Preswood Hall
June 1643
‘What are you reading?’ Robin asked.
Adam rolled over and hauled himself painfully up on the bolsters. He held up the battered leather-bound volume.
‘Joan lent me Geoffrey Clifford’s journal of his travels,’ he said. ‘I wish that I’d been able to visit even half the places Geoffrey did in his wanderings.’
Robin took the book from him and flicked through the pages. ‘You spent six years on the Continent; you must have tales of your own to tell.’
Adam’s mouth twisted into a rueful smile. ‘Several of those years were spent in Leipzig Castle. Anyway, I had no money for the indulgence of travel, Rob. I had to earn my living the only way I knew how, with my sword. What brings you up here?’
Robin shrugged and a rueful smile curled the corners of his mouth. ‘A need to escape the company of women for a while, no matter how delightful that company might be. Do you play cards?’
‘Of course. You know the rules of Penneech?’
Robin nodded. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and dealt the cards.
‘How’s the leg?’
‘I can’t put any weight on it yet, but it’s the damned ribs that hurt the most. Just don’t make me laugh.’
Robin looked up. ‘Now there’s a challenge.’
‘Speaking of the delightful company of women, do I gather it is in your interest to prolong my convalescence?’ Adam asked without meeting his brother’s eyes.
‘What do you mean?’
Adam looked up and caught the flush rising in Robin’s face. ‘A certain Elizabeth Clifford?’
Robin straightened his shoulders as if to deny the charge and then relaxed with a crooked smile. ‘Aye, there’s no doubt I fancy myself in love with the girl.’
They played in silence for a couple of minutes before Robin asked. ‘Have you ever been in love?’
Adam paused, apparently considering his hand. ‘I imagined myself in love once, but it was lust not love.’
‘Louise?’ Robin suggested.
‘Yes, Louise,’ Adam said with a heavy sigh. ‘Since then there have been women but no time for love.’
‘What really happened that night?’
Robin’s casual tone could not hide the curiosity that had probably plagued him all these years. He deserved the truth.
Adam closed his eyes. ‘I was your age, Rob and, gull that I was, fell for Louise the day that she and Denzil were betrothed. I worshipped her and she gave me every encouragement. When she summoned me to her bedchamber I went like an eager puppy, and there she was waiting for me, dressed only in a nightshift looking like a goddess.’
Robin snorted with bitter laughter. ‘I can imagine.’
‘Well you can also imagine what my thoughts were. My seduction had begun. She offered me wine and blandishments. I had stripped down to my breeches and was lying beside her on the bed when her brother burst in with sword drawn.’ Adam took a breath. ‘I had no alternative but to defend myself and I was ever the better swordsman than Philip. He ran on my sword. Louise started screaming rape and murder. She ripped her shift and scratched her own face. The rest you know.’
Robin sighed. ‘Father was summoned to deal with the mess?’
Adam closed his eyes. ‘He wouldn’t even hear my side of the story. All he saw was a beautiful woman claiming I had raped her, her brother dying in her arms. He told me I was to leave the country that night if a scandal was to be avoided and I did. I left, and by leaving confirmed my guilt.’
‘You were not the first, nor shall you be the last. Poor Denzil paid a heavy penance by marrying Louise,’ Robin observed.
Adam’s mouth twitched. ‘He went willingly, Robin.’
‘He did,’ Robin conceded. ‘And I think he still imagines he’s in love with her.’
‘They’ve no children?’
Robin shrugged. ‘No child of the marriage, but I know Denzil has at least one by-blow, so the fault must rest with Louise.’
Adam flinched. ‘Does he acknowledge the child?’
Robin looked up from his cards. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, I forgot.’
Adam shrugged. ‘It’s no matter, Robin.’
‘The child and the mother are well provided for, I believe.’
‘My one regret,’ Adam said, ‘is that I never had a chance to make my peace with our father before he died.’
Robin appeared to be considering his hand of cards. ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that once Louise’s nature became better known, father may have been more inclined to forgive you, but then we got the news that you were dead.’
The breath stopped in Adam’s throat. ‘He thought I was dead?’
