Page 26 of The Dove
His teasing tone and downright giddy mood only served to further aggravate her. “I have never known younotto possess nefarious intentions.”
“You look bonny this afternoon,” he said conversationally. “New hat? It looks quite expensive.”
She snorted. “It was one I owned before having met you, so do not think to take any credit for it. When my mother left Fairchild House, she made sure to pack my belongings and bring them with her to my aunt’s residence. I was able to procure them from her when I returned to London.”
“Ah,” he replied, his tone still light and jovial. “Is the countess enjoying her newfound freedom as much as you seem to be enjoying yours?”
She turned her head to look at him, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Your quarrel is with my brother and my father … you are to leave her out of any of our dealings. Do you understand? She is off limits, Adam.”
He raised his eyebrows at her, suddenly serious. “If there’s any member of your family who is safe from me, it is your mother, Daphne. Anything she has suffered has been due to mere proximity, nothing more. I hold no grudge against a woman who never had the sense to fly free of her own cage.”
The furrows in her brow softened as she looked at him and realized he meant what he said. It also did not escape her that he seemed to see Daphne’s mother the way she did—a woman who had never had the courage to step outside of convention, to be herself, to challenge the men ruling her life. It had made her weak and naive … two traits Daphne could proudly say did not apply to her any longer.
“Thank you,” she murmured, tearing her gaze away from his.
One shred of decency did not make him a good person. It did not give her leave to love him like some masochistic idiot.
They rode in silence for a time, with Adam navigating the roads and Daphne staring unseeingly at the passing scenery. Her mind wandered, and she found herself daydreaming about him touching her, sliding one of those leather-clad hands beneath her gown and taking hold of one of her thighs, digging his fingers into the tender flesh.
Blinking and shaking her head, she snapped out of her reverie, annoyed with herself for sinking so low. In his presence for barely a quarter of an hour and already, her mind had turned to carnal matters.
“I want you to know that if I were able, I’d keep you safe from it, too,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “My wrath, I mean … but, you’re too tangled up in it now, little dove. I cannot make a move toward him without treading on you, too.”
She frowned, dread making her blood run cold while her mind raced to try to decipher his cryptic words. “What do you mean? What’s happening, Adam?”
He spared her a quick glance and sighed. “Bertram. He’s made it clear that he has not learned from his past mistakes.”
She gritted her teeth, both worried and annoyed at the mention of her idiot of a brother. Why could he not quietly slink into the shadows and lick his wounds? Could he not see that provoking Adam would not end well for him?
“Does it matter?” she asked. “He is ruined, and will never be the same. Even when he inherits the earldom, it will come with nothing but debt and a tarnished legacy. Can’t that be enough for you?”
His jaw tensed, the leather of his gloves creaking as he tightened his fingers around the reins. “No. Not when he still walks about with that smug sense of entitlement … the bloodyarrogancethat makes him operate under the delusion that he’s better than the rest despite the things he’s done.”
“That makesyouthe better man,” she whispered, knowing her words fell on deaf ears … knowing his was the sort of anger that could not be reasoned with. “And it doesn’t mean you haven’t won. You got what you wanted … it has to end someday.”
He nodded in agreement. “Aye … someday. But not today, little dove. Not until I’ve taken the rest.”
Gazing down at her hands, she folded them in her lap and tried to get a hold of herself. If Adam was on the warpath again, that meant she stood in the crossfire as she had before—trapped in the never-ending battle between him and her brother.
“When?” she asked. “When should I expect you to make your first move?”
He reached out to her, the warm, soft leather of his gloves caressing her jaw as he lifted her chin and looked her in the eye. She saw not an ounce of regret in his gaze as he answered her, his voice a low, gruff rumble that made her stomach twist.
“Right now, little dove.”
It took her a moment to realize what he could mean … how she’d managed to step into yet another one of his traps. Turning her gaze to the lane before them, she released a strangled cry, the twisting in her gut turning into a sinking feeling that made her feel as if she would be violently ill.
They rode down one of the several lanes leading into Hyde Park—which, at this time of day, was filled wall to wall with members of thetonout to see and be seen.
Turning back to him, her chin trembled, her resolve crumbling as she realized what he was about. “Could you not have warned me first?”
He stroked her cheek for a moment before dropping his hand with a tight smile. “Would you have gotten in the carriage if I had?”
No, she would not have gotten inside an open-air barouche, on full display at his side as they made slow progress down the lane while being gawked at by every person who passed them.
On foot, on horseback, and in vehicles, the faces of thetonswam before her unfocused eyes. Women whispered behind gloved hands, and men smirked knowingly at her, as if undressing her with their eyes. Of course they did … these men thought her a plaything, a whore, a bit of skirt to be passed around when Adam was finished with her.
And for all intents and purposes, it now appeared as if he wasnotdone with her. She had not agreed to be his mistress, but she might as well have for all the damage this would do to the remains of her reputation.
