The Reluctant Suitor

  Lowering the missive, Gyles lent his consideration to his handsome wife. “Perhaps, my dear, this dispatch has been delivered to our stoop this very morning because Roger has recently become mindful of Colton’s return. In any case, he respectfully petitions us to reconsider with all possible speed his proposal of marriage to our daughter. . . .”

  Adriana’s head snapped up, and she stared at her father as if he were the one who had taken leave of his senses instead of Roger Elston. “What will you tell him?”

  “What would you have me tell him, my dear? The truth? That there’s little chance that you will accept such an offer?”

  She blushed beneath her father’s probing stare and considered her tightly entwined fingers. “I thought the last time Roger asked that it would be sufficient impediment if he knew of my betrothal to Colton. I didn’t wish to wound him unduly, Father, neither did I want to encourage him, only to soften the blow to his pride. He’d have likely taken exception to any mention of the differences in our lineage. I’m afraid, however, that he has shown himself rather foolhardy now that Colton has returned. For his own good, he must be told that I cannot possibly accept his offer of marriage.”

  Gyles probed the dark, luminous eyes that lifted to his. The girl’s chagrin was all too apparent. “What has happened to finally convince you of this need for honesty, my child?”

  Adriana brushed at the tears welling forth, far more angry at herself than she had ever imagined she had been with her father for asking her to let him be completely candid with the apprentice. “I’m afraid Roger acted unseemly toward Colton yesterday while we were at Randwulf Manor.”

  “Unseemly?” Gyles repeated, elevating a brow as he considered her tears. “How so?”

  Adriana tried to swallow the lump in her throat and made a valiant attempt to present a calm demeanor. “No matter how far-fetched it may seem now in retrospect, it became evident at the onset of their meeting that Roger bore a grudge against Colton. If not for the intervention of Leo and Aris, he would’ve likely set upon the marquess with fisticuffs right off . . . or, at least, so tried. When he finally launched an attack, it was quickly dealt with by Colton. Even hampered by a leg injury, Colton sent him flying across the room, leaving the stable hands the task of carting Roger home. Frankly, I don’t understand why Roger took such a chance. Colton has a physique very much like his father’s. At the very least, he’s half a head taller than Roger and not only heavier, but solidly made.” The colonel’s nakedness had proven that fact only too well. Never before had she imagined that the flesh over a man’s ribs could be so tautly rippled. “Only a fool or a very brave man would’ve made such an attempt, and yet Roger sought three times to keep Colton away from me. The last one he was socked across the room.”

  “He dared be so forward?” her mother whispered in horror. Receiving a disconcerted nod from her daughter, Christina turned to peruse her husband’s frowning countenance in spite of the fact that he had always been far better at reading her mind than she had his. “Gyles, dear, Adriana is right. Someone must tell the lad it’s useless for him to hope that we’ll consider his proposal of marriage. It just cannot be . . . certainly not with the betrothal contract to be honored . . . nor without it even. I know Adriana has been unwilling to destroy the young man’s hopes because of the past travails he has suffered, first estranged from his father and then orphaned as he was by his mother’s death at so young an age. As much as we can sympathize with him for what he has had to endure, ‘twould certainly seem from what Adriana has said that he has taken too much upon himself by demonstrating some claim to her, especially when he knows she’s obligated to accept Colton’s courtship. What must his lordship be thinking now that he has been set upon by the apprentice?”

  “You’re right, of course, my dear,” Gyles agreed. “The lad must be told. I shall make every effort to explain to him the necessity of our daughter marrying a man from the peerage. . . .”

  Adriana shook her head passionately. “Nay, Father, I pray you not be so direct with Roger. I fear he’ll take offense.”

  “He does seem to make much ado about his poor lot in life,” Gyles replied, trying not to scowl. Had Roger been less inclined to play upon his daughter’s sympathies, Gyles thought perhaps he may have been able to like the fellow better. It was a devious way for any man to claim attention from a lady, especially one sensitive to the hardships of others. “Nevertheless, Roger must be told that you have certain obligations and that you cannot possibly see him anymore.”