‘Aye, we had word that you had fallen at,’ Robin frowned, ‘was it Vlotho?’
‘I was wounded and taken prisoner but I had no means to send word that I was alive. If you can call it that, but my captors told me they had sent word of my capture and were demanding a ransom so father must have known I still lived.’
Robin stared at him. ‘Maybe father was never told. Maybe the word came to Denzil first.’ He glanced away. ‘Maybe that was why the ransom was never paid.’
The cold, grey walls of Leipzig closed in on Adam once more. That made sense. Denzil had known his circumstances but chose neither to tell his father nor pay the ransom demanded for his release. Denzil had wanted him to die in the dungeons of Leipzig, forgotten and unmourned.
‘He must hate me very much,’ Adam said.
Robin shook his head. ‘No. It is Louise who would have had the last word. But if no ransom was paid, how were you released?’
Adam shook his head. ‘They must have wearied of me. I found myself cast out on to the streets with only the rags on my back in the middle of winter.’
Robin stared at him. ‘Then how did you get back to England?’
Adam turned his attention back to his cards. ‘That is a story for another time, Rob. Your move, I believe.’
He waited until Robin had played his cards and then said without looking up. ‘Did Father—did he—say anything when he heard of my death?’
‘No, but he shut himself in the library for days. When he did come out, he said, “He was the best of you.” and that was the last time you were ever mentioned in the house.’
Adam looked down at his hand and saw that it was shaking.
Perdita laid the paper and pens down on the table in front of Adam. ‘There you are, as requested.’
Adam picked up one of the pens and pulled a piece of paper in front of him.
‘If Denzil hears you’re on your feet...’ she began.
‘Who’s going to tell him? Robin? It suits Robin fine to have me incapacitated as long as he can. Trust me, Perdita, I have no intention of ending up in Oxford Castle.’
‘But you’ve given your parole.’
Adam smiled, a thin-lipped smile. ‘And I have every intention of honouring it. There are other ways to get myself out of this bind.’
Perdita sat down beside the window with her sewing as he wrote his letter. She watched as he filled the page with a neat, orderly hand, poured the red wax to seal it and imprinted his seal from a ring on his right hand. He sat toying with the letter, staring past Perdita to the world beyond the window.
He set the letter down and picked up his pen again, his hand straying toward the sheets of papers. Almost unconsciously a few lines began to appear under his hand.
‘What are you doing?’ Perdita asked.
‘Please don’t move, Perdita. The light from the window is framing your face and I cannot let the moment pass. Permit me.’
She blinked. ‘You can draw?’
‘Did you think Joan the only one in the family with a talent for art?’ Adam’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Although Joan has more talent in her small finger than I possess in total and I would not compare myself to her. I just find faces interest me. It proved a useful skill in Leipzig. Stay still. It won’t take long.’
He smoothed out a fresh piece of paper and sharpened the pen.
‘Am I permitted to talk?’ Perdita asked.
‘If you don’t move too much.’
‘How was it useful in Leipzig?’ she asked.
‘I took small commissions. I did likenesses of the guards, their wives, their children, and I was paid with favours. It kept me alive. It also gave me the pennies I needed to make my way back to England.’
‘Why do you find my face interesting?’ she asked.
‘I find all faces interesting. I can learn all I need about a person by looking in their eyes and the turn of their mouth.’
He fixed her with a steady gaze as if studying every inch of her face and the line of her head. Perdita watched his hand moving across the paper with the long -practiced skill.
‘You had no children with your husband?’ he asked.
Perdita started at the unexpected question. ‘No… none that lived.’ She caught at the material in her skirt, pleating it between her fingers, willing the old pain to go away. ‘I have no wish to talk about my marriage or the children that might have been. I left all that behind me in London.’
His hand had stopped and he studied her face with such disconcerting intensity that she had to look away and she said aloud the words that crowded her mind. ‘I’ve learned to live with the pain of that lost child, but it’s there, every day of my life.’
‘There will be other children,’ Adam said.
She turned to look at him, the pain jagged in her throat as she blurted out, ‘But there will always be that little ghost at my skirt.’
For a very long moment, neither of them moved. They stared at each other transfixed by the raw emotion that lay between them.
