Love and Marriage Read online

  After all, she had been born into a notoriously scandalous family. Lord Morrow was a lecher and a drunkard who readily made a fool of himself among society. Lady Morrow was hardly better with her eccentric habit of painting nude young men in her own drawing room. Even her elder brother had managed to cause gossip when he had set up household with a married countess and her five children.

  How could he not be concerned by the distasteful influence her upbringing must have had upon Addy?

  Especially when their marriage was not based upon mutual affection, but instead had been arranged years before by their respective grandfathers?

  Addy was a tempestuous beauty with an impulsive nature, which he had often rued. It would be all too easy for her to blunder into scandal without realizing the danger to their position in society. It only made sense to avert disaster before it was too late.

  All very reasonable. Unfortunately he had miscalculated the effects of his well-intended efforts.

  Addy had indeed become the very model of propriety. Her bold, dashing manner was now thoroughly subdued. She dressed modestly, her raven curls were painfully scraped into a knot and she rarely left the townhouse.

  Precisely what he requested, but Adam could not deny that beneath the cool composure a deep resentment smoldered within Addy’s heart. A resentment that kept a firm barrier between them and surprisingly sent uncomfortable prickles of guilt rushing through him.

  Even more surprising, he discovered himself regretting the disturbing loss of Addy’s infectious love for life. It was one thing to request she behave in a manner befitting her position and quite another to see her fading to a mere shadow before his very eyes.

  At last a soft knock on the door brought an end to his dark thoughts. Glancing at the gilded clock on the mantel he realized that it was precisely nine o’clock, the hour he met with Addy each morning.

  Although he suspected his wife considered their daily meeting rather like a reluctant child forced to confront an overbearing parent, he continued to insist she make an appearance.

  It was not that he desired to create further ill will between them, he thought wearily. Heaven knew that he felt chilled to the bone when she was near. But perhaps absurdly he continued to hold the faint hope that they might eventually establish a closer relationship.

  Addy was his wife. For better or worse they were stuck together. He did not believe he could endure fifty years of their armed truce.

  Smoothing his expression to polite lines he watched Addy slip into the room and obediently move to settle in the chair across the desk from him. This morning she was attired in a dove gray gown with her hair ruthlessly pulled atop her head. Only the heavy gold bracelet that encircled her wrist added a dash of color, a bracelet that had been a gift from her wretched father. He smothered a sigh at the pallor of her lovely countenance and the unmistakable shadows beneath the midnight black eyes.

  Gads, to look at her one would presume he beat her at least once a day.

  “Good morning, Addy,” he forced himself to murmur in cool tones. “I hope that you slept well?”

  She folded her hands in her lap and reluctantly met his gaze. “Quite well, thank you.”

  He studied how thin her countenance had become. “You appear somewhat pale. I hope that you have not caught a chill? The weather has been very unpredictable this spring.”

  She shrugged aside his concern. “My constitution has always been quite sturdy. ’Tis certain a few showers are not enough to make me ill.”

  He smiled with rueful humor. “Yes, I recall how you used to love walking in the rain. Usually barefoot with your hair hanging down your back.”

  “I was very much the hoyden when I was young,” she retorted stiffly, as if presuming he were somehow censuring her youthful exuberance. “I assure you I no longer run through the rain with or without my shoes.”

  Adam’s smile faltered. Blast it all. What did he have to do to soothe her prickly defenses?

  “No, I realize that you have become all that is proper.”

  “That was what your requested, was it not?”

  “So I did.” He paused before leaning his arms upon the desk and regarding her with a growing sense of frustration. “I did not mean, however, that you were forced to become a mere ghost of yourself, nor that you imprison yourself in this townhouse. Do you have plans for today?”

  Her chin tilted in a familiar defensive manner. “I shall go over the menu with Cook and see that the linens are aired.”

  “Such tasks can be easily put off,” he retorted. “Surely you would prefer to go out?”

  “Where would I go? I know few people in London.”

  “There are several places of interest. You could visit a few of the more notable sights. Tower of London. St. Paul’s Cathedral. Or perhaps you would prefer an afternoon at the museum?”

  “On my own?” she demanded. “That would surely look odd to the rest of society?”

  Adam breathed out a harsh sigh. “You are right, of course,” he acknowledged, knowing he had too readily used his duties with the War Department as an excuse to abandon his bride. In his defense, however, she did not bother to hide her preference for his absence from their home. “I shall arrange my schedule so that I will be free to accompany you later in the week. I have been quite remiss not to introduce you to a few ladies who would include you in their activities.”

  He had meant his words as an apology, but with a jerky motion Addy rose to her feet.

  “That is not necessary, Adam. I realize you are very busy.”

  “Meaning you would prefer that I did not make the effort?”

  “Meaning that I understand that you do not have the time.” She conjured a cold smile. “Now, if you will excuse me I must speak with Mrs. Hall.”

  Adam opened his mouth to argue. Could she not bend even a little?

  Then he gave a weary shake of his head. He had learned that pressing Addy only drove her further away.

  “Of course. I shall see you at dinner.”

