The Louise Allen Collection. Louise Allen
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He was jolted out of his thoughts by Decima. ‘You are in a very strange mood today, Adam.’ She sounded less angry than exasperated with him; he supposed he deserved that. Goodness knew what she made of all this. ‘Promise me you will not jilt poor Olivia.’
‘Do you really think I would do such a thing?’ It hurt, he found, to have her believe he might. What would she say when she discovered what he was planning to do? God, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her—just hold her, so he could smell that elusive jasmine scent, feel her soft warmth against him. He reached out a hand and caught hers. For a moment she resisted him, then allowed him to lead her to the sofa.
‘No…no I don’t, except that when you act so strangely, I don’t understand you at all.’ She hesitated, looking down at their clasped hands, then gently pulled her own free. ‘Do you love her?’
‘No.’ He could not lie to her about that. ‘No. It is time I married; you heard the views of my family on the subject. Love is not expected when persons of our class wed. You must continue to encourage Bates and Pru if you want to witness a love match.’ He had hoped to distract her by talking of the two servants, but she made a little gesture as though to brush that aside and raised troubled eyes to his.
‘You will be kind to her though, won’t you? Olivia has not had much affection in her life, I think.’ She caught his hand in hers again, apparently unconscious of anything but the need to impress upon him the importance of what she was saying. Adam tightened his fingers around hers, feeling the beat of her pulse. It seemed to enter his body, take possession of his own heartbeat.
She turned her face up to his, searching his expression as though to read the truth in it. Adam fought the urge to simply catch her in his arms and kiss her until she understood how he felt for her. But he had fallen into that trap already, consoling Olivia—there was too much at risk now to dare revealing the slightest hint of his feelings for Decima. She was so close his senses were full of her, of the warm scent of her skin, of the touch of her breath on his skin.
‘Decima, I promise I will do everything in my power to make things better for Olivia than they are now.’
‘Thank you,’ she said simply and he placed his other hand over hers, trapping it between both of his. ‘Adam—’
The door behind them opened abruptly, swinging back on its hinges. Decima started, instinctively reaching for Adam’s lapel with her free hand and he, equally instinctively, turned to shelter her body with his.
Lord Carmichael stood on the threshold, his face red with outrage. Behind him there was a glimpse of the butler and a flurry of skirts, but no one was going to pass Charlton.
‘How dare you, my lord! Decima, come here this instant! I can hardly believe my eyes, to find you here, unchaperoned, alone with a man, behaving like the veriest trollop—’
He did not finish the sentence. Adam had heard the expression ‘to see red’ and had believed it to be merely that, an expression. Now he found, viewing Charlton Carmichael through a blood haze, that it was simple description. He got to his feet, clenched a serviceable right fist and hit the furious baron squarely on the jaw.
Charlton fell back, collided with Starling and the two of them crashed to the floor of the hall, narrowly missing Pru, who jumped back with a squeal of alarm.
‘Charlton!’ Decima tried to push past Adam to where her brother lay sprawled on the floor, blood coming from his mouth, which was opening and closing like that of a landed carp. Beyond him Pru was helping Starling to his feet, only to be pushed away by the outraged butler.
‘Stay there, Miss Ross,’ Adam said curtly. He strode forward, took Charlton by the arm and dragged him to his feet and into the drawing room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Charlton began to gobble with fury as Adam swung round to face him. ‘I am sure Miss Ross can do without being further exposed to the impertinent stares of the servants.’
‘How dare you!’ Charlton dug in his pocket and produced a vast white handkerchief, which he clapped to his face. Decima realised his nose had begun to bleed. ‘I find you ravishing my sister and you have the gall to assault me, sir! I will have the law upon you—’
‘For defending the good name of a lady who had just been grievously slandered? I will not repeat the phrase that you used to blacken Miss Ross’s character, Lord Carmichael, but no gentleman could stand by and hear a lady so insulted.’
‘I am her brother, damn you!’
‘Then you should be even more sensitive to the lady’s honour, and I would further remind you that she is still present and ask you to moderate your language.’
Adam was managing to sound quite ridiculously pompous, Decima realised, marvelling that he could turn the compromising situation around so that it seemed Charlton was in the wrong. But this was a nightmare—at any moment the Freshfords could return, doubtless half the household was already gathered in the hall, and, idiot though he was, Charlton was her brother.
‘Naturally, it is regrettable that Miss Ross’s attendant should have stepped outside the room for a moment—’
‘Moment? Moment?’ Charlton’s voice was thickening with his nosebleed. ‘My sister was unchaperoned, left alone with a rake! I will see that feckless slut of a so-called maidservant dismissed without a character—’
‘You will do no such thing!’ Decima interjected hotly. Neither man paid her the slightest attention.
‘Are you calling me a rake, Lord Carmichael?’ Adam enquired dangerously. ‘I can hardly call you out over remarks made to your own sister, tempting though it is, but I will have no hesitation in doing so if you blacken my character. Name your friends, my lord.’
‘No!’ Decima pushed past Adam and stood between the two men, unsure which of them was making her the more angry, or why, under the anger, she was feeling quite so excited and disturbed. ‘Stop it, both of you! Charlton, there was not the slightest impropriety in what you just witnessed. Lord Weston, I am in no need of your protection from my own brother, I thank you. I think you should leave. Now.’
From outside the door she could hear the sound of new arrivals on the scene. Starling’s voice was quivering with outrage, she was aware of Pru’s indignant tones and over it all Henry’s firm voice demanding to know what the devil was going on in his front hall.
Decima took a deep breath, stepped around Charlton and threw the door open. Embarrassing though this was, it was better than the risk that it would all end in a fight, either here or on the duelling ground. Under other circumstances Henry’s stunned expression would have been amusing.
‘Sir Henry,’ she said, cutting across all three men, ‘there has been a regrettable misunderstanding. My brother requires some medical attention. Lord Weston is just leaving.’
Adam was regarding her with dangerously slitted eyes. ‘I have no intention—’
‘Of staying, yes, I know, excellent.’ She stared back, willing herself to meet his eyes and not to show any of the emotions that were churning inside her. ‘Please give my regards to Miss Channing. I believe Starling has your hat, my lord.’
There was a long, dangerous silence, then Adam turned to Sir Henry and said, ‘I apologise for being the cause