Perdita broke the eye contact and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right, though. God willing, there will be children when I wed Simon.’
He turned his attention back to the drawing. ‘When will that be?’
‘Christmas,’ she said. ‘We have decided that as soon as the campaigning ends for this year, we will be wed. Poor Simon had been so sure it would not come this far, but there we are.’
Adam set the pen down and leaned back scrutinising his work. ‘It is done. Just a quick sketch.’
‘Can I see?’ Perdita rose to her feet and Adam handed her the paper.
As she looked down at her image, a rush of conflicting emotions overcame her. She saw the same face that stared back at her each day from the mirror, but her life story was drawn in the line of the jaw and the set of her eyes. It was as if he had looked into her very soul and seen the pain of the loss of her child, the nightmare of her marriage, her loneliness and something else… something deep and frightening that involved this man.
‘Do I really look like that?’ she said with a forced laugh
‘No, Perdita, you are much more beautiful.’
She raised her gaze to meet his eyes. No man had ever told her she was beautiful or looked at her in the way he looked at her now. She saw desire and tenderness, more profound than the simple adoration she saw in Simon's eyes, reflected in the eyes of this stranger. In an instant, his face closed over. He took the paper from her, screwed it up and flung it into the fireplace where a small fire burned against the unseasonable chill.
‘Why did you do that?’ she asked.
‘It was not very good,’ he said quickly.
‘Perdita. You are needed in the kitchen.’ Bess poked her head around the door. ‘There you are. Cook has burned the chicken and there is a frightful row. Can you deal with him? I fear I shall have a saucepan thrown at me. How are you today, Captain Coulter?’
‘I am well enough, Mistress Clifford. Could I ask a favour of you?’
‘Of course,’ Bess replied.
‘Can you ask Robin to come to me?’
After Bess tripped off in search of Robin, Adam hauled himself out of the chair and limped painfully to the fireplace. The drawing he had made of Perdita had fallen just short of the smouldering embers and he bent to retrieve it. He smoothed the creases, folded it and barely had time to put it inside his jacket before Robin entered without knocking.
‘You sent for me?’ Robin gave his brother a sarcastic bow.
‘I have a favour to ask of you,’ Adam said.
Robin’s eyes narrowed. ‘What?’
‘I would be grateful if you could deliver this.’
Robin took the letter Adam held out for him. He read the name and looked up at Adam his eyes wide with surprise. ‘This is addressed to—’
‘I know to whom it is addressed,’ Adam cut across his brother. ‘He knows you, Robin. You can give it into his hand.’
Robin waved the missive. ‘I believe he is with the queen. She landed in Yorkshire some weeks ago and is on her way south to Oxford.’
Adam took a sharp intake of breath. ‘The queen? Are you certain? That means Louise is back in the country.’ As soon as Louise had Denzil’s ear, he would be a dead man. ‘Even more reason to see this letter delivered, Rob.’
‘But I’m supposed to be guarding you,’ Robin pointed out. ‘I can’t do that if I’m gallivanting off around the countryside, delivering your mail.’
‘Robin.’ Adam smiled and held out his hands. ‘Look at me, I can barely walk, let alone make a bid for freedom. I gave Denzil my parole and I intend to honour it.’
Robin raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Very well, I’ll do this boon for you, but you better be here when I get back.’
‘I will be. Thank you, Rob.’
From his window, Adam leaned against the casement and watched Robin ride away. He jerked around as the door opened with a faint click and Joan entered, carrying a leather folio and a pile of clothes, which she set down on the chest.
‘I thought you would prefer your own clothes,’ she said. ‘Robin’s taste is somewhat more flamboyant than yours.’
Adam plucked at the slashed sleeves and gilt lace of the blue jacket he wore. ‘Not quite.’
He took off the borrowed jacket, replaced it with his own serviceable uniform jacket and limped back to his chair, easing his leg back on to the stool. Behind him, Joan folded the discarded jacket and laid it on the bed. When she was done, she joined him, setting out some sketches from the folio on the table.
‘I want to know what you think of these,’ she said. ‘I intend the painting as a wedding present for Simon and Perdita.’