  Adriana wrung her hands. This situation was of her own making; she should never have allowed Roger to visit her at her home. It was obvious now he had mistaken her compassion for something more. “Perhaps I should be the one to tell him. After all, it was my fault that he came here in the first place.”

  “You were only being kind, dear,” her mother avouched. “You didn’t realize he’d become desirous of having you for himself.”

  “Humph! ‘Tis that stubborn whelp, Colton Wyndham, I’d like to horsewhip!” Gyles muttered sourly. “If not for his defiance, I wouldn’t have been forced to contend with all the ambitious, young cocks who think they’re doing me an enormous favor by plying for my daughter’s hand . . . as if she were some aging spinster facing a life of solitude! No doubt, young Wyndham would be astounded at the number of eligible lords I’ve had to discourage in my attempt to honor our contract with his father. If not for Sedgwick’s uncompromising belief that you’d be of great benefit to his son and he’d be just as good for you, Adriana, I’d have begged him to abandon his plans for Colton long ago. Recently I had come to believe the matter was behind us and that the young whelp would never return. But now, it all begins anew.”

  “No longer a young whelp, my dear,” Christina corrected her husband gently. “He’s a man now, more than thirty.”

  Gyles leaned back in his chair, his jaw slowly sagging in surprise. “Thirty, you say?”

  “To be precise, Father, thirty and two,” Adriana stated.

  “I was married and had a daughter on the way by the time I was his age,” Gyles declared, as if aghast at the idea that a man could ignore his duties as prime heir for so long a period of time. “By now, Wyndham should be ready to settle down and start a family.”

  Adriana clasped her arms about her knees and once again knitted her shaking fingers together. Her voice quavered almost as much. “Obviously he had been told about the contract sometime yesterday afternoon, because he was cognizant of it last night. He just mentioned the period of courtship, not the betrothal that might follow. Perhaps he wasn’t willing to consider anything more than that in light of his reluctance to return home. In any case, he asked me to give you his regards and to inform you that he’ll be sending a missive over to inquire into a suitable time for his visit.”

  Christina noticed that a brighter pink had swept into her daughter’s pale cheeks, a sure sign the girl was upset. Curiously she asked, “Has he changed much, dear?”

  Adriana tried desperately not to think of how handsome her would-be fiancé had become during his absence from home or the beauty of his long, muscular torso, which she couldn’t help but admire in retrospect. Except for places where there had been a moderate furring of dark hair across his chest, and the thin line that traced down his taut belly to the darker mass, his naked body had gleamed with the luster of warm bronze in the flickering glow of the lantern light. “More than you can imagine, Mother.”

  Christina’s hand began to tremble, so much so that she was forced to lay aside her fork. Making every effort to hide her mounting apprehension, she clenched her hands in her lap. “Has he been noticeably scarred by the war?”

  “Noticeably scarred?” Adriana repeated distantly. Though she gazed out the diamond-paned windows toward the rolling hills beyond the manse, she saw nothing but an image of the man to whom she had been promised. Lost in a tangle of thoughts, she barely moved her shoulders in a responsive shrug. “At Waterloo, he was severely wounded and, because of t
hat reason, was prevented from making a timely return.”

  “Oh, dear, I hope the wound wasn’t too dreadful,” her mother replied worriedly, imagining the worst. “Can you bear to look upon him?”

  “I must admit it wasn’t easy to remain composed.” Even now, Adriana had difficulty maintaining her aplomb when she recalled the jolt of excitement that had shot through her when she had been caught up against his steely form. Gooseflesh and weak knees were definitely a rare experience for her; she hadn’t known such exquisite sensations could be evoked merely by the pressure of a man’s body against her own . . . or the memory of that moment . . . or the one in the bathing chamber, which in recall seemed far more thrilling. She certainly had to reform her opinion on the subject of stimuli if being in a man’s embrace and seeing him naked could affect her in such diversely tempestuous degrees. After hearing Colton’s heated rejection of her so many years ago, she had remained distantly detached from would-be suitors to protect herself against the possibility of ever being wounded again, but the shock of her recent encounter with Colton had awakened sensations far different from anything she had ever experienced before.

