroot and then a thought came to him to offer one to his ward. He was well aware that the young man had never smoked before, but here in private was a perfect opportunity for him to experience tobacco without embarrassing himself in public.

Tony, startled, shook her head, “I’ve never—” Her eyes met his and saw the tolerant amusement. “I’ve never smoked Indian tobacco, only Turkish.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Tony,” Savage encouraged.

She felt strangely warm inside. His words were intimate and held a wealth of unspoken innuendo. Tony took the finely rolled tobacco leaves and, pretending a confidence she didn’t feel, stuck it between her teeth waiting for him to light it for her.

Savage gave his ward no instructions, guessing the lad was shrewd enough to copy whatever he did. Adam lit his own first. He did it slowly, biting off the sealed end, then removing the piece of tobacco leaf with his thumb and forefinger. He struck a match, held it steadily to one end while he slowly drew on the other end with his mouth. Then he puckered his lips to blow out a cloud of fragrant blue smoke.

Tony took a deep breath and tried to hold the cheroot steady until it was lit. It shook only imperceptibly as Tony’s lips pursed to draw upon it. Suddenly she felt as if her tongue was burned and stopped drawing immediately. However, when she saw the smoldering tip was in danger of going out, she drew again and got a mouthful of smoke. She almost swallowed it, realized that would be disastrous and blew it out quickly. She did not want to meet Adam Savage’s eyes. Suddenly it was extremely important that he admire her. If she saw contempt in his eyes she would be mortified.

She observed his hand, watching his expert fingers handle the cigar. She followed his hand to his lips and watched him inhale. The gesture was almost negligent, yet was palpably sensual. Carefully avoiding his eyes, she again drew in smoke, savored the feel and taste of it in her mouth, then slowly, casually, exhaled, keeping her eyelids half-lowered so the smoke would not sting her eyes.

When she felt fairly competent she glanced into the pale blue eyes. There was no contempt but neither was there admiration. His face showed that he took it for granted Tony would smoke a cigar well. They smoked in
silence, each casually observing the other. Savage butted his cigar in a brass candleholder and Tony did likewise, suddenly feeling a little queasy.

“Show me the farms,” Adam suggested decisively, getting to his feet.

Tony resented his takeover attitude. Obviously Savage felt her incapable of meeting the tenants’ needs and thought her next to useless, but at the moment she felt worse than useless.

“All right,” Tony agreed reluctantly, knowing she had to be private before she totally disgraced herself. “Ask Bradshaw to saddle Neptune for me and I’ll meet you at the stables.”

As soon as Adam Savage closed the door, Tony leaned against it, closed her eyes, and moaned softly. Devil take the man! It was as if he had been sent deliberately to plague her. There was something about the dominant devil that touched her pride. Not for the crown jewels would she let him know she had never smoked before.

For one awful moment she thought she was going to be extremely ill. She barely had time to open the commode and drag out Anthony’s chamberpot before she was indelicately sick. Amazingly, once she had voided the contents of her stomach, the room stopped spinning. She washed her hands and face, picked up her brother’s riding crop, and walked downstairs very, very gingerly.

Tony saw the anxiety upon Roz’s face as she descended. Mr. Burke stood in the hall by the front door. Concern was also etched upon his features. Tony didn’t dare open her mouth. Instead she crossed her fingers and held them up to indicate so far, so good. If the Fates smiled upon her, she would carry it off.

She saw his beautiful Arab mount outside the stable but no sign of Adam Savage or Neptune. She went inside, trying not to breathe in too deeply. Usually the miasma of mingled horseflesh and manure had no effect on her; today,
however, she was quite uncertain she could keep her gorge from rising.

She saw Savage and Bradshaw engaged in a lively conversation, but no move had been made to saddle Neptune. As Tony approached them, Savage picked up a saddle, handed it to her, and kept right on talking to Bradshaw. She got the message. Her guardian expected a young man of seventeen to saddle his own horse if he had any self-respect.

