A False Proposal (10 page)

Adam had questions about Bentley, but now was not the time. “And your father?” he asked.

That actually brought a wistful smile. “He died sitting in his favorite chair, reading Homer. The doctor said it was his heart. We found out afterward that he’d experienced some weakness and had been warned to take more exercise and shed some pounds. He didn’t follow the doctor’s advice.”

“If their marriage was as you described to me, he must have missed your mother terribly.”

She nodded. “Jack and I think he died of a broken heart.”

Adam found himself at a loss for words. And then Cass spoke again.

“The volume he was reading when he died…we lost it somehow. Jack and I sorted through all of Papa’s books and disposed of more than a hundred—duplicates, mainly. But this particular book was one he had written, classical mythology for children. He had compiled the stories he used to tell me when I was growing up. There had only been a limited number of volumes published, and most were given as gifts. I must have inadvertently put it with the books to be given away.” Her voice caught, and she stopped talking. He noticed she blamed herself, not Jack.

“So it was precious to you.”

She blinked away tears. “Oh, yes. I helped him with it. To get the wording right, exactly as he’d told the stories to me. It grieves me that through my own carelessness, it’s lost to me forever.”

Adam clutched her hand and squeezed it, but didn’t say anything.

“Heavens, Adam, your questions are making me maudlin. Despite everything, I am not unhappy. Please do not think of me that way.

So he simply said, “I’m sorry, Cassie, if I misjudged. Forgive me?”

Her discerning brown eyes studied his face for a long moment. “Of course I forgive you.”

God, how he wanted to wrap her in his arms. Resisting the urge was torture. Cursing himself for what Cass no doubt deemed his inexplicable behavior, he guided them toward the house.

…

Get hold of yourself, you ninny
. Cass had wanted Adam to kiss her so badly. Kiss her and pull her into his arms as he’d done before. And she’d been sure he was about to do just that. Although she had sensed he wanted the same thing, something had held him back. Maybe he thought her too vulnerable because he believed she was unhappy.
Good God! Do people view me as Miss Dirge? Is that how I appear to the world?

But something else was amiss. The entire time they’d been together, she’d felt his distraction like a barrier between them. It had made her uncomfortable and overly sensitive, which was why she’d snapped at him when he accused her of being despondent. That and the fact that he apparently had some aversion to kissing her again. And now they walked in near total silence, only the chittering of a pair of squirrels disturbing the quiet. Thank God they didn’t have much farther to go.

As they rounded the side of the house, Cass heard the unmistakable sound of carriage wheels. Surprised that anyone would be arriving so late, she said, “Are you expecting someone else?”

“One more guest and her chaperone, I believe. Pardon me, Cass. I must do the honors. I shall see you at dinner.” He turned and strode toward the newly arrived equipage as the steps were being lowered.

She started to answer, but Adam wasn’t listening. His attention was now completely riveted on the young lady stepping down from the carriage. She was a tall, shapely blonde, and looked even younger than Elizabeth Morgan, if that were possible. Adam had felt no obligation earlier, when she’d arrived. Perhaps the young lady was someone special to him.

He offered his hand to assist her on the last step. “Miss Broxton?” Cass heard him say. “And Lady Broxton,” he said to an older woman descending the carriage steps.

Now it made sense. Sir William’s daughter and wife. If Adam were to have any hope of gaining the House of Commons seat, he would have to cultivate Broxton’s patronage. And what better way to do so than by courting his daughter? Leonora wasn’t here, so she may be out of the running. Trying to ignore the prickles of jealousy stabbing at her, Cass hurried up the front steps before she was caught staring. Deborah must have been informed by a footman that the last of her guests had arrived, because she was approaching the front door as Cass entered. “Ta, darling,” she said as she swished past.

Cass smiled but didn’t answer. She dashed up to her bedchamber to prepare for the evening and get as far away as possible from the scene out front. No doubt she would be forced to endure a scold from Cousin Louisa on how little time she’d left for her toilette.