  He watched as she scurried from the room, then pulled his schedule toward him. He had wasted an entire morning on futile regrets. Until Addy chose to make an effort to respond to his tentative peace offerings there was nothing he could do.

  In the meantime he had on his mind the thousands of soldiers who depended upon the efforts of the War Department to see them home safely. Such responsibility could not be taken lightly. It was his duty to do his job to the very best of his ability.

  He swiftly finished the schedule and sifted through the morning’s correspondence. At last satisfied that he had dealt with the most pressing details he meticulously cleared his desk. Storing away his quill he was abruptly interrupted when the thin, stiff-faced butler entered the library and offered a creaking bow.

  “Pardon me, sir. A Vicar Humbly has requested to see you.”

  Adam felt a jolt of shock. Vicar Humbly? In London? Good God, he had known Humbly all his life. It was nearly inconceivable that the vague, rather unworldly Vicar would travel such a distance. He would wager his last quid the old man had not spent more than one night away from the Vicarage.

  “Show him in, Chatson,” he commanded.

  “Very good.”

  Adam rose to his feet and walked round the desk as he awaited the arrival of Humbly. It had been months since he had last seen the old Vicar. Not since his wedding, he realized with a vague pang.

  Within moments Chatson returned with a short, decidedly stout gentleman. Adam smiled at the rumpled black coat and wispy gray hairs that stood on end. Humbly always managed to appear as if he had just crawled from beneath a bush.

  “Humbly. Welcome,” Adam murmured, moving forward to shake hands with his unexpected guest.

  “Thank you, Adam.” Humbly flashed a sweet smile as he absently patted his crumpled cravat. “I hope I do not intrude?”

  “Certainly not. Although I must confess this is an unexpected surprise.”

  A faintly befuddled expression crossed the Vi
car’s round countenance.

  “Then you did not receive my note? How wretchedly awkward. I was certain I had posted it before I left Surrey. Of course, the mail coach is never quite as predictable as one would hope. I must offer my apologies for descending upon you in such a fashion.”

  Adam waved aside the rambling apology. To be honest, he was pleased to see his old friend. Despite Humbly’s vague, rather foolish manner he possessed an odd ability to strike directly at the truth of a matter.

  “Think nothing of it. I hope you intend to remain with us for a visit? I know Addy would be pleased to have a familiar face about.”

  “Well, I should not wish to be a burden,” the Vicar faintly protested. “Although I have never married, I do know that newly wedded couples prefer their privacy.”

  Adam gave an unwittingly revealing grimace. “Do not fear, Humbly. Addy will be delighted to have a guest. Please, have a seat.”

  With a rather searching gaze Humbly lowered his bulk onto a sturdy chair. Adam swiftly smoothed any expression from his features as he leaned against his desk.

  “I hope you had a pleasant trip to town?”

  “No, indeed. Quite ghastly. Not only did the coachman insist upon traveling at an indecent pace, he halted at the most wretched posting inn. I would swear the food had been found in a nearby gutter and on top of it all, I fear I somehow managed to lose my best hat and at least one of my cravats.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “I shall no doubt receive a dreadful scolding when I return to the Vicarage. Mrs. Stalwart does not seem to comprehend how difficult it is to keep one’s things about one.”

  Adam couldn’t prevent a small chuckle as he thought of the formidable widow who ruled the Vicarage was well as poor Humbly.

  “Perhaps you will have the opportunity to replace them while you are in town.”

  The Vicar immediately cheered. “A capital notion. Yes, indeed. That is precisely what I shall do.”

  Adam tilted his head to one side. “Had I known you were coming to London I would have gladly sent my own carriage to fetch you. Is there a particular reason you came to town?”

  “Oh, a bit of business with the Bishop.” He waved a plump hand. “I am soon to retire, you know.”

  Adam felt a stab of shock. Brenville without Vicar Humbly? It was impossible to imagine.

  “No, I did not know. It will be a sad loss.”

  The Vicar reddened with pleasure. “Thank you, Adam, but I am certain the new Vicar will be a blessing. He seems to be very energetic and quite determined to put the church in order. The dear Lord knows that I have never been very efficient with records and such. They are in sad disarray.” The sherry brown eyes suddenly widened. “Come to think of it, he reminds me somewhat of you, Adam. Very practical and organized.”

  Adam abruptly stiffened, his features tight. “He has my sympathy.”

  “Eh?” Humbly blinked in surprise.

  With a restless shrug Adam pushed himself from the desk and paced toward a window that overlooked the back garden.

  “I have come to realize that I am a rather tedious fellow with all my practical notions and adherence to schedules.”

  “Nonsense,” Humbly protested with gratifying sincerity. “You are a very responsible and worthy gentleman.”

  Adam studied the roses just coming into bloom. “Not all would think so.”

  “Well, we cannot please all of God’s children,” the Vicar said briskly.

  The image of Addy’s pale, unhappy face rose to his mind. “No, I suppose not.”

  As if able to read his very thoughts, Humbly cleared his throat. “Tell me how Addy is.”

  “She is well,” he forced himself to say as he turned back to meet his guest’s curious gaze.

  “I suppose that she has taken London by storm? Such a charming and vibrant child.”

