After...
He is always right who
suspects that he makes mistakes.
— Spanish Proverb
Adam opened his eyes slowly, carefully, aware that he was not alone in his bedchamber. As his valet never entered until he was summoned, Adam’s heart leapt for a moment, believing that Sherry might have come to him.
Which was ridiculous. Sherry was gone. Gone from this chamber, gone from his life even as she physically remained in this house. He’d made certain of that with his blind, bullheaded stupidity.
“Who’s there?” he asked, sitting up, then grabbing at his head, which was definitely in danger of falling off. When would he learn that drinking half the night away did nothing more than destroy half a morning?
“Took a mighty fall off the water wagon, did you then, boyo?” Chollie asked from somewhere in the chamber—there, there he is, Adam decided, as his bleary eyes made out the shape of his friend, sitting in a leather chair beside the fire. “You could have at least sent round a note, saying you weren’t going to meet Edmund and me for dinner last night. Bloody bad manners, I say.”
“So would I, Chollie,” Adam agreed, slowly slipping his legs off the side of the bed, realizing that he was still clad in his shirt and pantaloons. “My apologies to you both. As I’m sure you’ll apologize for breaking into my bedchamber.”
“You’d have a long wait believing that, boyo,” Chollie said, standing up and going to give the bellpull a hearty tug. “I’ve ordered up a bracing breakfast for you. I had mine already. With Geoff and Edmund. And it’s a funny thing about that, you know. Nobody told me Geoff had been injured. Now why, do you suppose, hadn’t I heard that?”
Adam scrubbed at his face with both hands, feeling the roughness of his beard, then all but grinding the grit of sleep from his eyes. “Hell’s bells, Chollie, give me a moment, will you? I think something crawled inside my head and died there.”
“According to that new butler of yours—I don’t much like him, by the way—a mighty measure of brandy found its way inside your skull. You’ve never been a drinking man, boyo, much is the pity, so you probably don’t know brandy’s the very devil on the head. Better to stick to strong ale if you’ve got serious drinking to do, and don’t you know.”
“I’ll remember that,” Adam said as he directed his head toward the dressing-room washbasin and willed his feet to carry the rest of him there. He bent in front of the basin and poured the ice-cold contents of the pitcher straight over his hair and shoulders, the shock of the frigid water pulling an involuntary yowl of pain from him before he buried his face in the towel Chollie handed him.
He staggered back to the bedchamber and stripped out of his soggy shirt as Chollie obligingly built up the dying fire. He slid his arms into a midnight blue dressing gown before joining his friend, who was once more sitting at his ease in one of the two leather chairs.
“Run your fingers through your hair a time or two, boyo,” Chollie recommended. “You look like you’ve had that black mop of yours combed with a rake. Devilishly unbecoming. Ah, that’s better. Now, where would you like me to hit you, I’m asking? A solid body punch, or a clear shot to your jaw? I’m thinking the body punch, as your gut must be doing a fine jig already, with all that brandy sloshing around inside, you understand.”
Adam pushed at his still-damp hair, looking at his friend. “I was going to tell you, Chollie.”
“And sure you were, boyo. You weren’t going to let me just come tripping in here, calling out for Geoff, asking him if he’d like to go wenching with Edmund and me this evening—and find him sitting in that chair, a rug over his knees. When was it you were going to tell me, boyo? St. Tibb’s Eve, the last night before Judgment Day? No. That can’t be it, can it? Because you’ve already made all your judgments, haven’t you? And don’t you be going all black-faced on me, boyo. Geoff told me the whole of it just now, after Edmund was gone. Shame on you, Adam Dagenham. Bloody shame on you.”
Adam pressed his head against the high back of the chair. “Kill me slowly, Chollie. I deserve every moment of the pain.”
“Oh, no. Oh, no, you don’t! Don’t go making me feel sorry for you, boyo. Not when I’m just building up to a fine tirade. That sweet, dear colleen. Thinking she could have—that she’d... well, words fail me, boyo. That they do.”
