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‘Why did you ride him?’
‘The poor beast needed the exercise and the grooms are all terrified of him. He is good breeding material, but not wonderful as a riding horse—at least for anyone other than Mark.’
‘You should sell him.’
‘Perhaps—and yet he is a wonderful stallion. Mark said the horse had served him well in France and deserved his time at stud. I think I shall follow my brother’s plans for him as much as possible.’
Lucy nodded, but did not answer. Her face was pale and Paul averted his eyes, refusing Timkins’s offer of support and mounting on his own. He rode with his eyes focused straight ahead, his mouth grim, clearly angry and in some discomfort, though refusing to admit it.
* * *
The little party had ridden at a steady trot and were soon back at Ravenscar. Dismounting at the front of the house, they were immediately surrounded by anxious servants with the information that Lochinvar had that moment returned riderless to his stable.
‘We were about to send out a search party, sir,’ one of the grooms said. ‘That devil wants putting down—no one is safe near it.’
‘You will do nothing of the sort,’ Paul said. ‘The fault was not Lochinvar’s. We were doing very well until...a fox spooked him.’
‘Give the poor beast a hot mash,’ Adam said. ‘And put a blanket over his back. I’ll come and rub him down later.’
‘Yes, Captain Miller.’
Adam offered to help Jenny dismount. She slid from the saddle into his arms and stood looking up at him for a moment before he let her go, a little smile on his lips. Adam turned with the intention of helping Lucy, but Paul had already performed the office for her. The two were staring at one another intently and Adam took Jenny by the arm, steering her towards the house.
‘I was on my way to warn you that you might possibly be in danger,’ Adam told her. ‘If whoever shot Mark believes you saw him leave Mark’s bedchamber, he may think you know more than you do. You must be on your guard, Jenny.’
‘The thought occurred to me last night,’ she admitted. ‘We had decided to ride this way and I meant to ask you if you thought as I did...it is most uncomfortable.’
‘This whole business is a damned outrage,’ Adam said and looked angry. ‘Do you not think it might be a good thing if you were to go away somewhere, Jenny?’
‘Lady Dawlish is thinking of taking us to Bath for a few weeks if her husband agrees. She thinks it would lift Lucy’s spirits. After all, her engagement wasn’t announced officially—though all her friends knew, of course.’
‘I see nothing wrong with a visit to Bath,’ Adam said. ‘No one could take offence at it, at least in this family. I might come down for a while myself—once things are more settled here. My uncle has taken to his room. His doctor says he is worn down and should rest. I think he cannot bear to see any of us for the moment. Hallam has gone to London to discover what he can—and Paul is angry with us all.’
‘Yes, I can imagine this must be harder for Paul than anyone. He is suddenly Ravenscar’s heir and the full weight of responsibility must be on his shoulders. He did not wish to inherit his brother’s birthright and never expected to—but he has no choice. It is a difficult thing to accustom oneself to, I should imagine.’
‘Yes, I believe it is,’ Adam said and looked thoughtful. ‘I have always known that I am my grandfather’s heir. Unfortunately, he has encumbered the estate with so much debt that I am not sure it can be recovered. For myself I should not care. Neither the title nor the estate means much to me. If I could, I would sell and forget it. I should be happy with my own small estate and the woman I loved—but that may not be open to me.’
Jenny felt her cheeks grow warm. What was he saying to her? Was he telling her that he was not free to marry where he chose, but must marry an heiress?
Was that what it had all been about in London? From the remarks she’d overheard, she’d thought him cynical and arrogant, but closer acquaintance had shown her that was untrue. Now she understood why he had been so hard to please—so angry that he found fault with every heiress in the room. He was being forced to make an advantageous marriage for the sake of his grandfather’s estate.
‘I suppose there is always one’s responsibility to the people of the estate.’ She swallowed hard, because it was difficult to find the right words.
‘Responsibility to the dependants is one thing. A good buyer could be found—one who would treat them decently and not drive them into the ground. However, my grandfather loves the house and his lands. It may be that I shall be forced to look for an heiress to set him straight. I could not allow him to lose all he holds dear while he lives. Afterwards, I would gladly sell—but for his sake...’
