An Unexpected Gentleman (24 page)

“Yes.” Connor smiled ruefully as the carriage came to a stop. “What fine timing.”

Poor timing or not, Adelaide was suddenly eager, even anxious, to greet the next stage of her adventure. This was, without question, the most wonderfully exciting day she’d had in years. Pushing herself off Connor—who objected with a mild grunt—she threw the carriage door open and hopped down without assistance.

“Where are we?”

“About a half mile past the border,” Connor replied, following her. “Or, if you prefer, slightly more than twenty miles from your home.”

Her smile was slow, and matched a growing warmth in her chest. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.” He gestured at the scenery. “What do you make of it?”

“It’s . . .” She looked away and took in the rolling hills and fertile farmland broken by dark stands of woods. A delighted bubble of laughter filled her throat. “It’s the same. Entirely the same.”

“But it’s England.”

“Yes, it’s England.” It was new. It was more than twenty miles from her home. It was something she’d wanted and nothing like what she’d expected. It was brilliant.

C
onnor unpacked what was, to Adelaide, a perfect feast. Chicken and lamb, fresh bread and potatoes. There was watered beer, wine in a carafe, and apple slices for dessert. All were spread on a blanket, and in short order, she and Connor were sharing a meal on a gentle hill that overlooked the English countryside.

“What will you do with that fifteen thousand pounds?” Connor asked conversationally. He was reclining on his side, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his weight propped up on his elbow. The prone position ought to have made him seem less substantial, but to Adelaide, he looked like a Titan in repose.

“Find a nanny for George, to start,” she replied. “Perhaps even a tutor. I fear he is behind in his education.”

“He’s two.”

“Almost,” she corrected and shrugged. “His vocabulary is not what it should be, I think. Isobel and I have tried—”

“He’s a fine boy,” Connor cut in, his authoritative tone suggesting she not argue. “A sharp lad. And he’s fortunate to have you. Did something happen to make you think otherwise? Did someone say—?”

“No,” she said softly. Sir Robert was the only person to have disparaged either of them, and his opinion mattered not a jot. Connor’s quick defense, on the other hand, meant quite a lot. More than the money and Ashbury House. Those were necessities. If he wanted her for a wife, he had to provide them. But faith in her and an affection for George—those were things he gave by choice.

Oh, yes, she thought, there was something redeeming in the man before her. And perhaps there was something to be made from their union.

“Adelaide?”

Connor’s voice brought her back to the moment. “I worry, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t. Tell me what else you’ll do when you’re wealthy.”

“Well . . .” She frowned absently. “Isobel needs new gowns, as do I. Our home could do with a new roof, and doors, and—”

“You’re speaking of the small again, the mundane.”

“They’re not mundane to me,” she muttered, feeling a little put out.

“Those are things you need. What do you want?”

“I want the things I need.”

“But now you can want more. Be imaginative,” he insisted. “What will you do when your responsibilities are met? You’ll have thousands of pounds left. What will you do with them? And do not tell me you plan to put every penny into savings.”

“Not every penny,” she grumbled.

“Creative, Adelaide. Try—”

“I should like to take George shopping,” she cut in, surprising herself. She’d not realized until that moment how much she wanted the chance to spoil her nephew. Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely to shower him with toys and treats? Evidently, Connor didn’t think so. He looked a bit pained at the idea.

“What?” she demanded. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Most boys aren’t fond of spending time in shops with their aunts.”

“They are when they’re shops like Mr. Fenwick’s bakery,” she replied smartly. “I’ll let him buy anything he wants. Everything he wants. All he’ll need to do is point his finger. And I’ll not make him save the treats either. He may eat whatever he likes.”

“He’ll make himself sick, a boy that age.”

“Much you know of it. You thought he could be bribed with a bit of flattery. George has the constitution of a bull. He’ll tire out before he can do himself harm.” She could picture him now, sticky with sugar and fast asleep on the pile of new toys she intended to buy him.

“What else?”

Warming to the exercise, she grinned and reached for a slice of apple. “I’ll take Isobel to the bookseller’s. She has a great love for the written word. And she’ll have new watercolors and brushes. The finest to be found in town.”

“You could have finer delivered from Edinburgh or London.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. She can use the ones from Banfries until they arrive.”

“And then what will you do?”

And then . . . Well, then it was Wolfgang’s turn, wasn’t it?

“I’ll pay Wolfgang’s debts, of course, and . . .” She wasn’t sure what came after that. She wasn’t sure there was anything that could be done for her brother.

“You won’t be paying your brother’s debts,” Connor said. “That’s for me to handle, and I am doing so.”

“You are? But—”

“Sir Robert is one of the creditors. I won’t have you dealing with him.” He gave her a hard look. “The matter is not up for debate.”

“Far be it from me to keep you from spending your own money on my brother’s debts.” She wasn’t a compete twit, for heaven’s sake. “I was only wondering . . . How long will it take to free him, do you think?”

“Sir Robert will try to make things challenging, I imagine. But there’s only so much he can do. Another day or two, no more.”

“Oh.” She bobbed her head but couldn’t force herself to take a bite of her apple. Her appetite was greatly diminished.

Connor dipped his head to catch her eye. “What is it?”

“Would . . . would you think less of me if I told you I am not eager to have him home?”

“No, a shared parentage does not always guarantee affection. I should know.”

“It is not the same as with you and Sir Robert. You never really knew your brother.” To her way of thinking, Sir Robert had betrayed blood but not family. “You certainly never loved him.”

