“By now Meg and Jean-Marc will have missed you. I insist you return home and put their minds at ease.” Also, Adam acknowledged, not a single feeling he had for Desirée was brotherly, or even friendlike at that moment. For both of their sakes he’d do well to separate himself from her before he lost his mind and did some of the things he wanted to do. “Take my arm at once. I’ll accompany you to your carriage.”
Desirée blinked and moisture glistened on her eyelashes. The odd snowflake settled on her nose and high cheekbones—and her mouth—like butterfly kisses.
“I’m sorry for annoying you, Adam,” she said, bowing her head and slipping a hand beneath his elbow. “You know I would never wish to do so. I’m so impulsive, that’s all.”
He barely contained a groan. How was he supposed to concentrate on making her like him less—not much less, just a little—when she could be so adorable? And, even more so, how would he ever find a way to meet her, to smile at her and relish her company rather than seeing her, dancing naked, in his very soul? She thought she knew so much, yet she knew nothing, and this creature was not for the likes of him.
“Adam?”
He’d been staring toward Hyde Park Corner, looking at but not really seeing the tearing about of young bucks, their tomfoolery in the snow, the outrageous spectacle of a man swathed in white furs and whipping on the poor devil of a horse who pulled him in a canary yellow phaeton.
“I shall go to Hatchards and find a new novel I’ve heard a great deal about,” Desirée said. “Don’t trouble yourself further about me. I am quite safe, I assure you. Apparently my attempts to appear ordinary work well, even if they do offend you. I may even visit the Burlington Arcade—I have never been there. Later I shall bring some special treats for Halibut.”
Something like traveling fire made a rapid path from his most sensitive places to his head and he felt himself color. “You could wear a coal sack, Your Highness, thrice used both right side and inside out and still you would turn the head of any man of taste.” Any man capable of seeing beauty within, as well as without—and intellect gentled by innocence Adam didn’t believe even carnal knowledge would destroy. “You are a gently bred girl and the Arcade is a…You will not go there and you will never mention it to me again.”
She had begun to remove her hand from his arm. They frowned into each other’s faces and he adjusted her fingers to curl inside his elbow once more. “Oh, very well, pout if you must. You think I have no right to tell you what to do and you are correct. So, a compromise? Can the novel wait another day or so? I will ask Jean-Marc and Meg if I can take you there when I have an errand of my own.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy. “That would be kind, thank you.”
“Good. Then let’s away to the King’s Arms at once.”
“Of course, thank you, Adam.”
Could being polite cause death? He almost smiled at the thought. “Be careful on the cobbles,” he told her, leading her carefully into the street. Yes, dammit, one or two more “thank you’s” and he might have to swallow his tongue to stop himself from howling with frustration. That would undoubtedly choke him.
“Hold on, tight,” he said, grinning openly. He did believe he was losing his mind over a slip of a woman who should make him a better sister or cousin than…lover.
The grin felt fixed but wouldn’t entirely die.
He handed her onto the opposite curb, touching her lightly at the waist as he did so. And muscles in his spine tightened. I don’t want to be polite, I want to take her to my bed. The words cried out so loudly in his head they shook him for fear she must hear them.
“Good day to you, Mr. Chillworth.”
A French accent; a man’s deep voice addressing him familiarly, fleetingly disoriented Adam. M. Verbeux, who was settled at Number 17 Mayfair Square as Jean-Marc’s valet and confidant once more and who was treated with respect in that household, stood in Adam and Desirée’s path.
“Morning to you, Verbeux,” Adam said. “Wretched weather.”
“You forget that I have lived most of my life in Mont Nuages. We should all be bereft without our snow. Good morning, Princess.”
Desirée’s fingertips and thumb had come together on the underside of Adam’s arm and even through the thick material of his coat he felt his skin pinched. She muttered something meaningless to Verbeux.
“But of course, Your Highness,” the man said, “I happened to be in this area when I noticed you.”
