Candice Hern (14 page)

"No. Are you?"

He chuckled. "No. But I can see that she might find him attractive. He's a fine-looking chap, is he not?"

Marianne stopped and looked up at him. "Adam? Are you actually singing a man's praises for once instead of finding some ludicrous objection to him?"

Adam shot her an enigmatic look, then tugged her forward again to resume walking. "Sherwood's not a bad fellow."

"High praise, indeed! Let us hope I can fix his interest."

Adam nodded, and Marianne knew that was as close to an endorsement as she would ever receive from him. She was aware that he did not approve of her plan. It was probably difficult for him to think of her with anyone but David, and it was likely he thought she was betraying his friend's memory by considering a lover. His disapproval had been obvious from the start. Marianne often wished she'd never told him about it.

"Ah, and here is Mother," Adam said as Viola Cazenove strolled toward them on the arm of Adam's father. "All my favorite ladies are in attendance this evening."

Marianne removed her arm from his so he could greet his parents. His mother was a handsome woman, still slender and elegant, whose silver hair blended with the natural gold into a beautiful shade the color of pale champagne. Marianne had always envied the way fair-haired women aged. Brunettes like herself were faced with years of salt-and-pepper streaks and finally pure silver — much more aging than champagne gold. She wondered if she would resort to hair dye when her time came.

Adam kissed his mother's cheek and shook his father's hand. "Hullo, Father. Looking hale and hearty as ever, I see," he said with a sly grin.

"Not too bad," Hugh Cazenove said. "Not too bad."

Adam's father did indeed appear to be in fine health. He had thick, white hair — worn a shade too long, just like his son — and bright green eyes that twinkled as he spoke. He was a tall, good-looking man with only a bit of extra weight around his middle, straining against the buttons of his waistcoat.

"And Mrs. Nesbitt," he said, "what a pleasure to see you again. Another very fine ball you ladies have given us."

Marianne offered her hand and he bowed over it. "It is good to see you, too, sir. And you, Mrs. Cazenove."

"You look lovely, as always," Adam's mother said with a friendly smile. "It is nice to see you wearing beautiful colors again, my dear."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Hugh Cazenove's gaze followed Adam's to the dance floor. "Are you not pleased for my son, Mrs. Nesbitt?" he said, beaming with pride. "Is not Miss Leighton-Blair a beautiful girl? Only see how the boy cannot take his eyes off her."

"It's a good match," his wife said, smiling as she watched Clarissa in the dance.

"And about time, too," Adam's father said.

"You cannot rush these things, my love," Mrs. Cazenove said. "Our Adam had to find the right girl. We used to hold you and David Nesbitt up as an example," she said to Marianne. "We so wanted him to find as perfect a partner as David had." Her eyes strayed back to the dancers. "I hope he has done so."

Marianne did not miss the hint of uncertainty in her voice. She looked to Adam only to find his brow creased in a frown as he watched Clarissa.

"Of course he has," his father said. "The girl is a picture. Lovely little thing, is she not?"

"She is very beautiful," Marianne said. "Adam is the envy of every gentleman this Season."

"Ha!" His father clapped him on the back. "I knew it would be so. Well done, my boy. Well done."

"I see Lady Dewsbury across the room," Adam's mother said. "I must have a word with her. Will you excuse us, please?"

After they'd gone, Adam and Marianne resumed their walk. Marianne was tempted to ask about his mother's opinion of the match with Clarissa, but thought better of it. She had said enough on that subject.

They strolled in comfortable silence for a while, watching the dancers. Adam's eyes seemed to be constantly on Clarissa. Marianne wondered if she had been wrong about their betrothal. Was he in fact besotted with the girl? Was his heart involved after all?

He looked down and caught her watching him, then smiled ruefully. "I took her to Somerset House yesterday to see the new paintings."