She groaned inwardly. Adam Savage was easily the most masculine human being she had ever encountered. He exuded strength and power. It would be the easiest task in the world for him to haul a saddle high upon a horse’s back and attach the necessary riding harness. Savage was enough to make a girl feel weak at the knees. As Antonia she would have glanced at his powerful muscles, fluttered her eyelashes, and watched breathlessly as he saddled her mount for her. As Anthony she could only struggle with the damned thing herself. With resentment simmering inside her Tony swung a long leg across the saddle and, without waiting, headed through the park.

Savage caught up with her as she galloped across the fields.

“Did you bring the Arab from Ceylon?”

“Yes. I brought two, but I’m looking for more. Do you know of any decent horses about here for sale?”

Tony shook her head and said shortly, “Not with bloodlines like that.” She was irritated. He knew damned well Arabs cost a fortune!

At the first farm they tethered their horses and walked about. Savage paid more attention to the animals and the farm buildings than he did to the small farmhouse. Tony introduced him to Joe Bradley and Savage asked the man a few pertinent questions. “Could you husband more livestock if Lord Lamb acquired them for you?” He listened to what the man had to say and made some suggestions. He saw two girls eyeing Tony with whispered giggles,
but was concerned when the young man paid no attention to the females whatsoever. One of them summoned enough courage to say hello to Tony and sent him an unmistakably inviting glance. Tony muttered repressively, “Mary, run along, we’re talking business.”

Savage raised a brow. From what he remembered of seventeen-year-old youths they were walking erections; so bloody randy, they were ruled by their cocks. This pair, ripe for the plucking, apparently burned for young Lord Lamb in vain. Tony obviously thought a cock was only for pissing!

After they had inspected the second farm and were on their way back to Lamb Hall, Savage said, “If these two tenant farmers cooperated with each other, one concentrating on selective crops, the other on livestock, they could be far more productive and profitable. Harry Simpson has a son who seems ambitious. They could double their production next year. The other farmer, Bradley, has only daughters, but it would pay in the long run to get him a hired hand. You have to spend money to make money.”

Tony listened to his suggestions and grudgingly saw their merit, but thinking on a grand scale came naturally to one who had unlimited resources. “Not everyone has your money,” she said resentfully.

Savage glanced at Tony astride his beautiful hunter and thought him rather spoiled. Born to privilege, he had no idea what hard work, hunger, or responsibility were all about. Certainly he didn’t wish hunger upon anyone, but, by Satan, it wouldn’t hurt the lad to have a taste of hard work and responsibility. Savage let go of the reins and held out his calloused brown hands. “Everything I have, I got with these. I was not born to privilege.” He did not need to add,
as you were.
The unsaid words were obvious. Yet it was also patently obvious that
privilege
would have been abhorrent to the man.

Tony had an immediate response. “If you had your
choice of being born with money or earning it, you would choose the latter.”

Savage grinned. “You see right through me.”

The impact of his strong white teeth and light blue eyes against his deeply tanned face made Tony’s heart skip at least three beats. She blinked a couple of times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. His attraction was magnetic, dangerously so. Already she thought of him as the
“man with everything”
She had tried to avoid meeting him, dreaded spending any time with him, counted the minutes until he would leave, and now, inexplicably, a part of her didn’t want him to go. Her feelings about Adam Savage were totally and completely ambivalent.

When they dismounted at the stables, Savage removed his horse’s saddle and rubbed him down. Tony followed his lead. They washed their hands in a stable bucket, then strolled together up to the Hall.

“I can’t stay this time. I have a great deal of business in London and I haven’t spent any time at Edenwood yet.”

“Edenwood,” Tony breathed reverently, a dreamy look coming into her eyes.

“It’s the house I had built in Gravesend.”

“Oh, I know! I’ve been to see it many times. James Wyatt is a master architect.”

Adam Savage saw and heard the passion in the young man’s voice and thought it unusual for a youth to feel so strongly about building and design. “Would you have liked to be an architect?”

“Oh, yes! I have dozens of books on the subject. It’s not just exteriors that interest me, but interior design as well. London absolutely overflows with the greatest artists and craftsmen in the world. Perhaps these names mean nothing to you, having been away from England so long, but we have Thomas Sheraton, George Hepplewhite, Robert Adams, and Thomas Chippendale.”