Adam picked up the preliminary sketches of a man and woman. Even drawn roughly in charcoal he could see without hesitation that she had drawn Simon Clifford standing behind a seated Perdita, his hand resting on her shoulder. A traditional pose but his heart clenched at the proprietary gesture. Perdita Gray would be Perdita Clifford by the end of the year.
‘You do have a wonderful talent,’ he said.
‘So do you,’ Joan said.
He looked up at the sharp edge to her tone. ‘What do you mean?’
Joan considered her drawing for a long moment, her finger resting on the still representation of Perdita. ‘I have no trouble in capturing Simon but Perdita has an elusive quality.’ Joan held out a folded, creased paper and spread it before him. ‘I found this in Robin’s jacket just now. This is your work?’
Adam looked down at the sketch he had done of Perdita. He had forgotten to retrieve it before he changed his jacket. His breath caught and he said between tight lips. ‘I was just—’
‘Adam, this is how Perdita should look for the man she loves and that man is not Simon.’
Adam crumpled the paper in his hand but he refrained from tossing it into the fireplace again. ‘What is the point in lying to you Joan when you know me so well?’
She cocked her head to one side, her mouth drooping as she laid her hand over his.
‘Is it your fate to always fall for women who belong to other men?’
He gave a bitter laugh, ‘Apparently it is.’
‘Does she know how you feel?’
Adam met his aunt’s eyes, horrified at the thought. ‘I hope not.’
‘What are you going to do?’
He extricated his hand from hers and shrugged. ‘Do? What can I do? I have nothing to offer her. Simon Clifford is a good man and he deserves her and she him. I genuinely wish them both happiness.’
Joan brushed a tear from her eye and he leaned forward taking her hands in his.
‘It is my intention to be gone from here within days and, God willing, Perdita will marry her Simon at Christmas without further thought of me. There is no more to be said on the subject.’
A relapse of fever kept Adam to his bed for the next couple of days with Ludovic in attendance. Not wishing a repeat of their last, troubling conversation, Perdita busied herself with other domestic duties.
The summer weather continued foul and rain lashed the windows, bowing the trees and masking the arrival of a large body of mounted men until they were almost upon the house. The sound of bellowed orders and the whinnying of horses brought Perdita running from the parlour where she had been mending sheets. She narrowly avoided a collision with Joan, coming out of Adam’s bed chamber.
Joan caught her arm. ‘Don’t run, Perdita. We are not being invaded. Adam says he is expecting Prince Rupert,’ her hand flew to her throat. ‘The prince himself, here at Preswood!’
Before Perdita could ask how Adam knew the king’s nephew, he had arrived on their doorstep, the great hall below them reverberating with male voices and heavy cavalry boots.
‘This way, your Highness.’ Robin's voice could be heard above the general hub bub.
Perdita peered over the bannister. A tall, dark haired, startlingly handsome young man stood framed by the great front doorway, his broad shoulders nearly spanning the width of the entrance. He scanned the room with hooded eyes while he removed his gloves and shook the soaked cloak from his shoulders.
Joan made a shooing gesture. ‘Go and greet him.’
Cursing her choice of the oldest and most worn gown she owned, Perdita hurried down the stairs to where Bess had already taken charge of the situation, sinking into a deep curtsey before the Prince, apparently untroubled by the sudden appearance of a prince and thirty hungry young men.
‘Your Highness, you are most welcome to Preswood. I trust you will be staying for some refreshment?’ Bess said.
He acknowledged her with a peremptory bow, his dark eyes sweeping across Bess from her foot to the top of her head. Apparently approving of what he saw, his dark face broke into a broad grin.
‘Thank you, Mistress Clifford.’ His voice betrayed only the slightest hint of an accent. ‘My men and I would be grateful for your hospitality, but I do not intend to intrude on you for long. My business is with one Adam Coulter. Is he here?’
Perdita and Bess exchanged quick questioning glances. ‘Captain Coulter is upstairs,’ Bess said. ‘He is recovering from a recent wound.’
‘Take me to him.’
Perdita stepped forward. ‘If you would care to come with me, your Highness.’
