Her thoughts did not leave the man riding alongside her. Only instead of her body making her sigh with pleasure, her mind now insisted on lining up the many reasons she should not want him. Not only the old animosities made him a kind of forbidden fruit. Other considerations forced themselves into her mind more starkly than in the past.
He might have returned for revenge, the on-dit said. Against whom? For what reason? She thought about how Grandmamma wanted to make peace with him, and how Theo was afraid. Was it possible they thought the danger came not from that old argument, but from something more recent? Did Stratton want revenge againstthem?
She wanted to reject that idea because it changed why he pursued her. It turned those kisses into something very unromantic and calculating. There were all kinds of revenge, after all. All kinds of ways to conquer the enemy. Not all of them required pistols or swords.
She glanced over at him. He appeared very handsome on his steed. Very confident too. As if he assumed he was winning some contest. If so, she was the prize. One of them was not plagued by doubts about the meaning of what happened on that hill.
You want me and I want you. She could not disagree with that. But an act could be motivated by desire and also by other far less honorable things.
Once at Bedford Square, she slid off her saddle, not caring how clumsy she looked. She took the reins and pressed them into Stratton’s hands.
“Thank you. However, I cannot do this again. I cannot do that again. Please do not call on me in the future.”
Chapter Ten
Clara’s decree that he not call again irritated Adam profoundly for two days. Not only was his desire frustrated, but also his conviction that he was making progress in his quest for the whole truth about his father.
On the third morning after their ride, he hit upon a way to share her company again. He arranged to meet with Langford and Brentworth later that day.
The bottle of port that they all shared was half-finished before Adam proposed to Langford that he host a garden party at his house. They sat in the card room at White’s, losing money to each other on this rainy evening, making the lamest of wagers on ridiculous things.
“Here I thought you wanted us to get together in the spirit of friendship, and instead you had ulterior motives. May I say, as directly as is polite, that if you have need of a garden party, you must host it yourself, Stratton.”
“He can’t,” Brentworth said after tipping his glass to his lips. “If he hosts it, he cannot spend all his time flirting with Lady Clara.”
“I have no ulterior motive,” Adam said. “Nor did I even suggest he invite Lady Clara.”
“Not yet. It was coming soon, though,” Brentworth said.
“Self-interest was the furthest thing from my mind. Indeed, the idea came to me because Langford keeps complaining about being hounded by those mothers. If he hosts a party and does not invite the two young ladies in question, it should put all the talk to rest.”
“Talk? What talk?” Langford sat up straight, suddenly alert.
“Oh. You have not heard. What a faux pas on my part to refer to it.”
“Do not castigate yourself, Stratton. He was bound to come upon it eventually,” Brentworth said.
“Come upon what? Speak plainly, one of you.”
“There is talk that Miss Hermione Galsworthy expects a proposal before the Season is out,” Adam said. “Very soon, actually. It is said—”
“Her mother is only stirring gossip in the vain hope that I will rise to the bait. These women are relentless. Well, I won’t have it. I will—”
“It is said,”Brentworth repeated, “that at the Fulton ball you kissed her. Behind a potted palm, no less. Really, Langford, if you are going to misbehave, try to find more discretion.”
Langford blanched. He drank a long swallow of port.
“Well, did you kiss her?” Adam asked. “If you are going to allow the enemy to compromise you like that, I will have to reconsider the respect I give your advice on strategy.”
“I didnotkiss her . . . She . . . kissed me.”
Brentworth leaned in and made a show of being perplexed. “How ever did that happen? She is half as tall as you. Did she climb up on a chair, grab you by the ears, and plant a big kiss on you? Pretend to have a cinder in her eye, then steal a kiss when you bent to check?”
Langford scowled at him.
“You can see the brilliance of my idea,” Adam said. “Have that little garden party, but do not invite her or that other one whose mother is probably plotting how to thoroughly compromise you now that the stakes have risen and time is of the essence.”
Langford narrowed his eyes on Adam. “Perhaps I will. I should also leave Marwood and his family off the guest list, so no one misunderstands my interest in his sister.”
