Carousel of Hearts (21 page)

In spite of the pain of unrequited love, Judith was grateful for all that had happened. Without even knowing it, in a few moments of one-sided passion Simon had restored her ability to dream.

* * * *

Adam had written his man of business, Whittlesey, about his amnesia, and Whittlesey now sent documents with a brief description of the history behind a transaction, probable results, and his own recommendation. Assuming that Whittlesey wasn’t seizing the opportunity to rob his employer blind, it was an excellent system. If Adam was half as good a judge of character as people said, his agent should be honest.

A new sheaf of papers had just arrived from London, and Adam was perusing them in the library. There was also a letter from Manchester, and Adam opened it, then chuckled over the contents.

Antonia was curled up reading in a wing chair. She glanced up. “Something amusing?”

“Rather. James Malcolm, engineer of the infernal steam engine, has written to say that the explosion made him aware of a serious design flaw that he has now rectified. From now on, all Malcolm engines will have not less than three forms of safety device.”

“And none too soon,” Antonia said tartly.  “What are they?”

Adam glanced down at the letter. “There will be two safety valves, one of them tamper-proof, a mercurial steam gauge that will blow out if the safety valves don’t work, and a lead plug that will melt and release the pressure if the water level becomes dangerously low. Mr. Malcolm commends the new design to my attention, and is willing to call it ‘the Yorke safety engine as a commemoration of the most regrettable incident.’”

Antonia slammed her book shut and jerked upright in her chair. “ ‘The most regrettable incident’! That man’s engine almost killed you, and now he’s trying to turn you up sweet so you’ll invest in his company anyhow!”

Adam laughed. “That’s true in one sense, but he’s just being a good businessman. The fact is, most progress is a result of changes made after something goes wrong. At least, no one was killed in the process of learning that the engine needed some improvements.”

Antonia gave him a mock scowl. “You may be casual about your
pas de deux
with St. Peter, but I am not.”

“Good.” The sunlight gilded her hair to a halo of fire, and Adam feasted his eyes on the sight. “Have I mentioned recently that you are incredibly beautiful?”

Antonia laughed. “Now you are trying to turn
me
up sweet.’’

“Precisely.” He rose from his desk and circled around to her chair, then lifted her chin for a kiss. “And no one tastes sweeter than you.”

She reached up to link her arms around his neck so he couldn’t escape, then returned his kiss with enthusiasm. There were many stolen kisses like this, embraces that left them both in a state of simmering desire.

There was aching pleasure in the denial, and Antonia knew that in the future, when they were married and could make love whenever they wished, she would still remember this interval with a special kind of nostalgia. Now was the season for anticipation, and the richness of that would make fulfillment all the better.

When the need for air ended the embrace, Adam pulled back and kissed the end of her nose. “I’ve finished with business for the day. Shall we go out to the summerhouse to read?”

“Sounds delightful.” Antonia retrieved her novel, which had slipped unnoticed to the floor. “Do you have an interesting book?”

“Simon recommended this volume on the natural history of the Midlands. He said there were some intriguing theories in it.”

The weather was continuing warm, and the summerhouse was a delightful retreat from the heat. The upper part of the structure was vine-covered lattice that admitted air and light, and the wide padded bench that ran around the inside walls was a comfortable spot to lounge and read.

Antonia was just settling down when Adam remarked, an odd note in his voice, “Lord Launceston has interesting taste in bookmarks.”

She glanced up curiously and saw that he was reading an unfolded sheet of paper. “According to this, the world is notified that Antonia Thornton, Lady Fairbourne of Thornleigh, has done Simon Launceston, Lord Launceston of Abbotsden, the honor of consenting to become his wife.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with cool question. “Was this wishful thinking on his part, or is it one of those things I should know about?”

Blast Simon and his absentmindedness! It must be one of the announcements he had forgotten to send to the London journals. Antonia would prefer not having to explain, but there was no avoiding it.

“We considered marrying,” she admitted, “but very quickly decided that we would make each other miserable. So we ended it and he left Thornleigh.”

“Everything must have been very quick indeed,” he said dryly. “I seem to recall being told that Lord Launceston and I returned from India on the same ship, about two months ago. My present memory goes back three weeks to Macclesfield, so you must have met Simon, fallen in love, separated, then accepted an offer from me in five weeks or less.”

“It sounds rather awful, put like that,” Antonia said, her cheeks coloring, “but…that is more or less what happened.’’

“What was I doing when all of this high drama was taking place?” Adam asked with dangerous mildness.

