Those at the late afternoon gathering in Lady Hester’s beloved green and plum receiving room smiled a great deal but what conversation there was consisted mostly of whispers.
Desirée sat near the fire and Adam stood beside her. The journey back from Scotland had exhausted her and he was worried about her health—and the sadness he knew she was feeling now that they were in London again.
“See how perfect this will be for soirées and salons?” Lady Hester said suddenly and rather too loudly. “There are enough of us for such an occasion right now.”
“Absolutely,” Sibyl said from the padded windowseat where she sat with Jenny and little Birdie, Lady Hester’s adopted daughter, who spent a great deal of time with the Lloyds.
Latimer and Hunter hovered near the drinks cabinet, each of them drinking Madeira, and not their first glasses.
“And what do the rest of you think?” Lady Hester demanded. Her face was strained.
“I think this entire thing is a bloody mess and Jean-Marc is a fool. Forgive me for being blunt,” Hunter said.
“Hunter,” Sibyl said. “Little ears present.”
He grunted but didn’t look particularly contrite.
“What hurts me so is that dear, sweet Meg is sufferin ’,” Jenny said. “Miss Anne came t’me and said the Count’s no’ speakin’ t’his wife. He’s no’ speakin’ at all. But we’re celebratin’ wi’ ye, Adam and Desirée. We think it’s a wonderful thing that ye’re married and so in love. Gi’ Jean-Marc a wee while and he’ll celebrate, too.”
“Before or after he calls me out?” Adam said, but he smiled to take the edge off his remark.
“Well,” Latimer said, “You’ve already got your seconds. Make it pistols, will you? Swords can make such a mess and besides, Jean-Marc is a whiz with a sword and I doubt you’ve ever touched one, Adam.”
Desirée found a handkerchief in her reticule and pressed it to her lips. She was far too pale and sad-eyed. Adam could kick himself for his careless tongue.
“I never expected to be blessed with a wife who would bring me so much pleasure,” he said, and meant it. “I’m not unaware of Jean-Marc’s disappointment. I don’t exactly bring marvelous connections to his family, but I’ll love his sister enough to make up for it, or I hope that will be enough for him.”
In the breathless pause that followed, Adam saw that every eye in the room was suspiciously moist. So much emotion made him uncomfortable.
“It will be more than enough for me,” Desirée said, “and that’s what matters in marriage. That the husband and wife find joy in each other. I did not know there could be such love.”
Sniffles were added to the moist eyes but Adam found he didn’t care. “I do love you, Desirée.”
“Damn fool, Jean-Marc,” Hunter said.
“Yes, damn fool,” Latimer said.
“Well,” Sibyl got to her feet. “He won’t get away with making my sister unhappy, I can tell you that. He’ll have to deal with me first.”
“Poor fellow,” Hunter said, pretending not to notice his wife’s narrowed eyes.
Old Coot came in and, if he’d knocked, Adam hadn’t heard. “More bad news,” the butler said, casting a gloomy look around the room. “More company. The FitzDuram fellow.”
Adam looked at Desirée and she grimaced.
“I wish Barstow were here,” Lady Hester said. “I can’t imagine why she felt she needed a holiday right now.”
“She told me she hasn’t had one for ten years,” Birdie said in her high voice. “That’s as long as I’ve been alive, Mama.”
Lady Hester beamed at the wispy child in her billow of flocked yellow muslin with yellow rosettes pinned in her unraveling ringlets. Birdie had only to say, “Mama” for Lady H. to forget the rules of polite behavior for little girls at grown-up events.
“Shall I show this other one in then?” Coot asked. “I’d better tell Cook she’ll have to put a maid or two to work and have them bring up refreshments. Cook won’t like that.”
“Thank you,” Lady Hester said. “Do show the gentleman in.”
Coot backed from the room and said, “Good riddance to that Reverend Lumpit or whatever he is. Seems to have taken himself off.”
Adam knew this was all too much for Desirée who had already received a message from Verbeux, writing on Jean-Marc’s behalf, to say she wasn’t welcome at Number 17. At the first possible excuse he’d take her to the attic where she could rest.
When Anthony FitzDuram came into the room, Adam felt a pang of sympathy. The vibrancy had gone out of the man and, although he kept a warm countenance, his eyes were empty and his shoulders sagged. He handed Desirée a box and said, “Something for a beautiful bride. Adam’s gift will be to look at it on you.”
“You aren’t the first to come up with that notion,” Adam said and winced at Desirée’s raised eyebrows.
Lady Hester chuckled, obviously pleased with herself.
The box from FitzDuram contained another box, this one of black velvet. Desirée frowned as she opened it to reveal a creamy satin lining, a bed for a delicate and exquisite parure. Pearls and diamonds, set like small flowers, had been strung together to make the necklace and bracelet. The earrings were diamond and pearl clusters with a single pearl drop.
Desirée had already been pale, now she became white to the lips. “I can’t take this,” she said. “It’s too much.”
Adam was just as glad she didn’t say that it was inappropriate.
FitzDuram accepted a glass of whiskey from Hunter and looked thoughtful. “Those belonged to my great grandmother. They came from France. When they were passed to me I was told to use them for something and someone really special. I decided your marriage to Adam, and you, were really special enough. I am happy for you to have them.”
Desirée looked to Adam questioningly. If the three of them were alone, Adam would give the valuable jewels back to FitzDuram, but with such a crowd around, he could not bring himself to embarrass the man further. He said, “Perhaps Desirée shall borrow them, then give them back when you take a wife of your own. You’ll want them then.”
“I’ll never want them,” FitzDuram said and Adam didn’t know how much more awkwardness he could allow Desirée to go through today.
Lady Hester bobbed to her feet and shook out applegreen skirts. “My first event of the year is to be a party for Adam and Desirée. It will be held within the month and I hope you will all come. Invitations will be sent out, of course.”
Sibyl looked grim and said, “A good idea, Lady Hester. I hope I may help with the planning.”
“I’d like to, as well,” Jenny said.
Lady Hester had no chance to answer before Sibyl said, “Meg will be here—she’d never get over it if she weren’t.”
Desirée turned the corners of her mouth up and said, “Anne is at Number 8, you know. I’m sad to say she’s had a difficult time while I’ve been gone. Something else I must deal with.”
Jenny leaned forward and said, “Dinna worry, Princess. We’ll take good care o’ Anne and she’ll be free to carry out her duties as your maid.”
“Princess, you appear tired,” Anthony FitzDuram said. Adam had noted how the other man’s attention remained on Desirée. “You must take care of yourself, dear lady. And please know that you have good friends to turn to should you ever be in need.”
And who, Adam wondered, should he turn to in such circumstances.
Coot returned with a letter for Adam on his salver. Adam opened the envelope and unfolded a single sheet of paper. “I understand your father is still hanging around London. Your grandmother says he’s been pestering your mother. You may be sure your father will have dire warnings about your marriage.”
Adam was already prepared for something of the sort and muttered, “I’ll be ready for him.”
The note was from Rolly who added, “I need to speak with you about Lucas. Haven’t seen him for days.”
People prepared to leave and filed out, kissing Desirée and shaking Adam’s hand. He rubbed the space between his brows and rested his other hand on the back of Desirée’s neck. “I’m going to put you to bed,” he said.
“Only if you come.”
He winked at her. “Perhaps I am a little tired, too.”
Lady Hester, clearing her throat, caught his attention. She nodded toward the door and Adam looked over his shoulder. Jean-Marc Count Etranger stood there.