With Robin following, the prince took the stairs two at a time, bursting in through the open door to Adam’s bedchamber without ceremony.
‘Well, Coulter?’ he boomed.
Adam rose to his feet and inclined his head. ‘Your Highness. It is a great pleasure to see you again.’
Robin made a sound that seemed halfway between a laugh and a stifled choke.
Rupert turned to him with a smile. ‘You are surprised, Marchant? I told you, your brother and I are old comrades-in-arms. Are we not, Coulter?’ He strode across to Adam and clapped him on the shoulder with a force that caused Adam to wince.
Adam rubbed his ribs and managed a crooked smile. ‘Indeed, your highness.’
Adam was a tall man but Prince Rupert overtopped him by at least six inches.
Rupert glanced around the room and strolled over to the table where Adam and Joan had been playing chess. He picked up the king and inspected it. ‘I owe a debt to Adam Coulter and one which I am now able to repay.’
Those dark eyes did not miss the quick glance that passed between Perdita and Robin, and Rupert set the chess piece back.
‘Ah. You’re wondering, perhaps, what debt it is I owe this man who wears the colours of my uncle’s enemy?’
‘I am curious,’ Robin said.
‘Some years ago, we fought together to try to regain my brother's throne. A bold time was it not?’ He directed this enquiry at Adam, who nodded agreement. ‘Until Vlotho.’ The prince's face darkened.
‘Indeed, your Highness. Until Vlotho,’ Adam echoed.
Rupert smiled. ‘I was eighteen. The blood ran hotter than it does now.’
From what Perdita knew of this young giant’s reputation at twenty-five, it must have been positively volcanic at eighteen.
‘I would have died rather than surrender. I recall I was surrounded. My enemies demanded to know who I was. I would not tell them. I just declared my rank… ’
‘And they responded “Mein Gott, if you are a Colonel, you are a very young one”.’ Adam’s laugh cut short, his hand flying to his sore ribs.
Rupert smiled. ‘I would have been killed,’ he said, ‘had it not been for the intervention of my friend here who informed them who I was in no uncertain terms and took a musket butt on the skull for his pains.’ He looked at Adam with narrowed eyes. ‘You know, Coulter, there were many times in Leipzig when I wondered about the nature of the debt I owed you for my life. Sometimes death seemed preferable.’ He shrugged. ‘But as uncomfortable as my confinement may have been, I imagine I had it easier than you.’
The two men looked at each other with the deep understanding of men who have shared a common suffering. Perdita wondered how it would have been for a young man such as Rupert to have endured such close confinement at a time when he should have been enjoying the full fruits of his youth. If it had been hard for Adam it must have been hell on earth for Rupert.
Rupert clapped Adam on the shoulder again with a force that made Adam stagger.
‘Well, come my friend. We must talk. You,’ Rupert snapped his fingers at Perdita, ‘perhaps you will bring me some lunch. I could eat a horse.’
Rupert of the Rhine, as he was known by all, flung himself down on a chair at the table, waiting while Adam resumed his own seat.
‘So, Coulter, you have got yourself in a little trouble,’ Rupert said.
‘It would seem so.’
‘I have heard the stories. That business with your brother. Zounds, Coulter, what were you thinking when you swived Marchant’s wife?’
Adam shrugged. ‘My thoughts, if I had any, were those of any young man when presented with a willing and beautiful woman.’ And I never actually got to do any swiving, he almost added. Instead he shrugged. ‘It was seven years ago and I’m not the same person. Leipzig saw to that.’
‘Well, the lady hasn’t forgotten you.’ Rupert picked up another of the chess pieces, the queen. ‘She is lovely that lady, but dangerous.’ He glanced up at Adam with a rueful smile. ‘I doubt I would have done much different, but that doesn’t explain why, in God's name, you have taken up arms against my uncle?’ The chess piece fell back on to the board and Rupert’s fierce gaze met Adam’s, challenging the old loyalty they had to each other. The loyalty Adam had betrayed.
Adam took a breath. He didn’t need to antagonise Rupert, not now when he needed his help. ‘Because I don’t believe that your uncle can rule without the consent of the people. His decision to do so has inflicted suffering and misery on his people in untold measure.’