“I was wrong, Chollie,” Adam said quietly, opening his eyes because, when he closed them, all he could see was Sherry standing in front of him, telling him she no longer loved him. “I’ve taken the most beautiful thing in the world, the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’ve destroyed it. I couldn’t believe it, felt I was living a dream, and when I saw her that day... Christ! How could I have been so blind?”
“You do penance very well, boyo,” Chollie said, as Adam looked at him through slitted, heavy eyes. “I could go about finding you a hair shirt, but I don’t think you need it. What you need, boyo, is to be telling that wife of yours that you’re sorry. Not me. Me, I’m more than a bit put out that I can’t beat you into flinders without thinking I’d be striking a man already down. What happened here last night, boyo? Because something did, and no mistake. Something not even Geoff knows about, and there’s a boy who’d tell you all lie knows at the drop of a hint, and then make up the rest.”
Adam needed a drink. He needed a half dozen drinks. And a month of sleep. “I believed her Chollie. After weeks, months, of not believing her I finally listened. But it’s too late. She doesn’t love me anymore.”
“You can be unlovable,” Chollie said, standing up and beginning to pace. “There is that. Did you hurt her?”
Closing his eyes, Adam saw Sherry’s pinched white, expressionless face, heard her speak again in that frightening monotone, telling him that she couldn’t feel anymore. “I hurt her, Chollie. I did more than hurt her. I’ve lost her.”
“Then Geoff’s right? You never really loved her?”
“Geoff said that, did he?” Adam dropped his chin onto his chest and rubbed at his forehead with both hands. “I thought I did, Chollie. I truly believed I loved her. But I didn’t, did I? I wanted her. I possessed her. I made her into a dream of what I thought I wanted, what I believed I needed. I took her innocence, then distrusted her because she let me have it, gave me all of herself. And then I waited, I just waited, until she proved that she didn’t really deserve my love. And all of that time, all the time we were happy, through all these last wretched months, it was I who didn’t deserve her.”
He looked up at his friend through his tears, not the first tears he’d shed since last night. Good God, am I still half-drunk? How else can I be so willing to make such a damning confession? “I’ve ruined everything, destroyed everything. I love Sherry so much, but she’ll never believe that. Not now. Not after what I’ve done. Oh, Christ. What do I do now, Chollie? What do I do now?”
“I’d start by calling for a hot tub and getting myself dressed and decent,” Chollie said, as the door opened and Rimmon himself entered, carrying the breakfast tray. “Because our friend Edmund, our most irresistible friend Edmund—and the man is no braggart when he calls himself that, I can tell you after last night—has taken your unhappy wife out for a morning drive. Here, you’ll be taking this back downstairs,” he said, lifting the brandy decanter off the tray as Rimmon placed it on a table beside the fire. “His Lordship won’t be having any more brandy. Not this morning, not ever again. You understand that, my man?”
“I take my orders from His Lordship,” Rimmon said, his colorless eyes seeking out Adam, who was eyeing the brandy decanter with some hunger.
Just one more drink. Adam knew he would be all right, if he could have just one more drink of brandy. Him, a man who had never been one for the bottle, not in all his years. Not until his life had fallen apart, until he’d torn it apart. “Take it away, Rimmon,” he said at last, “and have my valet order a tub.”
“Yes, my lord,” Rimmon said, bowing to Adam even as he glared at Chollie. “At once, my lord.”
“Salvation seize his soul, but I definitely don’t like that man, Adam,” Chollie said as Rimmon left the chamber. “Where did Hoggs go, then? Liked Hoggs, I did.”
Adam lightly brushed a hand across his face, beating away the remaining cobwebs that lingered in his mind. “What? Oh, Hoggs. Yes, I prefer him to Rimmon, myself. But Hoggs was called away suddenly, something about a sister in Lincolnshire needing him for a few months, as I remember it. It was Hoggs who suggested Rimmon as his replacement for the interim. Hoggs suggested Emma as well, when Sherry’s maid, Mary, decided not to come back to London with us. I doubt you’d like her, either, now that I think about the thing. Why do you ask?”
