Candice Hern (29 page)

Adam nodded. "Done. There is one more thing, Sherwood." He narrowed his eyes as he studied the man. "Mrs. Nesbitt."

Sherwood's smile faded. "I understand she has gone home."

"She has, and asked me to tell you how sorry she is about your accident. But tell me, Sherwood. Were you planning on seducing Mrs. Nesbitt while at the same time trying to woo Clarissa away from me? That is why you invited the Leighton-Blairs, is it not? To try to win her back?"

Sherwood pulled a face. "I never had any hope of winning Clarrie. I just wanted to spend time with her in the country. She had never seen Ossing and I thought she might enjoy it."

"You thought to tempt her with it."

Sherwood shrugged. "Perhaps."

"And Mrs. Nesbitt?"

"I only hoped for a bit of sport with her, since Clarrie was not available to me."

Adam winced. Marianne, a bit of sport?

"And now that Clarissa
is
available? Will you still try for a bit of sport on the side? You will forgive the question, I hope, but I feel somewhat responsible for the girl. I want her to be happy."

"Can't imagine why you care a fig about a young chit who threw you over. But not to worry. Clarrie's all I ever wanted. If I can have her, I won't need anyone else."

"Good man. I shall not, then, fret over Clarissa's future happiness."

Sherwood reached out a hand. Adam clasped it and they shook in confirmation that all was well between them.

"You're a great gun, Cazenove. A real gentleman. I promise to try my best to make Clarrie happy. I only hope you won't suffer publicly from this dustup. And I trust that you will someday find another lady, one who will truly make you happy."

He had found the lady. Now he had to find out if she was ready to make him happy. And there was something he had to do first, just in case she was.

* * *

Marianne had brooded over the situation with Adam for three days. Her mood had swung from anger to euphoria and back again. She had cried and laughed and stormed about in a rage. She hated that he had shown her such pleasure when he knew he could never be with her again. She wished and wished he had not done it.

And yet she'd had one glorious night of love that she would remember for the rest of her life.

Over and over in her mind she had relived every aspect of Adam's lovemaking. Every scandalous detail. She had come to believe that it had been so wonderful
because
it had been Adam. She was quite sure it would not have been at all the same with Julian or any other man. Adam was certainly a skilled lover, but there had been more than just skill involved. There had been tenderness and affection and generosity that only Adam could have given her. She had even begun to suspect that he had not actually set out to dupe her. She kept recalling his words.

It's me.

He must have assumed she would recognize his voice or his body or something else about him. Now that she knew it had been Adam, she remembered lots of little things that she ought to have recognized. His long hair. The shape of his hands. The way he smelled. The strong line of his jaw.

But she had been expecting Julian and so none of those things had come to mind to suggest it was anyone else.

Are you disappointed?

She thought the question had been because he had made her wait so long. But now she believed he had been asking if she was disappointed that he was not Julian. And he had been so pleased when she'd said she was not.

She was, therefore, willing to concede that he may not have set out to pretend he was Julian. But if so, then why the devil had he acted the next morning as though nothing had happened between them? Marianne wondered if overhearing her panicked confession to the Merry Widows had made him realize she had
not
known it was him, and then for some reason he decided to leave it that way and not tell her the truth.

But why?

There was one more thing she'd remembered about that night. Adam had whispered words of love to her. He had called her "my love" over and over, and told her he would always love her. Believing it was Julian, she had not taken the words seriously. It had just been a part of the seduction, she'd thought. Lovely to hear, but not real.

However, Adam, not Julian, had said those words to her, and so they had taken on a whole new meaning. Adam would not use words of love in such a cavalier manner. Not to her.

It thrilled her to think that he might indeed love her. Her heart soared to imagine it. But if he did love her, then why on earth was he marrying that young twit of a girl? How could he tell Marianne he loved her, make beautiful love to her, and then blithely walk off and marry Clarissa?

