Not once did he mention his father’s death or the cause of it. She began to think that perhaps, just maybe, it would not take another generation for the old memories to fade. They might do it together. They might forever find common ground, if they tried.
A groom waited to take her horse, as always. A footman opened the door. No formality greeted her, however. She strode to the stairs and went up to Adam’s apartment. Old-fashioned like the whole house, at least these chambers had been redone in the last century. Gilt carvings festooned the bed’s massive headboard with abandon. The moldings dissolved into arabesques of leafing tendrils. The entire apartment presented an environment of excess and decadence.
He still lay abed. The drapes had not even been opened. She went over and sat on the bed, and he unfastened her habit. She stripped it off, and her chemise, and climbed into bed with him.
“I wish you could stay here and be spared all this dressing and undressing,” he said after a kiss. “I would have you all the time then.”
“We would have to pay the devil not to be found out. Besides, I have taken to not wearing stays, so the dressing part is easier now.” So was naughty play later in the day if they chose.
“What is the worst that could happen if we are discovered? Your brother demands I marry you?”
That probably was the worst that could happen. This morning, after the heightened familiarity of this week and the depths of their intimacy, it did not sound so bad.
“We would stay here together and ride and swim and shoot during the day and be scandalous at night,” he said. “You could redecorate this old pile and renovate the gardens, and I could reclaim my place with the estate and the county.”
“It is sounding very domestic.”
“Isn’t it? It all has great appeal to me.” He glanced sideways at her.
It had appeal to her too. Mostly because he left out the parts that did not.
“Or if you won’t stay, you could ride like Godiva and be spared any dressing at all,” he said.
“That would be a fine sight for the tenants.”
“They would be in awe. There you would be, riding out of the mist in the early morning, your hair flying behind you, all creamy on that black horse. You would look like something out of a myth or a dream. Legends would start. Hundreds of years hence farmers would tell about the naked fairy who came with the spring.”
“What an imagination you have. You should be writing poems or novels.”
“What can I say, you inspire me.” He pulled her close to him. “I am far better at creative pleasure than poetry, however. I am wondering if you might be too.”
He proved what he meant. His mouth aroused her with devastating precision. She had no defenses anymore with him and succumbed quickly to whatever he did. This morning she had arrived so eager and full of joy that one smoldering gaze might have left her breathless. As it turned out, he had much more in mind.
His kisses moved in a hot trail down her body. She knew what he would do, but he moved so slowly that she moaned with impatience. He did not move down her body, either, but bent to kiss her stomach, and lower.
Hot breath on her mound. A firm hold on her hip. He turned her to her side, then turned himself as well so they faced each other upside down. He lifted her knee over his shoulder and sent her screaming into delirium. Even in her daze she realized this odd position allowed her to caress him. She took his phallus into her hands to give pleasure in return. The more she pleased him, the more he gave her, until finally she used her mouth too, first with kisses, then with more, while his tongue astonished her again and again.
* * *
Adam rose from the bed while Clara slept. He went to the dressing room and pulled on trousers, boots, and a shirt. He left just as his valet hurried in, carrying one of his banyans. He returned to the bedchamber, picked up Clara’s riding habit and chemise, and laid them on the nearby chair. He placed the banyan on top of them.
He left the apartment through the dressing room. “Do not disturb her. Leave hot water here, then make yourself scarce. I will be in the old study.”
He went down the stairs and wound through the chambers to the beamed room with the boxes.
Since he arrived he had examined every hiding place once more, looking for the missing jewelry. Nothing of such value had been found. Then he had begun the long chore of looking through his father’s personal papers. He faced those boxes again and pulled one toward him.
When the butler at Kengrove Abbey packed all of this, he had begun with the most recent papers and worked backward through time. That meant the oldest material had been on top, and Adam’s examination had moved forward through the years. If he did not sift through quickly, it was because each letter revealed something about his father. Even the reports from the stewards opened little windows.
The most interesting items had been letters from his mother, written before they married. Sent from France, she reported on the mood abroad in her country and expressed her concerns. Not love letters as such, they read as warm and affectionate communications between friends. He had set those aside to give to her when next he saw her.
He sat behind the boxes and removed a big stack from one of the last ones. Within ten minutes he realized that he had before him the papers from the last year of his father’s life. There were a lot, and many letters from other lords. He unfolded each one and read it.
In some, people begged off a party his mother had planned. In others, peers pointedly set aside the rumors and wrote on about bills to be discussed. The tone began changing, however. One man wrote to break their friendship. Another bluntly referred to the smell of treason. Then for several months, there were no letters at all.
Finally he found the reason why. A long letter in a fine hand began with regrets over the difficulties an old friend faced. However, it then gently gave bad news.Marwood sent a man to France, unbeknownst to anyone, I assure you. No minister approved this mission, and more than one is angry for the interference and the earl’s insistence on stirring once again this cauldron of innuendo. Unfortunately his man found the pawnshop at which the jewels were sold and retrieved a description that, along with the pawnkeeper’s explanation of their heritage as given to him, ties them directly to you. It is all around town, and I beg you to remain in Surrey until the worst passes. I regret that I must inform you of this, but you need to know. It is time, old friend, to discover what you can about these events so you are not impugned for others’ actions.It was signedBrentworth.
It touched him that the last Brentworth had remained a friend to the end and even assumed the rumors were untrue despite new evidence to the contrary. The last sentence loomed large, however.If not you, then who?