Why was he telling her all this? Her heart jerked, but before she could speak Lucy caught up to them and slipped her arm through Jenny’s. She squeezed her arm and began to chatter about the most inconsequential things, which told Jenny she was in some distress. Forgetting her own problems, she gave her attention to her friend and Adam walked on ahead.
* * *
For the next hour Adam and Paul entertained them; they were given refreshments, and the carriage sent for to convey them home. Timkins was to ride his horse and lead the others home, but Adam considered it unsafe for them to ride back and sent two armed grooms to accompany the carriage.
Jenny had no opportunity to be private with Adam again and did her best to keep her smile in place as she took her farewell of him, but she felt very uncertain of his feelings and her own.
‘Tell Lady Dawlish I shall call on you another day,’ Adam said as he saw them out to the waiting carriage. ‘Jenny, have a lovely time in Bath. I am persuaded Lady Dawlish will think it the safer option for you both at this time. Once she knows that rogue is still at large she may wish to remove you to Bath sooner rather than later.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jenny replied. Her face felt stiff from smiling when all she wanted to do was cry. How foolish of her! ‘Please do take care of yourself, sir—and Paul too. I fear whoever this man is, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.’
‘I have hopes that Hallam will solve the mystery in London,’ he said. ‘Remember what I told you, Jenny. Take care—and do not be alone with strangers.’
‘You need not warn me of that,’ she said and then blushed for she had accepted his offer of help when he was a stranger to her. ‘That was different...I knew who you were.’
‘Did you? I fear I did not know your name when I took you up.’
‘I—I saw you in London at a ball and asked your name,’ Jenny said. ‘It was the night that Lucy asked me to stay at her home.’
‘I see...’ Adam frowned and bowed over her hand. ‘I hope to see you again soon.’
Jenny thanked him and allowed him to hand her into the carriage. As it drew away from Ravenscar she was thoughtful, her throat tight with the tears she refused to shed.
Just how rich did Adam need his heiress to be? she wondered. She believed her own fortune was adequate rather than huge, but she was not the poor relation he thought her. If she told him the truth, would he consider making her an offer?
Oh, how shameless of her! They had met but a few times—and yet...and yet every time he came near, her heart raced and each time they met she was more certain that she liked him very well. He was exactly the kind of man she’d hoped to meet and marry one day—but would he feel the same about her? Not if he knew she had deceived him.
Her thoughts were troubled for she did not wish to be asked for in marriage just because her father’s money might save his grandfather from ruin. Jenny needed to be loved for herself. She had thought that perhaps Adam might care for her a little. Oh dear, this was nonsense. They hardly knew one another—and yet she felt as if she had known him all her life. The terrible tragedy of his cousin’s death had broken down all the polite barriers and made her feel bonded to the family, as if they were hers.
Was that what he’d been trying to tell her—that he liked her and might have thought of making her an offer if his circumstances were other than they were? He did not care for a fortune personally, but needed one to pay his grandfather’s debts.
If she told him she had Papa’s money...it still might not be enough. Mr Nodgrass had hinted that she would be well situated, but she had no idea of what she would have or how much the earl owed. It might be many times what she had—and Adam would still be unable to marry her.
Jenny’s pride made her put the idea of telling Adam from her mind. Good gracious, it might sound as if she were trying to buy him, and how shocking that would be. If he’d declared his love and then told her he could not wed her because he needed a fortune, she might have confessed that she had something. However, he had not said that he cared in so many words. To presume too much would be embarrassing. She could only keep her secret until Adam was ready to speak more plainly.
Jenny scolded herself for being too forward. Whatever was she thinking of—to assume that Adam’s feelings were much as hers, which, if truth were told, were all too warm to be sensible.
People did not fall in love so quickly—or did they?
Chapter Seven
Adam cursed Lucy Dawlish for interrupting when he was on the point of telling Jenny his situation. He was not sure how he’d meant to proceed. That he had deeper feelings for Jenny than any other lady he’d ever known was not in doubt. Her calmness and kindness had made him see what an exceptional young woman she was. He’d been aware of her sensuality from the first but she was so much more—so much that he admired.