Adam felt sorry for the fellow. He was a poor liar—at least on this occasion.
“Has my brother asked you to spy on me?” Desirée demanded. “We both know you didn’t simply happen to be here. You were following me.”
Verbeux, lithe, his hair, mustache and beard dark, as were his arresting eyes behind small wire-rimmed spectacles, actually seemed uncomfortable, a rare occurrence in one who was supremely sure of himself.
“I take my responsibilities seriously,” Verbeux said and Adam glanced at Desirée to gauge her reaction to this exceedingly handsome man.
“You have no responsibilities where I am concerned,” she told him.
He inclined his head and smiled just a little. “Your father released me from his service so that I might protect you on the journey back to England. Now that I am once more in the Count’s employ, it remains my responsibility to ensure that you are safe. Your brother cares deeply for you.”
“Bosh,” Desirée said without grace. “He doesn’t want to be bothered with me so he has you follow me around and meddle in my business.”
“Meddling has nothing to do with it,” Verbeux said. “My task is to make sure that a vulnerable and unworldly young woman doesn’t get into trouble from which she cannot easily be extricated. You do not need to be told that your impeccable reputation must be safeguarded at all costs. Soon you will be the center of attention among the most eligible men in England, and from elsewhere. There can be no question about your…no questions at all about you. Going about alone like this is out of the question.”
“That is an outrage!” Desirée’s face turned very pink. “You have been told to spy on me. Aren’t you going to say anything, Adam? This is cruel, harsh, this attempt to curb my sense of adventure.”
Adam felt obliged to speak even though he didn’t consider it his place. “You are a special woman,” he told Desirée. “And, contrary to your beliefs, wearing rude clothing makes you no less outstanding. I for one am grateful your impulsiveness is kept in check.”
“Are you? What wrong have I ever done through being impulsive? None, I tell you. Goodbye, both of you, I must get back.”
“I have a carriage,” Verbeux said.
“So do I,” Desirée told him.
Verbeux gave an extravagant shrug. “Then I’ll have your carriage sent on.”
“You will not send my carriage on without me,” Desirée told Verbeux. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t leave poor Anne to return alone.”
Verbeux looked blank. “Where is Miss Williams, Chillworth?” he asked with an accusing note in his voice.
“How did you know to look for me here?” Desirée asked. “You didn’t know I came by my own carriage and you didn’t know Anne was with me, so you couldn’t have followed me.”
Adam regarded her with admiration. He’d been too preoccupied to think of the questions Desirée had been so quick to ask.
“I answer to the Count,” Verbeux said. “How I knew to look for you here is of no consequence. No need to remain, Chillworth. I will accompany the Princess now.”
Even if he were inclined to allow Verbeux to brush him off, which he was not, one desperate plea from Desirée’s eyes was enough to make sure Adam refused to leave her.
“Desirée has kindly offered to give me a lift back to Mayfair Square. She has taken pity on me in this vicious weather. Excuse us, please, I’m sure you’ll want to get on.”
Verbeux’s expression closed. He raised his hat to Desirée and turned expressionless eyes on Adam. “I will inform the Count that his sister is in safe hands.” He turned on his heel and strode smoothly away.
“Odd fellow,” Adam said and added without thinking, “Why did he really leave Mont Nuages?”
Desirée hesitated then said softly, “He did marry Lady Upworth.”
It was impossible to listen to this girl, to watch the way she formed words, and not be mesmerized. “Aye, that’s what we all expected. I don’t see the connection to his coming back to England.”
“Ila was increasing. She became ill during childbirth and did not recover. He really loved her.” She tapped his chest absentmindedly. “It wouldn’t do to mention Ila. He will not speak of her.”
Adam breathed deeply and looked to the heavy sky, blinking against the snow. “Probably blames himself.” This was an unsuitable direction in which to take the conversation. “Because she wasn’t in England,” he added, hoping to deflect more discussion of the responsibility some men felt when a woman died of some condition while carrying their children.
