Page 47 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
He nodded, placing the portrait back on the desk. It was a relief to not to be holding it any longer.
“It was on top of a pile of papers,” he said. “The strange thing is I am sure I have opened that drawer before, and it was not there.” He frowned, trying to remember. “But then, perhaps I am mistaken in that. I have spent so little time in here, and my memory is so patchy after all…”
“Thatisstrange,” said Adaline. “I am sure you would remember it, if you had seen it there since the accident. It is not small, and the portrait is striking. Whoever the lady is, she is very lovely. Not a face anyone would forget in a hurry.”
He shrugged helplessly. “I thought that you might know her, and it could help me with my memory.” He picked up the portrait, staring down at it, for a long moment. “Yes, sheisstriking. I am sure if I had opened that drawer and seen her face there, I should recall it. But no matter. I am sure I will remember her in due time.” His voice was uncertain.
Adaline nodded, biting her lip. It wasn’t his imagination – she truly was uncomfortable in this room.
“How was your walk?” he asked gently, resisting the impulse to take her hand.
She smiled faintly. “It is wild out there,” she replied. “The wind has picked up. I was almost blown over.” She paused. “But it was beautiful, as well. I have always loved how the waves crash against the rocks when there is a strong wind. It is so elemental, witnessing nature in all its fury and its glory…”
“I wish I could accompany you,” he said, closing his eyes briefly. “I can almost picture it, when you speak.” He grimaced, opening his eyes. “But this chair would not get far in the sand, I fear. I simply cannot wait until my leg is fully healed and we can walk together again, staring at the horizon over the ocean…”
She smiled uncertainly, biting her lip again. “I would love to accompany you on such a walk, when you are better…”
“Wedidgo on walks together, prior to the accident, did we not?” He gazed at her steadily. “I cannot remember it, of course, but it would seem natural, and I could not imagine a better way to view the sea than with you by my side…”
She shifted from foot to foot. “Sometimes,” she said, staring at the ground. “But you were often busy in this study, James.” She hesitated. “It is close to luncheon, now. I believe that Reuben and Isabel have not yet returned from their excursion to the village. Do you wish to join me, or do you want to keep working here?”
“I will join you,” he said. “I will come to the dining room presently.”
She nodded, drifting out of the room without another word.
He watched her retreating figure pensively. Adaline was still such a mystery to him. A mystery that he needed to solve, if he ever wanted to return to some semblance of normal life with her.
He gazed down at the portrait of the woman. This lady was a mystery, too. And as much as he wanted to put her back in the drawer from whence she came, and close the lid on her forever, another part of him knew that he needed to discover who she was.
An awful thought suddenly struck him. Had he known this woman, in an intimate way, while he was married? Had he even had an affair with her, betraying his wife? Was that the reason that her portrait was in this room, and Adaline had no idea who she was?
His heart started to beat faster, and he felt almost sick. It was the worst thing that he could imagine…but now that the thought was in his head, he must find out the truth.
Adaline did not know who she was. But there was someone else in this house who might just have an inclination.
Reuben Montgomery, his lifelong friend.
He took a deep breath. There might be a possibility that he had confided in his friend about this woman. Even a possibility that Reuben knew her. He put the portrait away, in the drawer, resolved that he would ask Reuben about it when he had a chance.
Chapter 17
Reuben Montgomery gazed out of the window as the carriage lurched along the narrow, winding track, back towards Birkenhead Lodge, watching waves crash against the rocks below.
He shivered. The track was so narrow, it would only take a slight wrong turn of the horses for the whole carriage to go tumbling over the edge, crashing into a million pieces below. Resolutely, he turned away from the window, gazing at his sister, Isabel, who was seated opposite him, an abstracted expression on her face. She had been wearing it ever since they had climbed back into the carriage after their excursion to the local village.
“How did you enjoy Hemsworth, my dear?” he asked, just for something to say.
Isabel looked startled. She had obviously been lost in her own reverie, and had forgotten all about him as well.
She coughed slightly, into her hand. “I find it charming,” she replied. “It is so quaint, with its thatched roof houses. It seems a world away from the streets of Liverpool, with all the carts and carriages, and so many people.” She smiled, in that same maddeningly dreamy way.
He nodded. Isabel did seem to be enjoying life in the country, finding it a welcome change from the city. He was even somewhat confident that her health was improving since they had been here. But she had still insisted on visiting the local quack, Dr. Brown, while they had been in Hemsworth, saying that she needed a thorough examination.
He had been slightly irritated with her request. Dr. Brown was often in attendance at Birkenhead Lodge, since James’ accident, and Isabel could have taken him aside any time there and requested the examination. They had wasted over an hour at the doctor’s surgery, and now, they were probably too late for luncheon back at the house.
His stomach grumbled ominously. Knowing Adaline, she would probably have kept food for them in any case. It would be a simple matter of going to the kitchen to procure it. He smiled, as he thought about what a gracious hostess she was. She thought of her guests even when they weren’t there. She truly was the most superior of women.
He crossed his legs as his loins tightened, thinking about her. She was also the most spectacularly striking woman that he had ever beheld, with that wild gypsy colouring. Adaline looked like an exotic flower that had somehow bloomed, against the odds, in English soil. He didn’t think that he had ever beheld a woman quite like her before.