“No reason, I suppose. Hoggs, did you say? Strange.” Chollie looked to the closed door, then shook his head, touched a hand to his waistcoat pocket. “Well, never mind. I guess I’m feeling especially Irish this morning, that’s all, which just goes to prove that I drank too much last night.”
~ ~ ~
Sherry looked around the large room rather blankly, wondering precisely how she had ended up there, and even why. Her mind was so dull, as if she had been sleepwalking through the day.
She had been out driving with Mr. Burnell. She’d been out driving, then Mr. Burnell had suggested they stop by to visit with his aunt for a few minutes. The woman had been complaining that no one visited her unless at the point of a pistol—which her naughty nephew had considered to be nonsense, as excepting for the fact that he was her nephew, he vowed he wouldn’t visit Lady J unless that pistol was also cocked.
Sherry had even laughed at that. She remembered now. Sad and tired as she was, Edmund Burnell had been able to make her laugh.
And now she was sitting in Lady Jasper’s drawing room, her gloves in her lap, awaiting the woman, as Mr. Burnell tended to a caller who had come to the servants’ entrance, demanding to be seen. He hadn’t seemed happy to be summoned, but he’d smiled, politely excused himself, and gone off, leaving her alone.
She was so alone. So very alone.
How lost she was inside herself even as she searched for herself, knowing the essence that was Charlotte Victor had gone missing somewhere, leaving only this sad, unfeeling shell. The outside of her smiled, and spoke, and had even partaken of a very fine breakfast that morning. But Charlotte Victor was gone.
She should go home. To Leicestershire. To her papa. That’s what she should do. Papa wouldn’t even know she was there, or care overmuch, unless he needed help in the kennels. But it wasn’t necessary for her to leave London. Not physically. Her body didn’t matter, wouldn’t much care where it sat, where it slept. And her mind? Ah, that she carried with her no matter where she went.
Her heart, however, had packed and left the city sometime during the night, and she had no idea where it was now. She’d miss it terribly, if only she could feel anything....
“There you are, you sweet thing!”
Sherry gave herself a small mental shake, then smiled at Lady Jasper as the elderly dame entered the room at her usual near gallop. She had been quite the horsewoman, Sherry remembered, and even if she hadn’t been in the saddle in a dozen years, she still walked as if she’d had a horse under her only a moment earlier.
“How lovely to see you, Lady Jasper,” Sherry said as she stood for a moment, pressed her lips against the older woman’s hot, dry cheek. “Your nephew insisted you wouldn’t mind if I made a morning call,” she continued at her most formal, automatically saying what had to be said in order to be polite. “As luck would have it, it was a good thing he thought of it. One of his horses went lame just as we were pulling into the square, so that his driver has taken the entire equipage around to the mews, to secure another horse.”
“That’s Edmund, straight down to the ground,” Lady Jasper cackled—she really did cackle, Sherry thought, although she had never heard a cackle before meeting the old woman. She then looked at Sherry with an intensity that made Sherry involuntarily lift a hand to her face, wondering if she had a smut on her cheek. “Luck always favors him. He’d have it no other way. So, you’re the one, are you? I’d thought so, that first night, but I couldn’t be sure until now.”
“The one?” Sherry repeated blankly. She was paying attention, wasn’t she? What had she missed? “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Yes, of course. The one, my dear,” Lady Jasper said, glaring at the maid who brought in a silver tray loaded down with teapot, cups, and a small mountain of cakes. “Get on with it, Millie. Ever had a horse slow as you, I’d have had it shot. Now,” she continued as the maid all but ran from the room, whimpering, “where were we? Oh, yes. I think my nephew is smitten with you, my dear, in his way, of course.”
“Smitten with—” Sherry closed her mouth with a snap, realizing that she’d been repeating everything Lady Jasper said. “I don’t think I have given him any reason to—”
“No, no! You haven’t encouraged him, m’dear,” Lady Jasper interrupted. “Edmund needs no encouragement, I assure you. And he’s impossible to resist. Unless you’re in love with your husband, that is, and who in London loves her husband, I ask you? Certainly no one of my acquaintance, not in forty years of watching this mad dance we call Society. I certainly despised mine most thoroughly. Sugar, m’dear?”