  “Actually we have not attended many social events. I have been quite occupied with my work.”

  The older man looked vaguely embarrassed, as if he sensed he had unknowingly pressed a tender nerve.

  “Of course. You no doubt have little time to devote to such foolishness. Perfectly understandable.”

  “To tell the truth I have begun to consider the notion that I have been remiss in not introducing Addy to society,” he confessed. “Your visit will be the perfect opportunity to correct my oversight.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t change your schedule for me.”

  “It is a long overdue change,” he assured Humbly. “I will speak with Liverpool. He will not be pleased, but I am certain they will muddle along just fine without my constant presence.”

  There was the sound of approaching footsteps then, the ever efficient housekeeper marched into the room to place a heavy tray upon a table near the Vicar.

  “Here we are, sir,” she said in cheerful tones. “I thought your guest might be in need of some refreshment.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hall. Will you inform my wife that we have a guest?”

  “Of course.”

  With brisk motions the housekeeper left the room and Adam waved a hand toward the vast array of delicacies that filled the room with tantalizing aroma.

  “Please help yourself, Humbly.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps I will have a cup of tea.” Leaning forward, the Vicar poured a cup of tea then gave a sudden exclamation of delight. “Oh my, are those lemon tarts?”

  Adam smiled. “Yes. And I can assure you that they are quite good.”

  “Lovely.” Piling a plate with several of the tarts Humbly took a large bite and closed his eyes in pleasure. “Ah, yes. Delicious.”

  Adam politely remained silent as the Vicar indulged himself in the delicate pastries. It was clearly a treat for the older man.

  It was several moments before Addy at last stepped through the door and regarded him with guarded puzzlement.

  “You sent for me?”

  “Yes.” He moved to stand at her side. “As you can see we have a most welcome guest.”

  Turning her head she noted the plump gentleman struggling to his feet. A wide smile abruptly curved her lips as she rushed forward to give their guest a swift hug.

  “Mr. Humbly.”

  “Addy, my dear. How delightful it is to see you again.”

  “This is a lovely surprise.”

  The older man gave a charming grimace. “Well, it was not intended to be a surprise at all, but once again my well-devised plans have gone awry. I can only pray that you will take pity upon an old vicar.”

  Addy gave a click of her tongue. “You must know you are always welcome here.”

  “How very kind.” Stepping back Humbly studied the young woman in a thorough manner. “My, how very sophisticated you have become. Nothing at all like the gypsy who left Surrey.”

  Adam watched Addy stiffen at the soft words. “You must compliment Adam,” she said in a low voice. “He chose my entire wardrobe.”

  Although Humbly could not have missed the sudden tension in the air, he merely smiled in his kindly way.

  “Well, he always did possess exquisite taste, which he displayed when he chose you for a wife.”

  Addy’s lips twisted. “Yes.”

  Unwilling to drag the poor Vicar into their marital woes, Adam abruptly stepped forward.

  “I have been telling Humbly that we must find a means of keeping him entertained. Perhaps you will be so kind as to sort through our various invitations and select a few that our guest would enjoy?”

  The dark gaze flashed in his direction with a measure of surprise. “I thought your schedule was too full to include invitations?”

  “I will speak with Liverpool today. I am certain that I can manage an evening or two during the week.”

  There was a pause before she gave a shrug. “If you wish.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to offer Humbly a bow. “I fear I must be on my way. I do hope you will make yourself at home.”

  “Yes, yes. Very kind,” Humbly murmured.

  Turning slightly he met his wif
e’s narrowed gaze. “Addy, may I have a word?”

  She gave a cool nod of her head. “Of course.”

  In silence she followed him from the room and down the stairs to the foyer. At last Adam halted to study Addy’s pale countenance.

  “I wished to assure myself that Humbly’s visit will not be too taxing for you.”

  She blinked in genuine surprise at his soft question. “Of course not. I am delighted he has arrived.”

  “If you are certain. I could always put him up at a hotel.”

  She gave a firm shake of her head. “No. It will be nice to have someone about the house.”

  Adam could easily determine she was indeed pleased at the thought of Humbly’s visit. There was a glow in the midnight eyes that he had not seen in far too long.

  His hand rose to stroke the softness of her cheek only to drop at the realization she was more than likely to freeze at his touch rather than be comforted. He knew from bitter experience that she found their intimate relationship a mere duty to be endured with silent dignity.

  “Addy, I realize that I have neglected you,” he confessed in tight tones. “In truth I did not consider how isolated you would feel in London.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “You have been very busy.”

  “Yes. Perhaps too busy,” he retorted in dry tones. Would things be different between Addy and himself if he hadn’t succumbed to the pressures of the War Department? Impossible to say, he conceded with an unconscious shake of his head. “I will speak with Liverpool today.”

  “There is no need, Adam. I am certain that the Vicar and I can keep one another entertained.”

  His lips thinned with barely restrained annoyance. “I do not doubt that. Humbly has already accomplished what I have been striving to achieve for months.”

  Her expression was guarded. “What?”

  “He has brought a smile to your face.” He gave a stiff bow. “I will return for dinner.”

  Turning on his heel he snatched his hat and gloves from the side table and walked out the door.