It was probably best that he did so. If he was in love with Marianne and had been free, she did not quite know what she would do about it. It was exhilarating, but it also frightened her to consider another man's love. How could she? David was her one True Love and always would be.

So, as cruel as it was for Adam to love her for one night and leave her, it was probably for the best.

And there was that kiss in the carriage. She was almost certain it was meant as a kiss of farewell. Without ever admitting he'd been her secret lover, he was telling her it would never happen again, that they could never be together again. He was telling her good-bye. Marianne had the horrible suspicion that she might never see him again. And that would be the cruelest blow of all.

Damn him for turning her life upside down.

* * *

"You must repeat your story for the benefit of Beatrice," Penelope said. "She missed all the excitement."

The Merry Widows had gathered at Grace's house for their regular Fund meeting, but it did not look as though any business would be conducted that afternoon. All the ladies, including Grace, were agog with Marianne's predicament.

She related a brief version of the story for Beatrice, who expressed her shock and disbelief. "Who could have done such a thing?" she asked.

Marianne had considered whether or not to tell them the truth. She finally decided to do so because she wanted their advice. "As it happens, I know who it was."

"You do?" Penelope's voice rose to a squeak and she stared at Marianne wide-eyed. "Well, for heaven's sake, tell us. Who was it? Was it Sir Neville Kenyon after all?"

Four anxious faces were turned to Marianne. The clink of teacups, the rhythmic pinging of stirring spoons, the dainty crunching of tea biscuits – all stopped in the expectant silence.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It was Adam Cazenove."

"No!"

"I don't believe it!"

"Cazenove?"

They all spoke at once. The only one who did not look completely aghast was Wilhelmina, who merely smiled.

"How do you know it was Cazenove?" Beatrice asked. "Did he tell you?"

"No, in fact he pretended nothing had happened. It was only after I'd left that I began to put together all the clues. But there is no question about it. Adam was my secret lover."

"Dear heaven," Grace said, shaking her head.

"You did say it was an extraordinary performance, did you not?" Penelope said. "Cazenove is well known for his skill in the bedroom. Lucky you!"

"On the contrary," Marianne said, "I am not at all lucky. In fact, I am feeling quite distressed about the whole thing. I really do not know what to do. I'm so confused!"

"I am sure you must be," Beatrice said. "What an interesting development, to be sure."

"I am hoping for your advice, ladies," Marianne said. "Should I tell him I know? Or should I simply forget about it and never mention it again? He is soon to be married, after all, and so it is not as though the experience can be repeated. So there is really no point in discussing it with him. Is there?"

Every time she thought of his marriage, a vivid image came to mind of him pleasuring Clarissa in their bed. She knew now exactly how it would be between them. She wished she did not know, but she did, and it would make it more difficult whenever she saw them together.

"Oh, my goodness," Grace said. "You don't know."

"Know what?"

"It certainly puts a different spin on the situation, does it not?" Penelope said.

"What does?" Marianne asked, her gaze darting between Grace and Penelope. "What are you talking about?"

"There was quite a little scandal at Ossing Park just after you left," Wilhelmina said.

"And now there is to be no marriage at all," Penelope said.

What?
No marriage?

"Miss Leighton-Blair behaved most improperly with Lord Julian," Grace said, "spending the night in his room after his accident."

"It turns out she was in love with Lord Julian the whole time," Penelope said, "and when she heard of his injury, she flew to his side. The silly girl fell asleep on his bed, if you can believe it."

She almost could not. It was too incredible. Marianne brought a hand to her forehead in hopes her head would stop spinning. Little Clarissa was in love with the man who was to have been Marianne's lover? And Adam was not to be married? Dear God.

Wilhelmina gave a disgusted snort. "Lady Presteign raised such a fuss that the whole party knew what happened. Everyone was agog with the tale. Poor Miss Leighton-Blair became the center of a scandal."

"And I heard," Grace said in a conspiratorial tone, "that her father insisted she call off the betrothal, so that Mr. Cazenove would not be forced to take on a bride with a ruined reputation."