“Um... yes. Yes, please,” Sherry answered, holding up her cup so that her hostess could spoon some sugar into it. “Thank you. Um... surely you didn’t just say you didn’t like your husband, Lady Jasper?”
“That’s true enough, m’dear. I said I despised him. Most thoroughly.”
“Yes, of course. But, if I might ask, my lady—why did you marry him if you didn’t love him?”
Lady Jasper looked at Sherry for a moment, then a grin all but split her face in two. “Why? Ah, you may be married, but you remain an infant, don’t you? Why does anyone marry, m’dear? For money. For station. Mostly for money, I’d say. Daventry is positively up to his handsome neck in it, isn’t he? Give him an heir, m’dear, that’s what he wants, and then he’ll let you alone, and you can do what you wish. I tried, but the Devil was in it, and none of the babes lived to see breath. That, and old age, are my only sorrows. You have to be very careful what you ask for, you understand. Don’t limit yourself when the chance comes to strike a bargain.”
Sherry knew her jaw was at half cock, but she couldn’t seem to close her mouth, or think of a thing to say. Lady Jasper was a strange woman, everyone knew it, but she’d never believed the woman to be out of her mind. Until now. “Um...” she said at last, wishing she felt more in command of her own senses at the moment, “thank you, my lady. I’ll—I’ll remember that.”
“Giving advice, Lady J?” Edmund Burnell asked as he strode into the room, a spring in his step, a becoming smile lighting his handsome face. “My deepest apologies for deserting you, ladies. An unavoidable interruption, I’m afraid. But it’s all taken care of now. I’d commissioned someone to do something for me, and he came to apologize, for it seems he couldn’t do what he was told to do and felt he personally needed to come inform me of that fact. Infernal creature. Do you have a problem with your servants, my lady?”
Sherry immediately thought of Emma, whom she had last seen trying on one of her favorite bonnets. The tub had still sat in front of the fireplace, damp towels were laid over chairs, and Sherry had been forced to locate her parasol on her own, but Emma had seemed perfectly content. Emma, who knew when her mistress slept alone, and when Adam had come to her during the night, leaving evidence of the frenzy of their passion. Their passion, never their love.
Well, that was over now. Everything was over now. And, if Lady Jasper was to be believed, servants would see nothing out of the ordinary if a husband and his wife lived separate lives. Perhaps it was time she dismissed Emma. If only she knew how to go about the thing.
“I’m afraid I haven’t quite gotten the hang of how to be a proper mistress,” Sherry said after a moment, shrugging. “In fact, I believe I’m rather intimidated by them, as town servants are so very different from our simple country servants, who seem almost to be members of our small family. I’ve only had one maid before coming to London this time, and she had been a part of our household since before I’d been born.”
“Excuse me, sir, madam.”
Everyone turned toward the doorway, where the Jasper butler stood just on the edge of the carpet, looking to Edmund. “The person is back, sir. The one who was here yesterday, if you take my meaning. I said you weren’t receiving, but—well, sir, I couldn’t budge the person, sir.”
Sherry watched as Edmund’s face turned hard, all planes and angles as his temper came close to the surface for a moment before retreating behind his bright smile. “You and I will speak privately later, Midgard, I assure you. Put the person in the tradesmen’s anteroom. I’ll be there shortly. Excuse me again, dear ladies,” he then added, rising and bowing to both of them. “I seem to have made a mistake in stopping back here, as I’m suddenly in such demand.”
Sherry only nodded, then drank deep of her now-tepid tea, wincing as she realized that Lady Jasper had put at least three measures of sugar in the cup. She sat still and let Lady Jasper smile at her, believing she heard a woman’s voice raised shrilly before a door closed heavily somewhere in the house.