‘You think you know him?’ Rupert’s eyes narrowed in challenge.
‘I think he doesn’t understand his countrymen,’ Adam said carefully.
‘Coulter, the king will win this war and where will that leave you?’
Adam shrugged. ‘Much the same place I am now, I suspect.’
Rupert threw himself back in the chair and regarded him, his finger resting on his unshaven upper lip. ‘You would not consider joining me? I need men of your calibre and experience.’
Adam thought carefully before replying. ‘Your Highness, I hold you in the highest regard but I cannot turn my coat. I fight for what I believe in, not for the honour or the glory or indeed, in this matter, the money.’
Rupert shrugged. ‘A man must live with his conscience, and I will respect you for that, but I am saddened that we must find each other in opposite camps.’
‘And I, your Highness,’ Adam said with genuine feeling. Once, a long time ago, he would have followed Rupert into the pits of hell.
Rupert spread his hands. ‘Here and now, we are at truce. Old friends and comrades. What is it that you wish me to do?’
Before Adam could answer there was a gentle knock at the door and Perdita entered bearing a tray.
‘Zounds, that smells good.’ Rupert looked appreciatively at the tray laden with pasties and fruit.
His gaze ran equally appreciatively up and down Perdita and a protective pang jolted Adam. No man had the right to look at Perdita in such a way, prince or not.
‘Your Highness, may I present Mistress Gray.’
Perdita curtsied.
‘Mistress Gray is a most able nurse, your Highness. I believe I owe her my life.’
Rupert raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah well, I would that when I am so unfortunate as to be wounded in battle that I may have so attractive a nurse.’ He smiled. ‘Thank you, Mistress Gray.’
Recognising she had been dismissed, Perdita shot Adam a quick, questioning glance, before leaving the room.
Rupert devoured one of the pasties in a couple of mouthfuls. ‘A most attractive woman, Coulter,’ he said as he reached for a second.
‘Another man’s wife, or soon to be.’
Rupert raised a questioning eyebrow as pastry crumbs fell to the table in a shower. ‘Who is the fortunate man?’ he asked with his mouth full.
‘Simon Clifford. This is his house.’
Rupert brushed the crumbs from his jacket. ‘Ah yes. I have met the man. One of Northampton’s officer. Not a soldier.’ Rupert regarded him for a long moment. ‘To business. So your brother wants to see you hanged?’
‘Apparently.’
He waited while Rupert quaffed the jack of ale. He set it down as he wiped his mouth. ‘Surely my uncle would not concern himself with a mere captain of horse?’
‘I do not need to tell you that my brother’s wife has some powerful friends among the king's advisors. I have no doubt they would see my death warrant signed for the chance of a few nights in bed with her.’
A smile lit Rupert’s dark features and he laughed, throwing back his head. ‘Ah, Coulter,’ he said. ‘I would probably arrange it myself for that pleasure.’ The smile faded. ‘Now, what is it you think I can do?’
‘Release me from my parole.’
Rupert stared at him thoughtfully. ‘That is a big thing you ask of me.’
‘I wouldn’t ask it unless I knew it was within your power, your Highness.’
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well I have already given you one option. You won’t reconsider and join with me?’
Adam met his former commander’s gaze. It would be so easy to say yes and join Rupert once more, but what was at stake here was greater than the fate of a small German palatinate. He fought for his country, for his beliefs.
‘No, your Highness. My word is given.’
‘So be it.’ The prince brushed the last of the crumbs from his clothes, stood up and strode to the door in two strides. He stopped and turned once more. ‘Your brother is with the queen, only a day’s ride from Stratford. I plan to meet them there tomorrow. If I encounter him, I will intervene directly with him and tell him that you are a free man.’
‘Thank you, your Highness.’
Rupert shrugged. ‘In case I am distracted. Have you paper? I will sign a pass for you.’ He scrawled a few lines and signed it with a flourish, sealing the document with his own ring. He folded it and handed it to Adam. ‘I would advise you to depart this place as soon as possible. I cannot answer for your brother’s next actions.’
‘Thank you, your Highness.’ Adam rose to his feet and inclined his head.
