The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch. Louise Allen
Читать онлайн книгу.
the spark of intimacy between them had gone. She had lost the feeling that she could tell him anything, and he no longer gave back to her the warm feeling that her company amused and stimulated him.
Shaking her head at herself for being fanciful, Decima got out of bed and lifted the can of water she had left in the hearth. It was still warm and she washed and dressed quietly. But not quietly enough.
‘Miss Dessy! Let me lace your stays properly—like any respectable lady should be laced!’
Pru insisted on getting up to sit in the armchair once she had had her wash and Decima had helped her braid her long mousy brown plait. ‘Are there any more journals, Miss Dessy?’ she asked. ‘Some general ones, not just the ladies’ fashion journals?’
‘I’ll see what I can find,’ Decima promised. ‘His lordship obviously keeps a good supply of reading matter for his guests.’
When she opened the door she could hear Adam arguing with Bates from across the landing. ‘Wait a minute and let me shave you or else grow a beard, man! You’ll cut your own throat at this rate.’ There was a grumble from the groom.
‘Happy New Year,’ she called through the crack where the door stood ajar and jumped as it swung open to reveal Adam in his shirt-sleeves, an open razor in one hand and a towel in the other. He was half shaven, one side of his chin still a mass of soapy foam. Behind him she could see Bates, looking mulish, sitting up in bed with blood-flecked foam on his face.
‘And to you,’ Adam rejoined. ‘If I succeed in getting the pair of us clean shaven to greet the new year, I will join you in the kitchen shortly.’
Decima found she was blushing, yet her feet did not want to move. She had never seen a man shaving before. It was curiously intimate and Adam was dressed only in breeches and his shirt, his stockinged feet shoeless.
‘Yes, of course,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Oh, this really will not do, she chided herself as she began to assemble breakfast, bustling around with unnecessary briskness. Adam had made it quite clear last night that he wanted to maintain a decent distance and formality. Then why open the bedroom door half dressed? Whatever he felt and whatever his motives, she had to remember that he was an experienced man of the world and she, despite her age, was a singularly sheltered virgin.
But she was certainly garnering a wide variety of experiences and sensations with which to begin her new, independent life. Perhaps she might even have the confidence to venture up to London for a week or two this Season. That would scandalise Charlton.
‘A penny for them.’ Adam had come into the kitchen and was regarding her quizzically. ‘You are standing in the middle of the room, a platter of bacon in your hands and a decided smirk on your lips.’
‘What a horrible word. I never smirk.’ Decima put down the bacon and went to find the frying pan. ‘I have just thought of something I would like to do, which will scandalise Charlton.’
‘What, more than the discovery that you have spent several nights unchaperoned with a man? Poor Charlton, I am beginning to have considerable fellow feeling for him.’
Decima stared at him. ‘I have not the slightest intention of telling Charlton about this. Good Heavens, the fuss he would make! He would be on your doorstep demanding you marry me or some such dreadful nonsense.’
‘Very right and proper,’ Adam observed coolly. ‘That is exactly what an outraged brother should do. It is what I would do if it happened to one of my sisters when they were unmarried.’
‘But nothing has happened.’ Decima shook her head in bafflement at his obtuseness. ‘And Charlton won’t know about it. When I get home I will write and say I had a difficult journey because of the snow, which will make him feel superior because he warned me not to start out in the first place, and Augusta does not know when to expect me so she won’t be worrying, either.’
Adam took the platter from her and began to lay rashers in the frying pan. ‘Should you be telling me this? Perhaps the only reason you are safe with me is that I am expecting your brother to come in search of you at any moment.’
‘Now I have shocked you and so you are trying to frighten me for my own good,’ Decima said with a sigh. ‘You notice I did not say anything when we first met about who was expecting me and when—I am not completely naïve. Now I know I can trust you, so it does not matter.’
‘And if my sense of honour demands I go and confess all?’ Adam shook the pan over the heat and set it down again.
‘You wouldn’t.’ Surely he was teasing her? But the grey-green eyes were serious and steady. ‘That would be dreadful.’ To have avoided all those reluctant, horrified suitors only to find the one man she had ever found who she liked forced to offer for her—that was the stuff of nightmares. ‘I don’t want to marry you, and you certainly do not want to marry me. Promise me you will not tell Charlton.’ He shrugged and Decima came round the table hastily to grasp his wrist. ‘Please, promise, Adam.’
His other hand closed over hers. Under her fingers she could feel the beat of his pulse, hard and steady like his eyes. Then he smiled. ‘I was teasing you, Decima. I promise.’
Furious with him, she shook off his hand and whisked round the table, banging plates down to emphasise her irritation. But it was not all anger; part of it was the humiliating awareness that she had lied and would like nothing more than to be married to Adam Grantham. But only if that was what he wanted, too.
She tried to maintain a lofty silence, marching off to take the invalids their breakfast, then settling down in an affronted flounce of skirts to eat her own. After a minute she realised that Adam was watching her with a decidedly satirical twinkle in his eyes.
‘What?’ she demanded inelegantly. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘You are a very bad sulker, Decima; I can only conclude you do it rarely. My sisters are all champions at it, so I am a good judge.’
‘No, I suppose I don’t. Truth be told, I always used to spinelessly do what was required of me or just pretend horrid things were not happening. I never did anything as positive as sulking. Is it effective?’
‘It’s a game,’ Adam admitted with a grin. ‘Emily and Sally would sulk and pout and wheedle and I would pretend to be hard and uncaring and then, nine times out of ten, I would give them what they wanted. They were only practising the tricks they now play on their husbands.’
Decima chewed thoughtfully. ‘Without wanting to criticise your sisters, that seems rather…unsatisfactory. I don’t think I would want a relationship where I had to pout and wheedle to get things. I would rather discuss it and argue my case.’
‘As you do with Charlton?’ he enquired.
Decima felt herself flush. ‘As I intend to do in future, yes.’
‘Leave the dishes,’ Adam said as she began to gather them up. ‘No housework on New Year’s Day. Wrap up, and we’ll go and look at the horses.’
It was all right for men, Decima thought wryly as she went to put on her thick shawl and check on Pru. They just issued orders and the women and servants did as they were told. For a moment she was tempted to announce that she intended to sit by the fire with Pru reading all day, then she remembered what Adam had said about playing in the snow.
‘Pru, I’ll be outside if you need me,’ she called, seizing her gloves and running downstairs in her heaviest boots.
Adam was already in the stables as she made her away across the yard. She began to skirt the treacherous slick of ice where Bates had fallen, then looked at it with new eyes. Every year she and Augusta skated on the frozen mere half a mile from the house; how was this any different?
She took a run up and slid a full twelve feet, arms waving until she caught her balance. Laughing, she went into the stables to join Adam.
The clear ripple of amusement