Innocent in the Regency Ballroom. Christine Merrill

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      ‘That is none of your business, little brother.’

      William nodded. ‘I thought not. It is not a true marriage, but you have too much pride to admit the mistake.’

      ‘This has nothing to do with pride.’

      ‘Neither does it have to do with a sudden affection.’

      Adam laughed. ‘Affection? You expect me to marry for love, then?’

      Will ceased his pacing and leaned over the desk, his fists planted on the wood. ‘I think it is reasonable that there be at least a fondness between the two people involved. And it is plain that none exists between the two of you. You sat there at dinner with a false smile, pretending nothing was wrong, and she could barely look up from her plate.’

      ‘We have an understanding.’

      ‘That is rich.’ Will snapped. ‘She married you for your title, and you married her for her money. We can all claim the same understanding, for the fact is perfectly obvious to everyone who cares to look.’

      ‘It is more complicated than that.’

      ‘Do you mean to enlighten me as to how?’

      Adam thought of the condition he’d been in when he’d made the decision to marry. And the condition just before, when he’d meant to end his life. ‘No, I do not.

      That is something between my wife and myself.’

      ‘Your wife.’ Will snorted.

      Adams hands tightened on the arms of his chair until he was sure that his fingers must leave marks in the wood. ‘My wife, William. And I will thank you not to take that tone when referring to her. Despite what it may appear, I did not marry her for her money, any more than she sought to be a duchess. That we are both so blessed is a most fortunate occurrence, and I have no intention to annul. Lord knows, the estate needs the money she brings with her, and she has no objections to my using it.’

      ‘So you will tie yourself to a woman that you do not love, just to keep the estate going.’

      Adam stared at him, hardly understanding. ‘Of course I would. If it meant that I could rebuild the house and protect the tenants until the next harvest time. Her money will mean the difference between success and failure this year.’

      ‘What are the tenants to you, Adam? It is not as though they are family. And the manor is only a house.’

      ‘It is my birthright,’ Adam said. ‘And I will do what is necessary to protect it. If it were you, would you not?’

      William stared back at him, equally confused. ‘I thank God every day that your title did not come to me. I have no desire to possess your lands, Adam.’

      ‘But if it were to fall to you?’ he pressed.

      ‘Do not say that. For that would mean that you were dead. You are not ill, are you? Your line of questioning disturbs me.’

      Adam waved his hand. ‘No, no, I am not ill. It is only a rhetorical question. Do not read so much into it.’

      ‘Then I will answer truthfully. No, I would not marry just for the sake of the title. Do not think you can marry for money to a woman you cannot bring yourself to bed, and then force me to be Bellston when you die without an heir. I would as soon see it all revert to the crown than become a slave to the land, as you are.’

      Slavery? It was an honour. How could Will not understand? ‘Search your heart and answer again. For it is quite possible that the whole thing will come to you, at any rate.’

      Will waved the suggestion away. ‘Not for long. If you mean to escape your responsibility with a hypothetical and untimely death, then two of us can play the game. I would rather die than inherit.’

      Adam paused to thank God for the timely intervention of Penelope and her wild scheme. His death would have served no purpose if it had forced Will to take such action as he threatened. And he would not have wanted the heir he saw before him now. Will had always seemed so strong. Why had he never noticed that he was selfish as well?

      Will continued. ‘I suggest again that you seek an annulment if you do not wish for a legitimate heir from this poor woman. It is not fair to her, nor to me, for you to play with our fates in such a way, so that you can buy slate for your roof.’

      Adam tried one last time. ‘But if it falls to you …’

      ‘I will take whatever measures are necessary to see that it does not.’

      Damn it to hell. Here was another thing that he would have to contend with. Until now, he had assumed that there would be no problem with the succession. He had thought no further than the immediate crisis, just as he had thought no further when attempting suicide.

      He must learn to play a longer game if he wished to succeed.

      He looked to his brother again. ‘I do not mean to abandon this life just yet, so you need not fear an inheritance. I had no idea that you felt so strongly about it.’

      ‘I do.’

      ‘Very well, then. No matter what may occur, you will not be the next duke. But neither do I intend to abandon my current plan just yet. The heir situation will sort itself out eventually, I suspect.’

      ‘Do you, now?’ His brother laughed. ‘If you think it can sort itself out without some intervention on your part, then you are as cloth-headed as I’ve come to suspect. You wife is waiting in your bed, Adam. Let the sorting begin.’

       Chapter Seven

      Penny tried to put the mess downstairs behind her as she climbed the stairs to her room. William Felkirk had made little effort to disguise his distaste for her and was no doubt pouring poison in his brother’s ears on the subject of marriage to upstart title hunters.

      There was little she could do about it if Adam chose to listen. An acquaintance of several days and a trumped-up marriage were not equal to a bond of blood. She could only wait to see if he came to her room to explain that it had been a mistake, that he was terribly sorry, and that they would be undoing today’s work in the morning.

      She looked at her bedchamber and sighed, nearly overcome with exhaustion. No matter the outcome, she needed a warm bed and a good night’s sleep. But the room in front of her was as cold and dark as it had been earlier in the day. If there was fuel available, she could manage to lay her own fire, but she could see by the light of her candle that the hearth and grate were empty. Not an ash remained.

      She looked in trepidation at the connecting door to her husband’s room. If she could borrow some coal and a Lucifer from his fire, and perhaps a little water from the basin, she could manage until the servants came back in the morning.

      She knocked once; when there was no answer she pushed the door open and entered.

      The bed had been turned down and a fire laid, despite the servants’ day off. It was warm and cheerful, ready for occupation, and nothing like the room she had just left. There was a crystal bowl on the night table filled with red roses, and stray petals sprinkled the counterpane. СКАЧАТЬ