He clenched his jaw. “Then I will make sure my heart is the only one that is broken.”
Ada sat in the parlor and tried not to fidget. She lifted a gloved hand to ensure that her straw bonnet was firmly in place and smoothed her dark blue skirts. She was feeling much like the day she’d waited for Mrs. Grant to interview her for the Manor. Except she wondered if she wasn’t more anxious now. The council member of the Wicked Widows’ Club had composed herself as any genteel lady. Today was far different. Not only was Ada getting ready to spend the afternoon with a small child, but she would also be with the girl’s father, a man she had already been intimate with.
However, with each day that passed, she was beginning to wonder if it had all been a dream. It certainly didn’t seem real, especially when she wasn’t in the same surroundings. Combined with the fact there had been a thunderstorm and she hadn’t been able to sleep—it was easy to pretend as though nothing untoward had happened at all.
Except it had. And she couldn’t seem to forget about it as completely as she would have liked. It didn’t help that she seemed to be thrust into Mr. Clarke’s path when she had believed they might never encounter each other again.
She supposed that was what many would call fate.
Ada feared it meant disaster.
At the knock on the front door, she jumped, but then quickly rose to her feet. Again, she patted her bonnet and smoothed her skirts, but she was still flustered when Mr. Clarke and his daughter were shown into the parlor. He was holding Arabella by the hand, and although she looked perfectly adorable in her pink dress, he was the one Ada couldn’t stop staring at. He was wearing a teal and gold waistcoat, tan breeches, a black jacket, and matching Hessians, all of which were tied neatly together with a white cambric shirt and cravat. His dark eyes twinkled as they beheld her, and his longer-length brown hair just brushed his shoulders.
If she was the type to daydream about a dashing, pirate rogue, eager to sweep her onto his ship and sail around the world with her, he would certainly fit the part.
Thankfully, she had passed the age of girlish fantasies.
She pasted a smile on her face and walked forward, meeting them halfway across the room. She offered both a slight curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Clarke. Miss Jenkins.”
He offered a low bow, and Ada was impressed when Arabella released her father’s hand and dipped into a fashionable curtsy that would have made most of the women at court swoon with envy. But when she straightened, she asked boldly, “Is this where you live?” And thus, broke the illusion.
“It is,” Ada said. “But when you greet someone, it isn’t polite to start demanding answers to questions. It would be better if you were to say what a lovely house it was.”
She moved her head, looking directly at everything within her line of vision. “It is nice.”
“I’m pleased you approve,” she returned dryly, and she noticed that Mr. Clarke was doing his best not to laugh.
She held out a hand to the girl. “Would you care to take a tour?”
The girl’s eyes brightened. If Ada hadn’t already guessed that she possessed a spirited and adventurous nature, that would have proven it. She was eager to explore someplace new.
She spoke as she led Arabella around the entire household, and even introduced her to Cook and the housekeeper. When she discovered that they were sisters, her blue eyes turned almost sad. “I wish I had a sister.”
Although she swallowed over the lump in her throat, Ada said, “Perhaps someday you might.”
When they passed through her bedchamber and into her private sitting room, Ada could feel a blush creeping over her cheeks as Mr. Clarke strolled through after them. “Very nice,” he murmured, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a spark of heat in his dark eyes. It spoke to something wicked deep within her, but she pushed it firmly aside as they headed outside to the gardens. Although it wasn’t as grand as the one his parents had, it was her personal sanctuary.
“A butterfly!” Arabella cried as she took off after the colorful insect with a squeal of childish laughter.
“You would have made a wonderful mother.”
She turned to see Mr. Clarke looking at her with warmth and empathy in his gaze. She was grateful that it wasn’t seductive, because that would have made her upset. Instead, she offered a slight smile and said, “Thank you. I always hoped it would happen.”
“What did happen, if you don’t mind the intrusion?”
It still pained Ada to talk about her failure to produce any healthy offspring, yet she felt that same comfort in speaking freely around him. She moved to a nearby bench and sat down. He joined her, but she didn’t look in his direction as she spoke, rather she kept her focus on Arabella, who was still attempting to catch the butterfly, which continued to elude her grasp.
“My first child was stillborn. As I grew closer to my lying in, I knew there was something wrong. I didn’t feel any movement anymore. When I went to see my physician, he feared the same conclusion I did. He gave me something to increase my chances of giving birth prematurely. I did, and my suspicions were confirmed.” She took a deep breath. The pain of that day was still imprinted in her mind. “The second time I gave birth, I feared the same would happen. It did, but this time it was because I was in labor for so long. The babe suffocated.” She shrugged. “After that, Archie and I were afraid to try again. But it didn’t matter. Not long afterward he went to war, and then when he returned and we might have dared to take one more chance, he was killed. I told myself that sometimes things just aren’t meant to be, so I decided it was time to give up trying to be a mother, or even a wife, and focus on being a widow instead.” She turned to him. “At seven and thirty, so far, that has given me the most reward.”
At first, Brandt didn’t know what to say. All he could think of to do was reach out and take Ada’s hand in his, to offer the only comfort he knew she would readily accept. “I’m truly sorry,” he said sincerely. “I fully understand your reluctance to take a second chance on anything that caused such heartache for you.” He lowered his voice. “But I don’t intend to take anything else from you, Ada. That is not my intention. I want to give you the world, if you would but accept my hand.”
She looked at him evenly. “Why me? You are not yet thirty years of age. You could easily find a woman your age, who doesn’t have a past that she must contend with.”
“It’s because of your past, your strength, that I find you so appealing,” he countered. “You speak as if you’re in your dotage, but I would hardly consider seven and thirty to be such an advanced age.” He lifted a hand and stroke her hair. “I have yet to see one gray hair on your lovely head.”
“You speak flowery words, sir, but you seem to forget of my ailment of the brain. I can never predict when it might strike.”
“Do you think I can’t handle it?” he asked. He straightened and returned his hands to his lap. “Let me tell you a story. It happened about a year and a half ago when I was in Egypt. As you can imagine, things are decidedly different there than they are here. Women have even less freedom, if you can believe that. It was also difficult, as a British man, to maneuver my way about the country without restraint because they had sided with the French during the war. Because of my background, we weren’t regarded very favorably. But because I was fascinated with the pharaohs of old, I refused to be waylaid. I was determined to conclude my research. Unfortunately, it was at the peril of an Egyptian woman named Heba. Her superiors believed that our relationship went further than it had, and whatever I said to the contrary didn’t matter. She was imprisoned and later died, just because she had dared to befriend me. Not long after that I returned to England. I told my mother that it was because I had accomplished what I’d set out to do, but the truth was, I just couldn’t stay there any longer.”
