“They went ahead of us in a separate carriage,” said Annabel. “Lenora was still feeling ill after the shrimp, and Perth’s cologne was offensive to her sensibilities.”
“Except Perth wasn’twearingany cologne,” Bridget chimed in with a sleepy grin.
“Which means it was just his smell that she didn’t like,” Annabel finished. “They got into a fight–”
“A minor disagreement.”
“–and here we are.”
Eloise leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Enclosed in silk and stuffed with cotton packing, it was softer than her pillow at home. “Marriages are strange.”
“I know,” Annabel sighed blissfully. “I cannotwaitto walk down the aisle.”
“So that you can turn over ownership of your body, future children, and any money or property you may inherit or earn?” Eloise’s eyes rolled behind her eyelids. “If I were you, I’d be running in the opposite direction.”
“Which is why you’re destined to end up in alone in a creaky old house filled with cats.”
“Sounds heavenly to me.”
“Marriage isn’t as terrible as you make it out to be, Eloise.” This from Bridget, who had been listening quietly. “Graham and I view ourselves as equal partners. We make decisions together. We parent together. We are planning our future together. While it isn’t easy all the time, I wouldn’t care to imagine my life without him. He completes me. We complete each other.”
Eloise groaned. “Hand me Lenora’s bucket. I’m going to hurl.”
“You’ll change your mind when you find the right person,” Annabel said confidently. “As soon as you meethim, it will be all flowers, rainbows, and kittens. Just wait and see. I, for one, shall be first in line to say I told you so.”
Against her will, Eloise found herself thinking about Adam. The way his eyes darkened when he was annoyed, which was most of the time that he was with her. The serious slant of his mouth and the lines that were permanently etched on either side it from too much scowling. The single tendril of black that liked to hang low over his brow, giving him an air of solemn rakishness. The low, gravelly growl of his voice when he was angry…or aroused.
When she felt a hot blush steal across her cheeks, she turned her head to the window and slunk low in her seat, feigning a sudden interest in the towering black gates of Hyde Park as they trotted briskly past.
Just because she found Adam physically appealing did not mean that he washim. This elusive, most likely mythical male creature that her sisters were determined was out there waiting for her. True love, soul mates, unicorns…in her mind, they were all part of the same category of nonsense. Fairytales that disillusioned mothers told their daughters in an effort to get them to make the same mistakestheyhad because misery liked nothing better than company.
Mother loved Father, a reasonable voice intruded into the murky cloud that she was allowing to obscure her vision.
Eloise set her jaw.
Her parents were the exception, not the rule.
Look at Lenora and Perth! Arguing over asmell. Surely it wouldn’t be long before Bridget and Graham, then Annabel and Ezra, were doing the same.
Passion, desire, lust…those were tangible entities that she could see, hear, smell, and taste. But love? The kind of love that supposedly existed between a man and a woman?Thatlove was obscure as stardust. And while she may have glanced at the night sky from time to time, Eloise’s feet were rooted firmly on the ground. No American was going to change that.
Not even the indomitable Adam St. Clair.
9
Clarenmore Park
Given Adam and Eloise’stumultuous history, including the remarkably stupid wager that he’d agreed to in a moment of pure and utter lunacy, Adam wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived at Clarenmore Park. But it sure as hell wasn’t a rooster sprung from the gates of hell going full bore at his nether regions the second he exited the carriage.
“What thefuck,” he exclaimed, leaping to the side when the rooster came at him with its head down and wings extended. “Get off!” He gave a hard kick that punted the bird up in the air, but no sooner had the rooster landed than it shook itself and came charging at him again. This time he feinted left and then went right, his boots kicking up a cloud of dust as he barely managed to keep the crazed fowl away from his private parts.
“I see you’ve met Sir Kensington,” drawled Perth as he stepped out from beneath the shade of an oak tree where he’d been presumably observing the entire affair. “Being attacked by him is a rite of passage around here.”
Adam glared at the rooster. The large bird, a glossy black with green feathering in its tail and bright red wattles dangling from its throat, puffed out its chest, scratched at the ground, and rolled one beady eye up to glare right back at him. If Adam didn’t know better, he would have sworn the rooster was challenging him to a duel.
“Why don’t you put it in a pot?” he asked, lifting his gaze to Perth.
Casually dressed in a white linen shirt, unbuttoned jacket, and necktie loosely knotted, the Duke of Monmouth was the epitome of a country gentleman. But while his attire and even his stance was casual (legs slightly apart, hands in his pockets, a lazy smile pulling his mouth to the side), his eyes were as sharp as Sir Kensington’s talons.