“... has to beat them away with sticks, poor boy,” Lady Jasper was saying as Sherry brought herself back to attention. “Go to the window, dear, and peek out to see if there’s a crest on the carriage. I’ll wager a monkey to a hatpin you’ll see the duke of Westbrook’s crest. Melinda Hatchard always was a fool, no matter that she’s a duchess now. Go on, there’s a good girl,” she ordered, as Sherry reluctantly got to her feet, embarrassed for the duchess of Westbrook, or whoever it was who had been so desperate as to come to Lady Jasper’s house, seeking out Edmund.
“Yes, it’s the duke of Westbrook’s coach. I recognize the crest,” Sherry said a few moments later as she turned away from the window, cringing at the sight of Lady Jasper’s horsey face split in what could only be termed an unholy grin.
There was so much Sherry didn’t understand about London Society, and the duchess of Westbrook’s behavior in coming to see Edmund Burnell headed the list at the moment. “Are—are you saying that the duchess and Mr. Burnell... that is... surely—”
“Oh, sit down and drink your tea, m’ dear,” Lady Jasper interrupted, and Sherry gratefully retook her seat, even as she wished herself back to the day before she’d met Adam at the stream, back to her innocence. “I suppose Edmund danced with Her Grace a time or two, that’s all. Whispered a few bits of nonsense into her willing ear. But you know how it is when a woman gets to believing herself to be in love. They do the strangest things.”
“Yes, they do,” Sherry agreed quietly.
“And the gentleman who has caused all the ruckus—if we can even call such a person a gentleman—isn’t in the least upset when he realizes that he’s left another heart behind him, crushed under his heel. Edmund included, I’m afraid. The duchess would be your witness to that.” Lady Jasper leaned forward in her chair, motioning for Sherry to do likewise. “What do you say, m’dear? Shall we turn the tables on Edmund? Strike a blow for all womankind?”
“Strike a—no, I’m through with repeating whatever you say like some simple-witted gudgeon,” Sherry declared flatly, falling back on honesty because it was the one thing she felt she had left to her. “Lady Jasper, just what is it you’re trying to say, have been trying to say ever since you first walked in the door? You really must tell me plainly. Otherwise, I’m afraid you could drop hints until they rain down on us both from the ceiling, and still I wouldn’t understand. I’m a simple country miss, for all that I may have a husband and a grand title now. You’re simply going to have to be more clear. Plus,” she ended, taking truth all the way to its limits and perhaps a step or two further than necessary, “I really haven’t been attending you all too well, for which I must most sincerely apologize.”
Lady Jasper fell heavily back against the cushions of her chair, staring at Sherry. “Lord, you are simple, aren’t you? Oh, not simpleminded, m’dear. I certainly didn’t mean that. But you have no notion of intrigue, do you? Although I do see that your rather brutal honesty might seem refreshing to many of the jaded. For myself, I’ve never scrupled to use honesty when a good wile would do. I doubt many would ever think of it. Interesting. That’s probably what attracted Edmund to you, beyond the fact that he’s got quite an eye for beauty. Honesty. Not something the boy has been exposed to all that often.” She gave a wave of her hand. “Go on, m’dear. Do it some more. Say something else honest.”
Sherry sighed and shook her head. “I think I’d like to go back to Grosvenor Square now.”
“Yes, yes, that’s good,” Lady Jasper prompted, rubbing her hands together. “You want to go home. I can understand that. But that’s enough honesty for now, m’dear. Now we’ll talk about Edmund, and how you’re going to teach my naughty nephew not to trifle with a woman’s heart.”
“No, Lady Jasper,” Sherry said, rising, holding her gloves tightly in her hand. “No, I’m not going to do that. I have no reason to do that. I like your nephew, even if you don’t. I don’t know why you don’t, but it’s clear to me that you’d like nothing better than to see him unhappy.”
“Of course I want to see him unhappy, you silly little chit. He’s the very Devil,” Lady Jasper gritted out quietly, shooting a quick, nervous glance toward the doorway.
“He’s the—oh, Lady Jasper, how silly!” Sherry sat down again, giggling. Poor, dotty old woman. “Well, of course he is. He told me so himself, as a matter of fact. But he didn’t start the Great London fire. That began in a bakery, I believe. Mr. Burnell,” she said, seeing Edmund enter the room once more, “you’ve got your very own aunt calling you the Devil. Shame on you.”