In any other circumstances he would have wished to get to know her better, to court her a little, to discover if he liked her as well on closer acquaintance and if she liked him sufficiently to think of becoming his wife. He could not doubt the feeling between them. Adam was well aware that physical attraction meant very little. Passion could be white hot and urgent for a time and then fade away and what had been intensely interesting could become boring. His last mistress had been a greedy little thing and although she’d roused his desire at the beginning he had soon found that he did not truly like her. He thought that liking was very important if one were contemplating marriage. Romantic love would be the cherry on top of the cake if one were lucky enough to find it. Paul was certainly deep in love or lust with Lucy Dawlish, which was why he was so tortured.
Adam had never yet felt true love for a woman. He was a sensual man and enjoyed the chase when in pursuit of a pretty woman—but surely there must be so much more to marriage. Otherwise, one would end by being bored, taking a succession of mistresses and perhaps making one’s wife miserable. Adam would hate himself if he were the cause of deep unhappiness in some unfortunate lady.
It was a curst nuisance that he might have to make a marriage of convenience. Adam had done the calculations and knew that he needed the sum of twenty thousand pounds to save his grandfather’s estate. The bank was beginning to make grumbling noises and it could only be a matter of time before they called their money in. Twenty thousand pounds would pay off their loan and leave a little to spare for Adam to begin to restore the estate to at least a semblance of what it had once been.
Where was he to find such a sum? His own estate was not worth a half of that even if he sold it. He needed an heiress who would be prepared to buy herself a husband with a lump sum up front, and the promise of more to come.
Adam mentally reviewed the heiresses his friends had found for him. Only one of them actually had twenty thousand pounds at her disposal—and that was the lady with the squint. He could not recall her name for she had not registered with him, though he remembered she was the wealthiest of them all. He believed she was the daughter of a Cit, though her mother came from a good country family. Her father had no other children and was a widower.
Would he be prepared to give his daughter and her inheritance to Adam for the promise of an earldom in the future?
Why should he? Adam did not consider it a bargain worth the taking. Were he in the father’s shoes he would kick any man to kingdom come who dared to offer such a debt-ridden estate to him as the marriage price. It wasn’t to be thought of!
He was torn by the need to find a way of saving the estate and his preference for a marriage made out of liking and respect. Given his choice, he believed he might know the bride he would choose—but he had no right to court her, no right to allow her to expect an offer.
Adam acknowledged that he liked Jenny very much. Romantic love was something idiots like Byron, Shakespeare and others of their ilk wrote about, was it not? Adam did not dislike good poetry at the right moment—but flowery sonnets about love? He could only feel revolted, as young men often did. Yet now his thoughts had changed subtly. Was it possible that someone could truly die for love? Adam had felt an odd ache in his chest of late, but surely...it could not be love? The kind of love that lasted forever and was as sweet as honey and the scent of roses...
Jenny had her own perfume, unlike any he had smelled before. He found it intoxicating and wanted to bury his face in her hair—her soft warm flesh—and breathe her in, inhale her essence so that she would never leave him.
Adam laughed at himself. What a fool he was to let his thoughts run away with him. He desired Jenny, he liked her and he respected her. She made him long to sweep her into his arms and take her to his room. She was so lovely, so gentle and honest that he could imagine living with her for the rest of his life. He could see her in his house...see her surrounded by children, girls that looked like her and a boy like him.
He shook his head. Adam had no right to dream. He could not marry anyone until he had worked out what to do about his grandfather’s estate.
Was there some other way of saving it—or at least a part of it? Supposing he sold off the land and the mine, which had ceased to produce copper years ago. He might be able to save the house and park. It would mean taking out loans, which would cripple him for years, but after the old man’s death he could sell off what was left of the estate.
There was nothing he could do here for the moment. His uncle kept to his room, Paul had no use for his company and Hallam was in London. Perhaps he should go down to Cornwall and take a look at the old mine. If there should by chance be an undiscovered seam of copper they might yet find a way of saving the house and park without his having to beg an heiress for her money.