Chapter Eleven

Cass had no opportunity to speak to Adam at dinner, having been seated at some distance from him. Most of the ladies retired to their chambers after drinking tea. The men played cards and drank, but even they made it an early evening. On Sunday morning, several guests, Cass and her family included, attended church in the village.

For the remainder of the day, most were content with exploring the park, horse riding, or playing croquet on the broad expanse of lawn. Cass, managing to sneak away from Louisa, walked both in the morning and afternoon. It was on that second walk that she spied Adam with Eleanor Broxton on his arm. He appeared to be giving her a tour of the property. Well. Cass hadn’t merited such attention from him; in fact, they hadn’t even spoken since yesterday, beyond what good manners required.

So it was no surprise to her that she was once again placed nowhere near Adam at dinner. She’d probably have to shout if she wanted his attention. Or throw a piece of food. She vowed not to look his way even once. Miss Broxton claimed the spot on one side of him, while Jenny had the honor of sitting on the other. Cass was seated between Frederick Cochran, Deborah’s gentleman friend, and Atherton. At least she’d escaped sitting by Hugh, who was sandwiched between Cousin Louisa and Jenny’s mother. From what Cass could observe, however, he was charming them both between sips of soup and wine.

Cass made polite conversation with her dinner partners, although Mr. Cochran was disinterested at best. While she was attempting to converse with him, his eyes invariably strayed toward Deborah. Atherton’s interests leaned toward politics, so she talked with him about the Perceval assassination.

“John Bellingham was the assassin, I believe,” Cass said. “Have you ever heard of him?”

“Never. Reports say he was seen in the gallery of Commons recently, but there’s no law against that. By all accounts the man made no attempt to get away. He admitted his guilt and sat quietly until someone had the presence of mind to convey him to the prison room.”

“It was fortunate that the expected mob violence did not occur.”

Cass was forced to break her vow and look at Adam, since it was he who had spoken.

“In some parts of the country, the good citizens cheered Perceval’s death,” Atherton said.

Cass shuddered. She knew people blamed the Prime Minister for the hard economic times, but even so, to rejoice over his murder seemed barbaric. The man had twelve children, for pity’s sake. “His grudge against Perceval was over some perceived personal injury, which he blamed on the government,” Cass said. “He wasn’t connected with the Luddites, or any other dissenters.” Sensing Adam’s gaze on her long after she’d spoken, Cass felt her cheeks warm. Footmen were serving the second course, so she turned her attention to the portion of fish on her plate.

Atherton said, “Justice was swift. He’ll never shoot anyone else.”

“Rather too swift,” Jack said. “Good God, the man was hanged less than a week after the crime.”

“Not much time to mount a defense,” Adam said.

Hugh chimed in. “He murdered the Prime Minister. Countless witnesses saw him do it.”

“Nevertheless,” Cass said, “I agree with Jack and Mr. Grey. Everybody is entitled to a fair trial. How could that have happened in the brief interval between the assassination and the trial?” She looked up to see her cousin’s incensed gaze fastened on her. Louisa disapproved of Cass expressing her opinions too freely. She clamped her mouth shut, and opened it only after the beef course was served. From then on, she sneaked furtive glances toward Adam and company. She couldn’t help noticing that Eleanor Broxton barely spoke a word, although it seemed both Adam and Jenny were trying to draw her out.

The ladies withdrew while the men drank their port, smoked cheroots, and discussed politics, no doubt. Cass found a seat by herself in a secluded nook. She half-listened to Elizabeth Morgan playing Mozart on the pianoforte. Perhaps Cousin Louisa had been right, and Cass never should have come here. After Adam had kissed her at the dinner party, she’d expected more attention from him, much as it pained her to admit. Yesterday, after he’d teased her and practically demanded a kiss—and she’d shown herself to be so willing—he’d unaccountably changed his mind. And probably, with his mother’s help, made sure she was treated like the nonentity she was, both at dinner last night and tonight. Yet at times she had felt his watchful eyes on her. She was…not hurt, exactly, but certainly disheartened.

“Miss Linford?” A timid voice interrupted Cass’s woolgathering.

“Miss Broxton, do be seated. And please call me Cass.”