"I have no doubt Leighton-Blair pressed to end the engagement," Wilhelmina said, "when he can marry his daughter to the son of a duke instead."

"And Cazenove quietly took himself off," Grace said. "He left Ossing that afternoon, and the house party began to fall apart. Lady Presteign put on a good face and tried to convince everyone to stay, but too much had happened. The three of us left the next day, and the rest soon after, I presume."

"Good heavens," Marianne said, quite abashed at the news, and the tiniest bit excited as well. Adam was free now. Free from that silly girl, thank heaven. But what did it mean? Those words of love came back to mind. Now that he was free, would he repeat them? Would he become the lover she had been seeking all Season? And if he'd left Ossing that same day, where was he? "What am I to do now?"

"About Cazenove?" Beatrice asked.

"What do I say to him? How do I face him?"

"With open arms, you foolish woman," Penelope said. "The man is free to be your lover now. And after that first performance, I'd imagine you would be thrilled to repeat it. With his betrothal no longer an obstacle, what is stopping you?"

"He still deceived me," Marianne said, not quite ready to confess her biggest fear, that he was in love with her. "He had not ended his betrothal when he crept into my bed. He was still committed to someone else, and must have assumed the marriage would proceed as planned. I cannot ignore that."

"Perhaps he deserves a bit of punishment," Wilhelmina said with a smile. "If he comes to you now and confesses what he did, I do believe you ought to exact the tiniest bit of revenge."

"Excellent idea," Penelope said with a sly grin. "He must be punished for deceiving you."

"I do believe," Wilhelmina said, "that you must not make it easy for him when he comes to you and confesses, even if he declares his love for you."

Dear God, what would she do if he told her he was in love with her? Was there any hope he'd been expressing only the love of a good friend and not ... something more?

Wilhelmina studied her closely. "Oh, he
will
make a declaration, my girl, mark my words."

"What makes you think so?"

"One need only watch the way he looks at you to know he loves you. I have suspected it for some time. When I realized he'd made love to you, I was certain of it."

"You knew it was Adam?" Marianne asked.

"I suspected as much. The man is head over ears in love with you, and I cannot for the life of me imagine why he tied himself to that foolish Leighton-Blair girl. The only reason that comes to mind is that you had given him the impression you were not available to him."

"I did tell him in no uncertain terms that I never wished to marry again."

"And until recently, you were not looking for a lover, either. There. You see? And so he engaged himself to that little twit, but before the deed was done he decided to steal one night in your bed by pretending to be someone else. The sneaky devil."

"Oh, yes," Penelope said with a gleeful grin. "He most definitely should be punished."

With much laughter and creative enthusiasm, Wilhelmina and the others proceeded to tell Marianne just exactly how she might punish Adam for playing such games with her.

"But remember, my girl,"
Penelope said, "not to be too hasty if he tries to entangle himself in another betrothal — with
you
this time. We pledged ourselves to find lovers, you know. Not husbands."

"Don't worry," Marianne said. "I still have no intention of marrying again. But once I ring a peal over Adam's head, I just might need a supply of juniper juice."

The laughter of all five ladies echoed in the room.

"And what about you, Beatrice?" Penelope asked a few minutes later. "What have you been up to while we were enjoying all the interesting happenings at Ossing? I don't suppose you have found yourself a lover, have you?"

Beatrice smiled enigmatically. "It is quite possible I have."

"I knew it!" Penelope exclaimed, slapping a hand on the tea table, rattling cups and saucers precariously. "I told the others you were up to something."

"I wasn't up to anything before you left," Beatrice said, "but something quite extraordinary happened while you were gone."

"Well, don't just sit there grinning about it," Penelope said. "Tell us. Who is he?"

And while Beatrice told them about the exciting evening she'd spent with a mysterious young man, Marianne's thoughts wandered to her own situation. She was too full of the news about Adam to concentrate on anything Beatrice was saying.