At the door, Rupert glanced back. ‘The debt is paid, Coulter. If it is our misfortune to meet on the field of battle, there will be no quarter.’
‘And none expected.’
The door slammed shut behind Rupert and within ten minutes all was quiet. Adam leaned against the window casement watching the prince and his companions ride away. He blew out a breath. He had forgotten that the Prince could be an exhausting companion.
Robin peered around the door, anger tempered with confusion on his face.
‘Why didn’t tell me you knew the prince?’ he demanded as Adam gestured for him to enter.
Adam limped back to the table and handed his brother Rupert’s safe pass. ‘I didn’t want Denzil removing me to some godforsaken part of the country if he knew that I was not entirely without friends in influential places.’
Robin broke the seal, scanned the paper and paled. ‘Denzil will have apoplexy, and as for Louise, there will be hell to pay for this. Why didn’t you tell me this was what you planned.’
‘Because you wouldn’t have gone.’ Adam sank into his chair and ran a hand across his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Rob. I’ve probably brought a world of trouble down on your head.’
Robin met his eyes. ‘I can manage Denzil,’ he said, ‘but Louise…’ He shuddered and threw the paper back on the table. ‘I do know one thing. You need to get back to Warwick as soon as you can before Denzil finds out that Rupert has released you from your parole.’
‘I know.’ Adam glanced at the window where rain lashed the diamond panes. ‘If I leave now I can probably make Warwick by nightfall.’
Robin shook his head. ‘I’m not going to try and dissuade you,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what can be done about a horse.’
Perdita tied the knot on the bandage. ‘Try that,’ she said.
Adam tentatively rose to his feet, taking his weight on the bad leg that Perdita had padded and bound as firmly as she could.
‘It will do,’ he lied.
Perdita rose from her knees and crossed to the window where the rain still lashed unabated. ‘You can’t leave in this weather. You will be back in your sick bed.’
‘I appreciate your concern.’ Adam joined her at the window. His hand rested on her shoulder. ‘I’ve no choice. I have to go now or Denzil and Louise will have my neck in a noose before the week’s end.’
He was so close his breath lifted her hair. His fingers tightened on her shoulder, drawing her around to look up at him.
‘Perdita,’ he whispered.
She shivered. ‘Adam, I…’
He laid a finger on her lips. ‘Just let me look at you. I may never see you again.’
A cry of anguish stopped in her throat. Never to see him again?
‘No.’ she murmured. ‘We will meet again. We must...’ She leaned in toward him, willing him to hold her closer, to kiss her, but he drew back, swinging around to face the window at the sound of hoof beats.
‘Damn it!’ Adam cursed.
A knot of horsemen, wearing the Marchant colours rounded the bend in the drive with Denzil at their head. A woman in a scarlet riding costume, the matching feather in her hat, bedraggled and trailing down her back, rode beside him on a grey mare.
‘Who is the woman?’ Perdita asked, already knowing the answer.
‘Louise,’ Adam said, the name escaping on a breath.
Perdita turned to him and laid her hand on his chest, pushing him toward the door. ‘Go now, Adam. Robin has a horse for you. I’ll delay them.’
He shook his head, slamming his fist into the window sill. ‘I couldn’t go fast enough. However long you could delay them, I wouldn’t reach Warwick.’
Perdita balled her hand and pounded his chest in impotent despair. ‘Adam, you will lose everything if you stay. Denzil won’t let you go, no matter how many passes the prince may write.’
He curled his hand around her neck and drew her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. ‘Hush Perdita, this is not your concern.’
‘But it is,’ she said. ‘You are my concern…’
This time, her words were silenced by his lips on hers, nothing more than a quick brush as he disengaged her, holding her at arm’s length.
‘Please don’t fret on my account, Perdita. I am quite capable of looking after myself. Trust me.’ He gently pushed her away. ‘Go and greet your unexpected guests and hold them off as long as you can.’ He glanced at the bed. ‘I feel a sudden relapse coming on.’
Something like a smile twitched the corner of his mouth and Perdita nodded. She understood what needed to be done.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her collar and cuffs and prepared for battle.