“Shame on Lady J, rather,” Burnell said, holding out his hand, so that Sherry rose, taking it, more than ready to continue their ride, or do anything other than remain there, listening to Lady Jasper, who most definitely had lost half her mind to old age and general meanness. “Dear Aunt, you never will forgive me for enjoying myself, will you? I suppose you’ve been busy telling Her Ladyship that I’m a thoroughly wicked man? I assure you, I did nothing to encourage the duchess.”
“Now that is evil,” Sherry scolded, shaking a finger in his face. “The poor duchess of Westbrook is owed anonymity, at the very least.” And then, as Edmund raised one well-sculpted brow, a half smile lighting his handsome face, she said, “Oh, dear. I shouldn’t have said that, should I? I peeked out the window, if you must know. Have you totally crushed her heart beneath your boot? Because that would be wicked.”
Burnell pulled her arm through his, patting her hand. “I was kindness itself, my lady, I assure you. I merely told her my heart was otherwise occupied, and there was, alas, no room for her.”
“Ha! You don’t have a heart, nephew,” Lady Jasper said, and Sherry turned just in time to see the old lady pouring something into her tea, then secreting the silver flask again somewhere on her person. Had she been drinking tea all this time, or something stronger? Was she drunk? She did seem to be slurring her words. “Or a soul, I imagine. Does the Devil have a soul?”
“Why, I’d imagine the fellow’s got millions of them, dear Aunt, with more of them falling to him every day,” Edmund said, leaving Sherry for a moment, to bend and kiss Lady Jasper’s cheek. “Now excuse me, please, as I escort the marchioness back to Grosvenor Square. Why don’t you take a small nap, Aunt? I believe your tongue could use the rest.”
Sherry bade Lady Jasper good day, her mind tumbling over itself with questions as she allowed Edmund Burnell to escort her back down the stairs and out to his open carriage. “Your aunt is the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” she told him once he’d handed her up onto the seat.
“She’s the unhappiest woman you’ve ever met,” Edmund corrected, and Sherry silently agreed with his assessment of the lady who was, after all, his aunt. Who should know her better than her own nephew? “She doesn’t much care for men, even those in her own family, sad to say. I also believe she’s discovered, after forty years of believing otherwise, that money and social position are not the roads to complete happiness.”
“Is there anything that assures us complete happiness?” Sherry asked, snapping open her parasol as the carriage pulled away from the flagway and made a wide turn inside the square, heading back to the main thoroughfare. “Other than perfect love, which doesn’t really exist.”
“Oh, my, that sounded heartfelt, my dear lady,” Edmund said, taking her hand in his. “And, yes, I do believe I see a hint of sadness in those lovely green eyes, a deeper hint even than I saw when first we met. Well, we can’t have this, can we? May I be of assistance in any way? You’ve but to ask and, if it’s within my power, I promise to give it to you.”
Sherry remembered Lady Jasper’s declaration—perhaps her warning—that Edmund held her in some affection other than brotherly concern or platonic friendship. Which was above everything silly, because Edmund was Adam’s friend, and had been before she had even met him. Friends didn’t betray friends. Richard Brimley had never been a friend. “You could consent to being my escort at Lady Winston’s masked ball, I suppose, since my husband calls such affairs silly and refuses to attend. But first you’d have to help me decide on a costume. I had thought to wear a simple domino. You know—a cloak and half mask. But I feel a sudden urge to lose myself in a small fantasy. Do you have any suggestions?”
“A masked ball?” Edmund’s grin took years off his face, making him seem no older than Geoffrey. “Oh, I can think of several ideas for costumes. If you’ll allow it, I’ll send something around for you by tomorrow morning. It will be my gift, to thank you for your kind invitation.”