“No. I never did.” He paused as if picking his words carefully. “Would you like me to wait to pay Wolfgang’s debts? There are excuses—”

“No. No, of course not. I don’t want him to rot away in prison.” But neither did she want his animosity to rot away the first bit of happiness the family had found in years. “Perhaps a commission could be purchased for him.”

Connor shook his head. “I offered. He declined.”

Adelaide’s mouth fell open. That Wolfgang should not take advantage of the opportunity was disappointing, but hardly shocking. That Wolfgang had been offered the opportunity without her knowledge was astonishing.

“You went to see him? You spoke with him?”

“We had a discussion, of sorts, yesterday. I offered to buy him a commission, and he sent his regrets by missive today. He was decidedly unimpressed by my visit and my offer.”

Adelaide grimaced, imagining the kind of insults her eternally ungrateful brother had likely tossed about. “You should not have gone to the prison without me.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, Mother.”

She sighed and wished she could pace. “I didn’t intend that as a scolding. But you’ve already taken on the responsibility of Wolfgang’s debts. You shouldn’t be saddled with his anger as well.”

All signs of humor fled from his face. “That’s for you to carry?”

“I’d just as soon not,” she assured him. “I only wish . . . I don’t know how to help him. I’ve tried everything, but somehow . . . I so often make mistakes.”

Connor set down a glass of wine and looked at her with a kind of impatient puzzlement. “How can such a capable woman have so little appreciation for her own worth?”

“I’ve appreciation. But I’ve . . . I have no training for this.” She shook her head, frustrated that she couldn’t find the words to make him understand. “It was always assumed I would either marry a gentleman of modest means or remain a spinster with a modest income. My mother saw that I was given the skills necessary to thrive in those conditions. I know how to needlepoint and paint in watercolors and organize a dinner party. But I know nothing of business or how to keep a reckless brother
out
of business. I was never taught how to be the head of a household.”

“And yet you’ve filled the role admirably for a number of years.”

She’d filled it, at any rate. “I don’t know that I’ve done it admirably. I . . .” She took a breath, surprised at what she was about to admit. “I’ve been resentful of the responsibility.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Connor asked, his impatience clearly outpacing his confusion. “No one wants to be made captain of a sinking ship.”

She frowned a little, not sure if she cared for the analogy. “I don’t know that we were sinking, exactly . . . Yes, all right, we were sinking.”

“And though you weren’t trained as an officer, you have nonetheless succeeded in pulling yourself, your sister, and your nephew off the boat and onto solid ground.” He wiggled his finger in the general vicinity of his chest. “Fertile ground, if I may say so. A veritable paradise. An Eden beyond the wildest imaginations—”

“Yes,” she cut in, laughing softly. “I get the general idea.”

“Good.” Connor reached for his wine again. “Don’t discount what you’ve accomplished, Adelaide. It’s not your fault Wolfgang refuses to abandon ship.”

A small part of her wondered how much she had actually accomplished and how much had simply fallen in her lap. But most of her wanted to believe in what Connor said.

“Perhaps you’re right.” She took a small bite of her forgotten apple. “Perhaps I will enjoy being captain of Ashbury house.”

“She’s a worthy vessel. But I’m afraid she already has a captain.”

“You?” She thought about that, then shrugged. “Very well, then. Admiral Ward has a nice ring about it anyway.”

“Admiral Brice sounds even better.”

“Too late, you already chose the rank of captain.”

“It will still be Admiral Brice, Mrs. Brice.”

“Oh. Right.” That was going to take some getting used to.

“And I shall be Supreme Grand Admiral of the Fleet.”

“You can’t . . .” She burst out laughing. “That is not a real rank.”

He plucked the apple from her fingers. “It will be once I’m emperor. Do you know, I believe I’ll raise your George as my successor. It might be wise for me to have an ally about when you begin your campaign for revenge. You do still plan on making my life a living hell?”

She pretended to reflect on the matter. “I think . . . Not
every
aspect of your life. Not the parts we are to share as husband and wife. I wouldn’t want to bring hell down on my own head.”

“Trust me, love, there is no sweeter place to raise a little hell than in the parts we are to share as husband and—”

“That is
not
what I meant.”

“I know. It wouldn’t have been half as amusing if you had.” He appeared singularly unimpressed with her withering glare. “So, what should I be expecting, exactly? The occasional pocket of hell? Small projectiles of damnation?”

She stole the apple back with a smug smile. “You will have to wait and see.”

 

C
onnor studied Adelaide’s face carefully. She was smiling and laughing now, but the shadows under her eyes persisted. The one on the right blended seamlessly into the healing bruise on her cheekbone, and both were in sharp contrast to skin that had been leached of color by worry and exhaustion.

He hated seeing it. He hated having to wait to do anything about it.

An image of Gregory’s wooden carving entered his mind. Quietly brave, that’s how he’d once seen her. Stubbornly courageous seemed a more accurate description now. Courageously stubborn was even better. Resentful or not, she was accustomed to having the final word in anything and everything that touched the Ward household. She was (and would no doubt continue to be) unyielding in her defense of that duty, in her right to retain both the pleasure and weight of leadership.

It wasn’t his intention to take the first away from her, but she’d have to learn to share the latter. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while his wife bowed lower and lower under the burden of her own family.

They’d be his family too, soon enough.

Sooner, if the extra pounds he’d passed on to his solicitor had anything to say about it.

Connor watched as Adelaide popped the last bite of apple in her mouth and reached for another slice. It had been a very long time since he’d been part of a family—a traditional one. He had Michael and Gregory, but the bonds that held him and his men together were not the same as those that came with marriage, and neither were the expectations.