Hugh blinked at her words, coming as they did on the heels of his erotic thoughts. He stirred uneasily in his chair, afraid he would soon embarrass himself before all by the evidence of his increasing arousal. Hastily he clamped down on his wayward emotions, his teeth grinding with determination. He allowed a slow smile to curve his lips upward in a crooked manner.
“You are correct, Miss Mannion, and I should be grateful for your assistance.”
Mrs. Mannion heard their exchange and broke off ministering to Adeline to address them: “Yes, Vanessa, please do. We do not want him passing out again, and I’m afraid he went beyond his limits when he picked up Adeline. I really should have forbidden it,” she mused. “But Vanessa, as Mr. Talverton no longer appears to be in danger of delirium, we may dispense with vigilant nursing,” she added pointedly.
Vanessa blushed at her mother’s words, acknowledging the propriety but realizing it warred with her desires. When she saw him smile up at her with his crooked grin and his golden blond waves falling across the white bandage on his head, the tingling surged rapidly up from her toes to shake her entire being. She offered him her hand to aid him in rising but wondered, as she struggled with the light-headedness his nearness created, who would be supporting whom.
Trevor, kneeling on the floor beside the sofa where Adeline lay, rocked back on his heels as he watched the silent drama being enacted between Hugh and Vanessa as she escorted him out of the room. He nudged Adeline to view the play and noted Mrs. Mannion watching with complacency while holding up her hand to her husband to forestall any comment from him.
Neither actor noticed the attention they received from the others in the room as they walked arm in arm toward the door. Vanessa was interestingly pale, and Hugh remarkably formal, yet each tried to maintain covert regard for the other that was not lost on the rest of the company. Mr. Mannion turned to his wife, a question in his eyes. She nodded. He turned back to watch them exit the room and grinned, with a renewed spark in his eyes that had been missing for four years.
Vanessa quietly touched the door handle, then hesitated, looking up and down the hall before silently pushing the door open. Hugh was sleeping, the etched lines of pain erased from his brow. Vanessa smiled and tiptoed into the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind her.
She shouldn’t be in his room now. She understood her mother’s strictures well. Nonetheless, she chose to ignore them, for she needed to see Hugh again, to drink in his presence and dream on what might have been. She crossed to the bed, her hand reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair off his forehead, her slender fingers trailing through his thick blond waves.
All of her life she had been so intent on understanding everything she came in contact with. It was a drive within her. She’d felt the world was run by logic, and all a person had to do was know the rules. Funny, she thought, how those twisted ideas rooted themselves in one’s mind. She’d never dreamed some emotions defied rules, emotions that created chaos, beautiful chaos that felt right.
Such were the emotions gripping her now. She loved Hugh, and her mind was in chaos. What was a person to do when love was not returned full measure? Louisa was lucky, it seemed, for she’d discovered an unconditional love that was returned. How uncommon was that occurrence, and why did life have to be so unfair as to create a love that might not be returned? The trial upon her soul was great, yet it was a trial she bore with gladness for the knowledge she gained of herself and life.
She leaned over to place a kiss on Hugh’s forehead.
Hugh woke when her hand touched his hair, the feather-light touch caressing his head like a gentle breeze. He didn’t move but looked out through his lashes. His heart pounded. He was afraid she would hear it, so loud did it sound in his own ears. He was ecstatic at her attentions and knew he had only to be still to claim what was his.
He felt her lean over him and his arms ached to rise and grab her, tumbling her into the bed beside him. He felt a quick, hot tightening in his loins and prayed the covers would not betray him.
“I’m going to see if I can speak to Talverton now before Trevor returns with the documents.” Richard Mannion’s voice came from the hallway, just outside the bedroom door.
Vanessa jerked away from the bed, and silently Hugh cursed, for his breathing had become labored, his body alive with anticipation of Vanessa’s kiss. She looked around distractedly, then ran toward the large armoire that dominated a corner of the room. Opening its door, she stepped inside, pulling the door after her just as her father entered the room.
Hugh was delighted by Vanessa’s precipitous action and found it difficult not to smile.
“Mr. Talverton? Hugh? Are you awake?” asked Richard Mannion, slowly approaching.
Hugh stirred on the bed, feigning waking. His eyes fluttered open. ‘‘Oh, it’s you, Richard. Yes, I’m awake,” he said, yawning broadly.
“Good, good,” Mannion said, dragging the Windsor chair closer to the bed. He sat down and leaned forward. “Trevor’s presented your plan to me.”
Inside the armoire, Vanessa started.What plan?
She peered out through the crack in the door, maneuvering until the small slice of the room in view revealed her father seated at Hugh’s side.
“Great,” Hugh said hurriedly, “why don’t the three of us discuss it further when Trevor returns?” He was very much aware of Vanessa’s listening presence and therefore wanted to shut her father up.
“Can’t say I’m happy to be taking your blunt now, but I wouldn’t be an honest man if I didn’t voice my thanks,” Richard continued.
Hugh ground his teeth. “My money?” he tried to say lightly. “It’s what I owe you. Let’s just leave it at that."
"No, no, I can’t do that. Those funds could be invested and earning you interest rather than be used to bail out a foolish old goat from his dreams of grandeur.”
“You did what you thought was best,” Hugh said forcefully, exasperation edging his voice. He was expecting Vanessa to pop out of the armoire at any moment and confront the two of them. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Richard nodded heavily; then, a smile curved his lips. “You didn’t do it for me, anyway, did you?” he cajoled, poking Hugh in the ribs. “I’ve seen how you look at my daughter,” he said sagely, rising to leave.
Hugh winced when Richard poked his bruised ribs, more from the man’s words than from any pain he felt. He was surprised Vanessa had not shown herself in a fit of righteous indignation. She had more self-control than he would have thought. He only prayed she’d maintain a modicum of that self-control when she confronted him. Richard’s words sounded far more damning than the reality. He hoped he could make her listen.
Richard took his hand in his, then clapped him on the shoulder before he turned to leave the room. Hugh watched him go with mixed emotions. The man had decidedly more life in his step, and that was good. He only prayed he had not completely ruined his chances with Vanessa. This was one instance where her sense of pride would probably overpower her propriety and passion.
The bedroom door closed with a sharp click, and Vanessa exploded out of the armoire in a flurry of coats and shirts.