"Oh?" Marianne had not yet had time to view the new exhibition. She used to look forward to it every year, when she and David and Adam would go together and then have long, animated discussions about all they saw. It was bigger than the annual British Institution exhibitions that both men had sponsored, and was given more importance by the critics because of its association with academicians rather than connoisseurs. It was often the more enjoyable
because
they were not involved financially. They went simply to appreciate the art. Last year Adam had taken her alone, and she had secretly hoped he would do so again this year. She must become accustomed to Adam's giving Clarissa precedence.

"I am looking forward to seeing it," she said. "The new Wilkie is getting a lot of attention in the journals."

"Yes, and not all of it flattering," he said. "But I found the piece charming and full of life. It's a vibrant work, reminiscent of Watteau. You will like it. There is also an intriguing work by Dawe of a child rescued by its mother from an eagle's nest. Very melodramatic. The critics are raving, but you will scoff at its sentimentality. Oh, and there are several new portraits by Lawrence."

"Good ones?"

"Quite good."

"Oh, you are a wretch for telling me. You know my weakness for Lawrence. I must contrive a visit to Somerset House very soon."

"I would be happy to escort you, my dear."

"Thank you, Adam, I would like that."

"And perhaps you would like to accompany Clarissa and me on Thursday when we visit the Institution to view the preparations for the Reynolds exhibit. A majority of the paintings are on site already."

Marianne laughed. "I do not think that is a good idea. Did I tell you Mrs. Leighton-Blair's insinuations when she and Clarissa called on me last week?"

"Insinuations?"

"Well, that is how it sounded to me. She asked a great many questions about my friendship with you. I believe she has misconstrued our relationship, and I told her so."

Adam groaned.

"She claimed to have no such concerns," Marianne continued, "but I could sense she thought I was some sort of threat to your relationship with Clarissa. With that in mind, I doubt she would be happy to learn that I had been on your other arm while you guided her daughter through the Institution gallery."

"I would claim you to be our chaperone," he said, smiling wickedly.

She laughed. "I hardly think that would suit. I shall find another escort." She cast her eyes meaningfully in the direction of Lord Julian Sherwood.

"I am sorry about Clarissa's mother," Adam said. "Perhaps I should have a reassuring word with her."

"I think that would only encourage her to believe there is more to our friendship than meets the eye. It would probably be best to say nothing at all."

"I suppose she is glaring at us from some dark corner at this very moment," he said.

"Then she will see nothing untoward. We are merely strolling and talking in full view of the entire assembly."

"I could give a surreptitious squeeze to your lovely bottom as we pass by her."

Marianne laughed. "Don't you dare."

"I won't." Adam lowered his voice to a buttery soft and seductive tone that washed over her like warm honey. "But in that clingy dress, you make it
very
tempting."

Marianne's breath came out in a squeaky little sigh and she had to turn away to compose herself. She had thought she was becoming accustomed to the varying degrees of sexual tension that so often charged the air between men and women, that tension of which she'd only recently become aware. But with Adam it was always stronger, always more unsettling, when it ought to be comfortable and playful since he was only teasing. She sincerely wished one of the other gentlemen who showed an interest in her could give her the same tingly feeling Adam so often did.

They walked in silence a while longer until Marianne happened to glance up and catch Adam in a frown. "What is it?" she asked. "What is troubling you? Is it something your mother said?"

"Ah, you caught that, did you? It may please you to know that she has some of the same doubts you expressed about my betrothal."

"It does not please me, Adam. I am sorry if we have made this difficult for you. I have promised to be more hopeful. I can see that you are very fond of the girl. I am sorry I ever said anything against her."

"I would rather you spoke your mind with me, even when it is something I don't wish to hear. Besides, I have been giving a lot of thought to what you and Mother have said, and though I hate to admit it, I am worried."

"Oh, Adam." She squeezed his arm. "I'm so sorry. What worries you in particular?"

"I cannot be sure she is as happy as she could be about our betrothal. She is so reticent with me, so shy. But she is not that way with other men. Look at her with Sherwood. And earlier with Ushworth, she laughed and chattered as she never does with me. And when I touch her ... Well, I worry that she is not happy with me."