“Thank you. I’m Eleanor.” She smiled shyly. “I-I feel a little out of place. I don’t know anyone, you see.”

“Indeed. I have been in your situation and felt the same. But you’ll soon make friends and you won’t feel so odd.”

“I’m not sure why I was invited,” she confessed, her blue eyes widening.

“Oh?”

“I might have an idea, though.”

“And what is your idea, if you don’t mind confiding in me?”

“I think my father wishes me to marry one of the Grey brothers.”

“You don’t say,” Cass said, feigning surprise. “Has your papa made his feelings on the subject known?”

“No, he’s only hinted. And Mama won’t discuss it with me.”

“And what do you think of the idea?” Cass asked, knowing she shouldn’t be quizzing this naïve girl, but unable to stop.

“The older one scares me. He’s rather frightening, don’t you think?”

“Hugh? I wouldn’t call him frightening. Some say he is a rake.”

“I like Adam,” Eleanor said, blushing. “The younger Mr. Grey, that is. He’s handsome and seems kind. But I feel dim-witted in his presence. Tongue-tied. I never know what to say.”

“Allow me to give you a bit of advice, then. Ask questions. Men love to talk about themselves, and you need only listen attentively and make comments or ask for clarification now and then. Adam has a keen interest in politics, so that is a safe subject.”

“But I know nothing about politics! You are well able to join in the men’s discussions. I envy that.”

“Ask him about standing for a seat in the House of Commons. He likes to talk about that above all.” As soon as the words were out, Cass felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she’d gone too far. But Adam’s plan was no secret, so where was the harm?

“You seem to know him well.”

Cass smiled. “He and my brother have been friends for years. I’ve known him since we were children, but I’ve only seen him a few times since his return from the Continent.”

Just then, the men entered the room. Adam, the last one in, paused in the doorway as though looking for someone. Probably Miss Broxton. “Do you not think him handsome?” Eleanor asked, her gaze fixed on Adam.

Cass couldn’t resist. “Oh, very,” she said. “One of the handsomest men I have ever known. It will be a lucky woman indeed who weds him.” She saw Adam walking toward them and flew up from her chair.

“Ladies,” he said.

“Mr. Grey, please take my place,” Cass said. “I must speak to Jenny about something.”

“But—” He looked flustered. Good. Served him right. He wanted Broxton’s seat, and it seemed the daughter came with it. They’d make a grand match.

Cass felt only a little guilty as she wandered off to find Jenny. The Broxton girl was sweet. On the whole, if she wanted to marry Adam, Cass felt she’d given her good advice.

…

Adam was having the devil of a time extricating himself from the clutches of Miss Broxton. It seemed she had an endless supply of questions to ask him, and when he answered, she fixed a wide-eyed stare on him, interrupting him now and then to make a comment or ask yet another question. So far they’d covered his plan to stand for Commons (had her father told her?) and moved on to his childhood in Surrey, his European tour, and now the health and well-being of every member of his family. At least she hadn’t brought up his military service. Yet.

Under the circumstances, he should be welcoming the opportunity to engage her. And aside from impressing her father, she deserved his kindness. She was young, a guest in his home, and a virtual stranger to all. The problem was…he could not get a word in, even if he’d truly wanted to. When he tried, she spoke over him with another query.

Discreetly, he glanced over at Cassie, who was huddled with Jenny and Jack. A couple of times, he caught her slanting a look at him and Miss Broxton. Both times, he took note of her amused expression before darting her eyes away. Adam strongly suspected she’d somehow engineered his tête-à-tête with the younger girl. Why the hell else had she jumped up as if someone had shouted “Fire!” when he’d strolled over? Cassie was up to something, he was sure of it. And now all he wanted to do was make his escape from Eleanor Broxton and her tiresome questions.

Atherton saved the day. After he joined them, Adam bowed and excused himself. To his dismay, Cass was no longer talking to her brother and his fiancée. She had disappeared.
Deuce take it!
He whirled around in time to see her exit the drawing room. After a discreet pause, he left the room and caught sight of her nearing the end of the passage. He followed cautiously, not wanting her to know he was on her trail. After a few more minutes, it became obvious she was heading for the conservatory. Adam slipped in after her.