  Fighting against visions of a hideously scarred man, Christina pressed a napkin against lips, which now trembled with her ever-mounting concerns. “As difficult a task as that?”

  “Hmmm—,” Adriana answered with a slow nod, trying not to think back upon that moment in the gallery when Colton had grinned down at her as he held her clasped against his long body. Had she been able to read his thoughts, she probably would have had cause to slap his face. The prurient glow in his eyes had seemed to warrant such a reaction from her. In the bathing chamber, the pleasure he had obviously derived from ogling her naked form had been confirmed in a most embarrassing way, yet he had seemed totally unabashed by that fact or that she had all but gawked at him. It was rather humiliating to realize in retrospect that the very one who had once rejected her years ago was also the one who had awakened her womanly desires.

  “Oh, dear,” her mother murmured apprehensively. A disfigured face was certainly no honorable excuse for terminating a contract of marriage, especially when such wounds had been gained in valiant service to one’s country. Still, imagining her beautiful young daughter entrapped in the arms of a hideous monster made her stomach convulse. From there, her concerns swiftly mounted by torturous degrees.

  Adriana struggled up from the depths of sleep and reluctantly lifted her head off the pillow, allowing her to bestow an ominous squint upon her bedchamber door from whence came an insistent rapping. Her father had left the house shortly after breakfast, and she had dragged herself back to her bedchamber to try to get some more sleep with the hope that, if she did, she would feel better. Her mother was too polite to do anything more than gently tap more than three or four times upon the portal, which seemed to leave none other than her sister, Melora, as the determined culprit.

  “Enter if you dare,” Adriana called out irritably. “Or better yet, just go away. I really don’t want to see anyone right now.”

  As she might have expected from her sibling, the door swung wide. Adriana was just in the mood to set her testy sister back upon her heels for daring to disturb her, but, much to her surprise, it was not Melora who hastened in, but Samantha, wearing a cape and bonnet.

  “What? You lazy thing, are you still slumbering at this hour of the morning?” Samantha asked in amazement. She had grown up with this particular individual and been occasionally annoyed by and even envious of Adriana’s ability to present a cheery disposition even at the crack of dawn. For once, Samantha could revel in the chance to return a sampling of all the reproaches she had received from the energetic young woman. “Shame on you. Here you are, lying abed amid your silken sheets while others are suffering in misery. Now get up and get dressed. We have some business to attend in Bradford.”

  Adriana moaned as she buried her face beneath a pillow. “I don’t feel at all well this morning,” she mumbled miserably from underneath its feathery confines. “Whatever you’re up to, you’ll have to take care of it without me. My head is aching too much for me to even contemplate leaving my bed, much less my home.”

  “Nevertheless, you’re coming,” Samantha insisted, sweeping the bedcovers off her friend as that one tried her best to burrow beneath them. “The scullery maid who was let go from Wyndham Manor last night has three young children who, according to the groom that carried her into her cottage, looked to be very much in a bad way. He said all three were terribly thin and garbed in filthy rags. As much as you may want to lie abed till a late hour, lazybones, we must go see what we can do to help those children.”

  “Who will help me if I become ill?” Adriana demanded petulantly.

  “You shouldn’t have drunk so much wine last night,” Samantha chided. “You know it always makes you sick the next day. Besides, a little fresh air will be more beneficial to you than lying abed all day. Now get up. I refuse to allow you to hide out in your bedchamber like a spineless little coward simply because my brother has returned.”

  Adriana groaned in rebellion and flopped over on her back. Squinting at the ceiling above her head, she couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony she’d suffer trying to get out of bed. “What in the world did I ever do to deserve a friend as heartless as you?”

  “Well, if you want me to start naming the reasons, we’ll be here for some time, which we don’t have,” the other woman rejoined sprightly and went to the armoire to search through the gowns it contained. “Now get washed and please hurry yourself along while you’re doing it. I don’t have all morning to stay here and listen to you whine like a pampered youngling. You’re going with me, and that’s all there is to it, so you might as well accept that as a fact, because it will do you little good to resist.”