* * *
‘Your papa says that he now thinks we should go to Bath,’ Lady Dawlish announced after dinner that evening when the ladies were alone in the drawing room. ‘He thinks it unsafe for you here, Lucy—and, after what happened to Paul, who knows what might occur next? Papa will write tomorrow and secure a house for us. We shall leave in ten days and Papa will accompany us just to see us settled and then return here.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mama,’ Lucy said, her face lighting up. ‘Papa is so good to allow it.’
‘Well, he had his reservations for we should not wish others to think you uncaring, Lucy. In Bath we shall meet friends and choose our engagements wisely. Papa made a strict rule: there will be no balls or dances.’
‘I do not think I should care to attend a ball for the moment,’ Lucy told her truthfully. ‘I am mourning Mark in my own way. I do miss his friendship terribly and the way he had of teasing one. But I should enjoy the shops, the views and the theatre—which I think acceptable?’
‘Yes, I agree. Had the engagement taken place I could not have contemplated the visit, but in the circumstances I think it best for you, for otherwise you might sink into a decline and that I cannot have. And that wicked man may be lingering in the district. You were known to be close to Mark and he might have it in mind to harm you. It will be safer in Bath, dearest.’
‘It would not be fair to keep Jenny here in seclusion. She very much wishes to buy some new clothes.’
‘Oh, you must not mind me,’ Jenny said. ‘I could always ask a seamstress to call here—though I admit that I do enjoy gazing into the windows of expensive shops.’
Lady Dawlish nodded approvingly. ‘Of course you do, my love, and you must have had your fill of mourning these past months. Well, run along now, my dears. I must speak to Cook. I shall need to plan the menus in advance for your papa must not be neglected while we are from home, Lucy. If you need a little pin money, Jenny dear, you may look to me for it.’
‘I was reliant on my aunt for my clothes, but my lawyer has arranged for an allowance to be paid into a bank for me so I may buy a new wardrobe.’
‘I am glad that you will have some money of your own, Jenny dear. We none of us knew exactly how you had been left.’
‘I am not certain now, ma’am,’ Jenny said, glad of the chance to raise the subject. ‘But Mr Nodgrass says I shall be comfortable. He is to send on a copy of his accounts when they have been transcribed.’
‘That will be a blessing for you, my love,’ her kind friend said. ‘For myself I care not if you have a fortune or not a feather to fly with. We are so happy and grateful to have you with us at this sad time. I hope you will not think of leaving us too soon?’
‘Oh, no, ma’am. I should not dream of leaving you until things are more settled and Lucy is happy again.’
‘What a sweet girl you are, and just what Lucy needs at this time to keep her cheerful. Now I must get on for there is much to arrange...’
The girls left her busy with her household plans and went out into the gardens. They walked as far as the park and then found the dry trunk of a fallen tree where they could sit and look about them, enjoying the shade of the trees and the sound of birdsong.
* * *
It was there that the gentlemen found them some thirty minutes or more later.
‘Your mama thought you might have come this way,’ Paul said. ‘Adam and I have been making enquiries in the villages surrounding Ravenscar and Dawlish, in case anyone had noticed a stranger lurking about—someone who seemed to have no real business in the area.’
‘And have you found anyone?’ Jenny asked, because Lucy was deliberately staring away into the distance, as if she could not bear to look at Paul.
‘We heard that a stranger passed this way yesterday. His coach was remarked for it had a coat of arms, though, as the passer-by could not recall what it was, it does not help much. However, it seems to point to the rogue being a gentleman—by birth if not by nature.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Jenny nodded. ‘That would make sense, I think—for if there was a quarrel it would most likely be with someone Mark was accustomed to play cards with, do you not think?’
Jenny glanced at Adam, who was silent and frowning.
‘I think it must have been someone Mark did not know well,’ Paul said thoughtfully. ‘For some reason he was obliged to sit down with him, though what happened we shall never know.’
‘Unless Hallam comes up with some clues,’ Adam put in.
‘Can you not speak of anything else?’ Lucy asked, her nerves clearly fraying. ‘We are going to Bath very soon. At least there I shall have some pleasant conversation.’
She walked off as if in some distress. Jenny shot a look of apology at the two gentlemen.