The scent of exotic flowers and citrus fruits wafted through the air, which would make it more difficult to locate Cassie by the delicate rose fragrance that always alerted him to her presence. She must bathe in some kind of rose water.
God, don’t think about Cass in her bath
. To Adam, she smelled like a rose garden at dawn. Not that he frequented rose gardens at that ungodly hour, but still, that’s what her scent reminded him of. The conservatory was in semi-darkness, and he paused to get his bearings. The swish of her skirt told him she was headed toward the open doors leading to the terrace and garden, and the moonlight streaming in guided him. He sneaked up behind her and grabbed her arm.

She let out a shriek. “Adam! You scared me to death.”

“My pardon. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“How did you find me?” She frowned at his hand clutching her arm until he let go.

“I followed you,” he said, crossing his arms. “I haven’t had an opportunity to talk to you all day. And I was tired of entertaining Miss Broxton.”

She made a choking noise he thought disguised a laugh. “You have no business following me around. What—why did you? Follow me, that is?”

God help him, he knew he shouldn’t, but he took a step toward her. “Because I wanted to do this.”

Adam coaxed her into his arms. It wasn’t hard, because Cass seemingly had no intention of resisting; she folded herself against him with an audible sigh. Slowly, he lowered his head until his lips brushed her face, lightly caressing her forehead and cheeks, her welcoming mouth. He let go of her with one hand and gently rearranged strands of her hair so that he could kiss the shell of her ear. When a soft moan broke from her, Adam claimed her lips in an aching kiss, and he felt her go limp in his embrace.

He should stop this madness right now, before things got completely out of hand. But it seemed as though he’d been restraining himself for far too long. Primal urge and instinct were controlling him now, and his intense, nearly overwhelming desire for Cass. So instead of stopping, he lowered his head and kissed the rise of her breasts pushing up from her gown. She had entwined her fingers in his hair, and Adam interpreted that as indicative of her own need. He stepped back a little and tugged at her bodice. If he could lower it enough to free her from the confines of her corset, only her chemise would lie between him and her bare skin.

In the moonlight streaming through the glass walls, Adam could see the outline of Cass’s breasts. Indeed, the lawn of her chemise clung to her form and only served to enhance his view. At that moment he wanted to consume her, but he knew he must go slowly with her. With the utmost tenderness, he held a breast in each hand, gently kneading and rubbing his thumbs over the tips in the center. Cass leaned into him, so that her breasts pushed more fully into his palms. She glanced down, curious, and when she lifted her head, he kissed her again, fiercely, hungrily. Her breath was ragged.

He’d been afraid she might be embarrassed, but he’d misread her. She was eager. He couldn’t get enough of the softness of her lips, of her sweetly exploring tongue, of the smoothness of the inside of her mouth. Lowering his hands until he was grasping the soft flesh of her bottom, he pulled her tightly against his aroused flesh, still kissing her.

Finally, breathless, he released her and stepped back. Her eyes were luminous, an inner light shining through. She looked like a mythological being, a goddess. Aphrodite. He should not be doing this; he had no right. And then she launched herself back into his arms, and he laughed deep in his throat. “You like this, then.”

“It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” Pause. “You’re not laughing at me, are you?”

“Never,” Adam whispered. “It was an expression of pleasure.” His lips found the silk of her mouth once again, while his hand inevitably found its way back to her breasts. “There are so many things I want to do—”

Wait
. Had she spoken?

Cass jerked away from him. “Adam! Someone’s coming. I hear voices.”

The devil!
She was right; he heard them, too. She was already struggling to tuck herself back into her corset. He helped her pull her stays and gown up. If it weren’t so dark, Adam knew he’d see pink flaring on her cheeks.

“What should we do?” Cass asked, sounding desperate. The voices were coming closer. He feared the door would burst open any second.

“Outside,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her in his wake. They raced out onto the terrace, down the steps, and into the garden. After rounding the corner of the house, they stopped, breathless, and Adam led her into the shadows under a grove of trees. “That was close,” he said softly.