Sherry considered his words. She’d spoken impulsively and already regretted her invitation. Edmund seemed much too eager, and she had no idea if Adam planned to attend Lady Winston’s ball with her just that she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him right then, talking to him. “I don’t know that it would be proper for me to accept such a generous gift,” she said, lowering her parasol to cover her sudden confusion. Edmund was such a dear man, but she couldn’t be attracted to him, no matter how kind he was when she was so in need of kindness. She couldn’t be attracted to anyone. Could she?
“I’ll send Daventry the bill, then. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Edmund said cheerfully. “Not only that, but I’ll find a costume for Lord Dagenham as well. I’m quite sure I can convince him to join us. In fact, I believe I shall insist upon it. Much better than a simple ride in the park. The boy needs some fun.”
Mention of Geoff—so kind, Edmund was, so endlessly thoughtful—served to dissolve the last of Sherry’s misgivings, and the matter was settled before the carriage pulled up in front of the mansion in Grosvenor Square.
~ ~ ~
Adam knocked on the closed door separating his bedchamber from Sherry’s. Just that spring it had been the door connecting their two rooms; a door that had never been closed, giving him a view of her bed, that never had been slept in through all of the Spring Season. Separating. Connecting. It was all a matter of one’s viewpoint.
Sherry opened the door herself, a silver-backed brush in her hand, her eyes looking at him without rancor, without passion, without any emotion at all. In fact, it was as if she were looking straight through him.
He’d gone out this afternoon in his curricle, looking for her. In the park. Along the main thoroughfares. But there had been no sign of Edmund Burnell’s carriage. Where had she been? What had she been doing? Why did he think he might still have the right to ask those questions?
“Geoff and I missed you at dinner this evening, and I thought I’d stop by and see how you are feeling. May I come in?” he asked, his hands bunched into fists at his side, because otherwise he would have taken hold of her, held her, tried to shake her into some sort of reaction. Any sort of reaction.
She just looked at him for another long moment, nodded, then turned, walked back to sit in front of her dressing table, and began brushing her hair.
He followed her to the dressing table, standing behind her, longing to put his hands on her shoulders, aching to bend down, kiss the top of her head. “I’ve come to apologize, of course,” he said stiffly after a few moments, then winced as he heard his own voice, the empty words.
“I accept your apology, Adam,” Sherry said with unshakable calm as he watched her reflection in the mirror, watched her tip her head, pulling the brush through her long curls. “We’ve both made mistakes. I think that’s clear now.”
“Yes. That’s very clear now, Sherry.”
“For a long time it wasn’t. Not to me. Not to you.”
“I suppose not.”
What else could he say? What else could he do? He stepped to one side of the low bench and dropped to one knee. “Sherry, don’t do this. Please. I’d cut off both my arms if it would help.”
Sherry put down the brush, but still didn’t turn to look at him. “You didn’t believe me, Adam. You all but leapt at the chance not to believe me. And not all that much has changed, has it? You still believe that I’m at least partly responsible for Geoff’s accident. I am, you know. That was the lie I told, saying I didn’t know where Geoff was that day, not giving you time to find him, dissuade him from his recklessness. Because I did know. I knew he’d gone off to race. So it doesn’t matter what you chose not to believe or forgive. The lie, or the truth. Either way, I’m responsible.”
“No.” Adam took her hands in his, held them tightly, winced inwardly when he felt how icy-cold they were. “All the scales have dropped from my eyes now, darling. I’m seeing clearly now, and for the first time in my life. I’m responsible, Sherry. For all of it. Your only mistake was in loving me when I didn’t deserve your love. Geoff, out to disobey me after I’d tried to run his life, made his own decision, then dragged you into lying for him. And I wanted to believe what I saw, for my sins. Lord knows I couldn’t believe in my own happiness. We were living a dream, darling, you and I, and I knew it. The dream was too perfect, a fantasy that had nothing to do with really living our lives, really loving each other. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I knew it had to end. I believe you sensed it, too. The dream had to end.”
“And it did,” Sherry said, pulling her hands free of him as she rose, walked to look out the window overlooking Grosvenor Square. She looked so fragile as she stood there, achingly beautiful, sadly vulnerable. “How gratifying for you to be proved right, Adam, one way or another. Yes. I knew the dream couldn’t last. I had already seen it slipping away once we’d left London and gone back to Daventry Court. You’d married a child and begun to regret it. Why else do you think I played with Geoff, played with those terrible races, if not to gain back your attention any way that I could?”