‘Lucy cannot bear to talk of it,’ she explained. ‘I should not have asked. Excuse me, I must follow her.’
‘Jenny...’ Adam said as she began to walk after her friend. ‘I wanted to tell you that I am going down to my grandfather’s estate in Cornwall. I shall be gone some days—so when I see you again it will be in Bath.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Jenny fought to keep her smile in place. ‘We shall of course look forward to seeing you there. I dare say Lucy will be in a better humour by then.’
‘She is entitled to be angry,’ Paul said. ‘Mark should be alive and planning his wedding. When I catch that devil he will wish he’d never been born.’ He turned his horse and rode off as if pursued by all the demons in hell.
‘Paul, too, is out of sorts,’ Adam said. ‘I assure you he is not normally this touchy.’
He got down from his horse and stood looking at her. Jenny felt her spine tingle for the look in his eyes was so intense that it seemed to burn her. She felt her insides melting with longing and looked away.
‘I think no one could remain unaffected by what has happened,’ Jenny said. ‘It will be much better for Lucy when we are in Bath. Here she is reminded at every turn. People come every day to pay their respects and she is obliged to thank them and listen to their professions of sorrow. It is not what one needs at such times. I found the sympathy of others hard to bear after Papa died.’
‘Your father’s death was caused by a driving accident?’
‘It appeared so,’ Jenny frowned. ‘I have never been certain. I know he lost a large sum of money shortly before his death.’
‘You do not think he took his own life?’
‘No, that is not at all what I think.’ Jenny drew a deep breath. ‘I think something happened—something similar to what happened to Paul yesterday, but Papa was not so lucky. His neck was broken in the fall and he died instantly...so they tell me. I am led to believe he did not suffer.’
Jenny’s eyes had filled with tears. She blinked them away, brushing her cheeks with her hand.
‘Forgive me, I should not have asked.’
Adam came towards her, offering his hand. He touched her cheek, which must be pale, and her hands trembled. She allowed it for a moment and then flinched away.
His touch aroused feelings quite unsuitable to the situation. He meant only to comfort, she knew, but she trembled inwardly and wished that he would take her into his arms. It seemed that a fire had begun to rage inside her. She wanted to be held close to his chest, to feel the brush of his lips against her hair—if she were truthful, to be kissed. No, no, it was too foolish of her!
‘I thought I was quite over it,’ Jenny said, determined to remain calm and not disgrace herself by revealing her longings, ‘but my aunt and uncle were so practical. They accepted it was an accident and...’ She shook her head. If she told him what her uncle had done—selling all her father’s possessions unnecessarily—she would have to tell him that she was not the penniless companion he thought her. Her instinct was always to tell the truth, but she could not find the words to confess it—and it would not do to raise hopes of a fortune when she had no idea how much she actually had.
‘Tears for a loved one never hurt,’ Adam said and smiled down at her. His eyes seemed to caress her, then he bent his head and kissed her. It was a sweet gentle kiss that called the heart from her body and made her want to melt into him, to be his in every way.
‘Adam...’ she murmured. ‘I think...’
He seemed to recall himself and frowned. ‘Forgive me, I should not have done that. It was wrong of me. I had no right. I can never...’
‘Never...’ She looked up at him, trying to understand why he had withdrawn so suddenly when his body seemed to call to hers.
‘My situation is intolerable,’ Adam said and turned away, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘I am hoping I may discover some way of rescuing my grandfather from his problems. The mine played out its copper seams years ago, but perhaps some other use may be found for the land. I must see what I can do, because the alternative is unthinkable.’
‘I hope you find something,’ Jenny said. ‘It must be difficult for you.’
‘Difficult is not the word I should use.’ Adam seemed to glare down at her, clearly in some distress. ‘Excuse me, I should go after Paul before he breaks his foolish neck—and you should go to Lucy. I dare say she is in tears.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Jenny tried not to show her hurt as he remounted his horse, hardly looking at her. He had kissed her as if he meant it, but now he’d withdrawn behind a barrier of ice. She inclined her head politely. ‘I am glad to have seen you again before we leave, sir. I wish you good fortune.’