Desirée looked as if she saw something distressing in her mind. “I know a good deal about it all, you know,” she told him. “Since a woman does not increase without a man’s help, I suppose he could feel responsible. Imagine being loved that much.”
“I find that easy to imagine.” And even the thought of Desirée suffering, as Adam had seen women suffer in giving birth, with his child overwhelmed him with protective, with loving, with terrified feelings. “I should never recover from the tragedy.”
Desirée bowed her head.
“I forget myself. You should not be burdened with such things. I will take you home.”
Rather than start to move, Desirée raised her face and watched him with something approaching ecstasy. “What is it?” he asked her.
“You will take me at home, Adam?”
He frowned at her. Her English was perfect yet she sometimes constructed her sentences strangely. “Of course. You must be frozen and I am remiss. Quickly, let’s go to your carriage.”
She remained still, and she blushed furiously, laughed awkwardly. “Yes,” she said. “Foolish of me. Perhaps I do not always hear well.”
He didn’t understand what she meant, but decided it didn’t matter.
Side-by-side they hurried to the yard of the King’s Arms where Desirée’s carriage was the first they saw. Anne Williams sat inside, peering anxiously through a space she’d rubbed on the inside of a steamed window. The coachman, Barnes, stood with several other coachmen. They all stamped their feet and guffawed loudly.
Adam put an arm around Desirée and all but swept her off her feet in his haste.
“When will you visit Manthy House?” she asked when he least expected the question. “Your mother is a charming woman, generous and kind and she obviously loves you very much.”
Beside the coach, Adam pulled her to a stop and swung her to face him. Lowering his head he looked closely into her face and said, “You know nothing of my mother, or my life when I was growing up. Things are rarely as they appear to be.”
“No.” Her voice was high and her eyes wide.
“Remember that and never mention my mother to me again.”
“Yes.”
“Barnes,” he called. “If you can be spared we should enjoy your services.” He slammed the coach door open and didn’t bother with the steps. Bundling Desirée inside and following her, he managed a smile for Anne whose surprise was obvious.
The instant Desirée landed on the seat beside her companion, she pulled herself into a corner, straightened her back, and told him, “Men have died for their pride. They have also broken hearts for the same silliness. You may be impressive with your brutish force and slicing tongue but I, for one, am unimpressed.”
He opened his mouth to speak. “Do not argue with me, my good man,” she cut him off. “Sit there quietly and consider your outrageous behavior—how you beat down your own mother with unkind words, meanly spoken.”
“I have warned you,” Adam said, his gut tight, “do not interfere. And unless my ears deceived me, only moments have passed since you agreed to do as I ask.”
“I have changed my mind.” Desirée shifted to the front of her seat and her knees touched his in the confines of the coach. “That would be since you threw me into my own coach. And if I do not obey you, what will you do to me?”
She had him there, dammit. But he would find a way to divert her.
“You will do nothing to me,” she said and suddenly her eyes misted, “because…you know why, you foolish man. Remember one thing if you remember nothing else. Your decisions do not hurt only you, and the heart you break becomes yours to bear.”
He glanced at Anne who was white-faced and evidently close to tears herself.
“Desirée,” he said quietly. “Our fates are not in our own hands.”
“Posh,” she said without conviction. “Some may simply accept disappointment, I am not one of them. It will be my job to do all I can to make you see how love overcomes any barrier.” She turned pink again. “I will do my best to help you put whatever you have against your mother behind you.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she closed her eyes as if closing the conversation. Very well, let her use any trick that pleased her, and any attempt to cover the true meaning of what she’d said.
Adam did not believe this woman he’d loved for four years, and felt guilty for loving, spoke only of barriers to a love between mother and son.
God help him to do what ought to be done without crushing Desirée—or turning himself into a disappointed man doomed to hunger for her the rest of his life.