“Sweet Jesus,” Adam mumbled under his breath, whether as a curse or in prayer he didn’t know. He’d worked this all out in his head, through all of a drunken night and a long, sobering day, but hearing Sherry say the words rocked him all over again. “I don’t deserve anything but your disgust, Sherry, but I want to try again. Begin again. We can’t pretend the past didn’t happen, either of us. We can’t blink our eyes or snap our fingers and have all the hurt go away, all the terrible words, the unhappy months—”
“Geoff’s accident?”
He nodded, sighing. “Yes. That, too. But I do love you, Sherry. More now than ever. It’s a real love, darling, not a dream, a fantasy. If you believe nothing else, please believe that. Give me time to show you I mean what I say.”
She was silent for a long time. Adam suffered through several levels of Hell during that silence, would have offered his soul to anyone who could make his words sound more believable, help to soften Sherry’s heart.
“It may be too late. I can’t feel anything, Adam,” she said at last, her voice low, almost a whisper. She turned, looked at him, her eyes dry, distant. “I believed I loved you. But I don’t know now if I really did, if what I felt was really love. I don’t know that I’ll ever feel anything again.”
He took a quick step toward her, but she held out her hand, the defensive gesture stopping him with the power of his own guilty conscience, his shame for how badly he’d treated her, how shabbily he’d served their love.
“I won’t touch you, Sherry. I promise. Not until you want me to touch you, to hold you. Just let me be near you, here in London, once we’ve gone back to Daventry Court for Christmas. Let me court you, as I should have courted you from the beginning. Slowly, giving you time, time I didn’t allow you. Everything happened in such a rush, much too quickly. There’s so much we know about each other, and so much more we don’t know, have never taken the time to learn. I think I can make you feel again, darling, earn your love again. Because I’ll never believe you didn’t love me. I can’t believe that, Sherry, and still want to take another breath. Just, please, darling, give me that chance. Give us both that chance.”
“For the child,” Sherry whispered, her hands going protectively to her belly. “I’ll do it, Adam, but not for us. I doubt either of us deserves a second chance. Only for the child.”
“The—the child?” Adam sat down on the dressing-table bench, his knees suddenly not strong enough to keep him upright. This was too much, and he didn’t know how to react if he couldn’t hold her, kiss her, know that she was as happy about the idea of a pregnancy as he was. “Sherry? There’s to be a child? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, and have been for more than a month,” she said, her voice at last taking on some emotion, although it was not the one he’d longed to hear. “And, before you ask, Adam, it is yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me? I’m tired, and I want to go to bed. If you want, you can begin courting me, as you call it, in the morning. Thursday night, however, Edmund is escorting Geoff and me to the masked ball at Lady Winston’s. Good night, Adam.”
Adam stood, a flash of anger shooting through him as he remembered Chollie’s warning that the handsome, likable Edmund Burnell was “irresistible” to the ladies. Who could be more vulnerable to the man’s charms than his own unhappy wife? He shook his head. “No, madam, Edmund is not escorting you to Lady Winston’s. He may join us at the ball.”
“Whatever you wish, Adam. I really don’t care. Although I must say that ordering me about is a strange way of courting me,” Sherry said, shrugging, her indifference maddening him, frustrating him beyond his own comprehension.
Adam opened his mouth, to apologize yet again, but something stopped him. Pride. It stuck in his throat, stuck hard, so that he was unable to swallow it one more time He’d come to Sherry, the penitent, on his knees. He’d damn near crawled to her. Now she was dangling a child in front of him and at the same time waving Edmund Burnell beneath his nose.
“Pleasant dreams, Sherry,” he said shortly.
He then turned on his heels and left the chamber, quietly closing the door behind him, leaning against it, trying to recapture his breath, ease his heart back into its usual slow, steady beat. It would be another long night, but a sober one. He hoped he would live through it.