  “Sometimes I think I hate you,” Adriana moaned dejectedly.

  “I know, but most of the time you adore the very ground I walk on.”

  “Humph!”

  Less than an hour later, the Burkes’ driver nudged the pair of lead horses of the four-in-hand close behind the boot of another conveyance parked in front of a small, shabby hut. In growing curiosity, Samantha craned her neck to peer out at the dapperly garbed driver who stood alongside. At his friendly wave, she frowned in bemusement, recognizing her family’s driver, Bentley.

  “What on earth is Colton doing here?”

  A gasp issued forth from Adriana’s throat as she sat upright, her headache forgotten. As she peered out, Bentley waved again. Her response was rather weakly conveyed with fluttering fingers before she collapsed back into her seat again. After their encounter in the bathing chamber, the last person she wanted to meet was the marquess. “Why don’t you go inside and ask him while I sit here and wait for you,” Adriana hurriedly suggested. “If Colton is already seeing to the needs of the children, then you certainly don’t need me with you.”

  “Nonsense, you’re not getting off that easily,” Samantha informed her. “You’re coming in with me even if I have to drag you.”

  “I’m sick . . . ,” Adriana complained, pressing a trembling hand to her brow. Just the idea of having to face his lordship made her stomach roll queasily; no telling what it would do if he gave her one of those confident, manly grins that seemed to have the ability to strip away whatever pride she once had.

  “Not as sick as you’re going to be if I have to send Colton out here to carry you in,” the older woman warned.

  A forlorn sigh was greatly exaggerated as Adriana bemoaned her plight. “You’re bereft of pity.”

  “Why? Because I won’t let you wallow in the maudlin mire you’ve created for yourself? I once thought you had fortitude, at least more than you’ve been evidencing since my brother returned, but obviously I was mistaken about that. You certainly don’t appear to have much backbone now. No, nary a thin thread.”

  Adriana raised her dainty chin as she took umbrage at her friend’s claim. “The way I feel right now has absolutely nothing t
o do with your brother.”

  “Good, then it isn’t going to bother you any if we go in and see what he’s about.”

  Adriana lifted her upper lip in a mutinous sneer as her friend alighted. “If you treat Percy the way you do me, all I can say is that it’s a downright miracle he hasn’t disappeared over the border to Scotland.”

  “He can’t! If you haven’t noticed lately, there’s a ball and chain attached to his ankle,” Samantha flung back as she sashayed up the rough stone walk.

  Mumbling sourly to herself, Adriana made a reluctant descent with the driver’s help and followed her companion inside the cramped, dank, sparsely furnished cottage.

  As the two women stepped through the open door of the hut, Colton turned solemnly from the cot upon which lay an ominously draped form. He managed a meager smile for his sister before his eyes moved beyond her to the slender woman who had followed. Though Adriana felt his gaze sweep her from head to foot, his inspection seemed more like a strongly ingrained propensity of the human male than anything deliberate, for his expression remained noticeably somber. Behind him, the hearth was dark, dank, and cold. Across the room stood three young children, ranging in age from two to five. Huddled together in a far corner, they stared in wide-eyed trepidation at the strangers who had entered their home. Seeing their filthy state and the thinness of their faces and bodies, Adriana forgot her own misery as her heart went out to them.

  “I’m glad you’re both here,” Colton acknowledged in a muted tone.

  Samantha dragged her gaze away from the morbid shape shrouded by a badly frayed quilt and lifted a silent inquiry to her brother. He nodded, affirming her suspicions that the mother of the children was dead.

  “Obviously she died shortly after she was brought here,” he explained in a muted tone. “She was stiff and cold when I arrived. I can’t imagine how she could’ve consumed so much brandy, but she obviously did, at least enough to kill her.”

  Once again, his eyes shifted to Adriana. In spite of the gloomy circumstances of the moment, he seemed once again naturally disposed to look her over from pert bonnet to small, neatly slippered feet.