Damn. It was beginning to look more and more as if this upcoming marriage was headed for disaster. Though Marianne had never liked the idea of Adam's betrothal to a silly girl like Clarissa, she had finally resigned herself to it, believing he was pleased with the match. It was troubling to learn that he was concerned about it.

"But she spoke very well of you the other night at the opera," she said. "Championed you, in fact."

"Did she? That is surprising." He paused a moment, then said, "So, she has spoken to you about me?"

"Only in the most general way."

"No woman-to-woman confidences?"

"Nothing like that," she said. "Clarissa is polite to me but not overly friendly. She may share her mother's concerns, for all I know. In any case, I believe she sees me as a much older woman, someone of her mother's generation, not someone likely to be a confidante."

"But you are much closer in age to her than her mother. I was hoping ..."

She tilted her head up to look at him when he did not continue. "What were you hoping? That she and I would become close friends? That the three of us would be like you and David and me?"

That would never happen. She was sure of it.

"My hopes are not that high," he said. "But I was hoping you might talk to her for me, try to get her to open up to you. I want to know her feelings about this marriage, about me. I need to know if she finds me offensive, or if she is afraid of me. I need to know if she is feeling pressured into a betrothal she does not want."

"And you think she will tell me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just hoped she might feel more comfortable talking to another woman."

A deep frown marked his brow. He truly was concerned. And so was Marianne. Maybe she could do something to help put an end to everyone's worries. She squeezed his arm and said, "I will do my best to befriend her, Adam, and hope that she will confide in me."

"Thank you, my dear."

"The set is about to end. Let me see if I can catch her before she is swept away by another partner."

Marianne left Adam and strolled toward the other side of the ballroom. As she neared the line where Clarissa and Lord Julian danced, she happened to catch sight of Sidney Gilchrist. A handsome gentleman who had been most attentive, he still ranked high on her list of potential lovers. She continued to favor Lord Julian above the rest, but one must keep one's options open. Besides, she really did need to speak with Mr. Gilchrist.

Marianne caught his eye and nodded a greeting. An odd look crossed his face, but he politely awaited her approach and took her proffered hand when she reached him.

"Mrs. Nesbitt," he said, and bowed over her hand. For the first time that she could recall, he did not make a show of kissing the air above her fingers, or even the fingers themselves.

"Mr. Gilchrist, I had not seen you arrive. You must forgive me for not welcoming you properly, as a patroness ought."

"Think nothing of it, ma'am. It is a rare squeeze tonight and you are not expected to tend to each and every attendee, I am sure."

"It is a gratifying turnout, is it not? I believe Fund contributions will reach record amounts this Season. Thank you so much for coming. But I most particularly wished to speak with you, Mr. Gilchrist."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You had very kindly invited me to drive with you in the park the day after tomorrow. I am afraid I am forced to cancel those plans. We have had to reschedule a meeting of the Fund trustees to that same afternoon, and I really must be there. I am terribly sorry."

The tight expression in his face softened slightly and he smiled. "I am disappointed, of course, but understand perfectly."

He did not look the least disappointed, in fact. How very lowering.

"As it happens," he continued, "I have heard of an opening that afternoon at Angelo's Fencing Academy and will now be able to take advantage of it. Angelo is not as charming as yourself, of course, but I shall muddle through somehow."

"Ah, so you enjoy swordplay, Mr. Gilchrist?"

"I do my best."

"My late husband was an expert swordsman," she said. "A master of the thrust and parry. I always found it thrilling to watch him wield his sword."

The cheerful expression on Mr. Gilchrist's face dissolved and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "Indeed," he said, "I had heard that about Mr. Nesbitt. If you will excuse me, ma'am, there is someone I must speak with. Good evening to you." He sketched a quick bow and walked away.

It almost seemed to Marianne that he had fled. He certainly appeared to be in a terrible hurry to get away. How provoking. It seemed he might not be as interested as she had hoped. Perhaps it was not very tactful to speak so glowingly of one's late husband to a prospective lover. She must remember that in the future.

"So, tell me, Clarissa, are you getting excited about your upcoming marriage?"