“You were right here,” Antonia’s answer was less than steady, “soothing me and giving me good advice when I was having the vapors.”

“What a boringly virtuous person I seem to have been.” Adam’s voice was lightly reflective, but underneath Antonia heard a note that frightened her.

“Do you know, I had become so accepting of the amnesia that I had forgotten how woefully uninformed I am about the most important things in my life. Did you accept me because I was the most convenient choice to make Lord Launceston jealous?
Or was it to prove you weren’t wearing the willow for him? Either way, I find that I dislike being in the dark about what must be common knowledge for everyone else at Thornleigh.”

Setting his book aside, he stood and stalked across the summerhouse, not looking at Antonia. “No wonder there was a lack of physical intimacy between you and me. There had hardly been time to develop any.”

He turned to face her, and the angry ice of his eyes was a vivid reminder that weak men do not make fortunes in a handful of years. “Was it difficult to pretend to enjoy the touch of one man when you were longing for another?”

Antonia gasped in shock, but he continued inexorably. “And I have to wonder how much I don’t know about what is going on under the surface of our little gathering. Ignorance is such a dangerous thing. You and I are together all day, but I really don’t know how you spend your nights. Did Lord Launceston return to Thornleigh to persuade you to a reconciliation? If so, what kind of arguments does he make and how much do you enjoy them?”

Aghast, Antonia stared at her cousin before she jumped up and crossed the summerhouse to stand in front of him, her heart pounding with fear. “Adam, it wasn’t like that,” she said intensely. “Ever since I was four years old, you were the one person in my life whom I could rely on. It took my brief infatuation for Simon to make me realize just how much I cared for you.

“Wanting to marry you wasn’t some form of retaliation against Simon. He was already gone from my life. Only your accident and his genuine concern for your welfare brought him back to Thornleigh. Simon has not said one single word to indicate that he still wants me. You saw him with Judith. Did he look like a man mourning the loss of another woman?”

In her fierce desire to convince him, Antonia laid her palms on Adam’s chest, feeling the hard strength of bone and muscle. “I should have explained the whole history to you.  But it’s not very flattering to me, and the more time that passed and the closer you and I became, the less important it seemed.”

The ice in Adam’s eyes was thawing as he weighed her words, and she knew that he wanted to believe her. She rested her forehead on his solid shoulder as her fingers curled around his lapels.  She whispered, “I wanted to marry you because I need you in my life.”

Adam was still under her touch, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Then he sighed and his arms came around her. “Poor little cousin,” he said, his baritone voice soft. “So much needing, so much hurting.”

To her horror, she began to cry and did not even know why. “You have always been much too good for me.”

“That has been the problem, hasn’t it?” he said bleakly. “You speak of needing me, but you have never said a word about love.”

Understanding what was really upsetting him, she raised her head locked her gaze with his.  “I told Simon that I loved him too quickly. To say the same to you so soon seemed a…a cheapening of the words. Also—I had always loved you as a brother.  It seemed almost incestuous to desire you. That all changed the day that we went to the Aerie. There I discovered that I loved you in quite a different way, as a woman loves her man.”

Standing on tiptoe, she lightly pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Adam, with no qualifications or limits.  And I want most desperately to marry you. That, I swear, is the whole truth.”

His arms crushed around her, pulling her tight against him. “Lord, Antonia, I have wanted so much to hear you say that. The worst part of not remembering is not knowing how you felt about me and being afraid to ask.” Adam’s kiss was demanding and possessive, and she rejoiced in it.

“I thought that there was something very warm and real between us,” he murmured.  “Finding that marriage announcement was a ghastly shock. It made me wonder if I had been wrong about everything.’’

“I should have explained sooner, but it was easier not to speak.” Antonia leaned back in his embrace, relaxing into a smile. “You know, I am not the only one who has avoided talking about love.”

Adam smiled ruefully. “Even with amnesia, I know I’ve always loved you. It’s like knowing how to breathe. Something that can’t be forgotten while one lives.”

Antonia gave a sigh of pure delight, relaxing within the safe circle of his arms.  “This is like the steam engine.”

Adam looked inquiring. “What is?”

Smiling, she sat on the padded bench, tugging her cousin to sit next to her. “It wasn’t until it exploded that Malcolm knew it needed improvement. It’s the same with you and me. I thought we were happy before, but something went wrong, we made improvements, and now I’m happier than ever.”

His laughter was rich and deep. “You have a talent for analogy.” Absently he rubbed at the healing wound on his head. There was no longer a bandage, and the stitched gash and the shaved area around it were almost covered by longer hair.

“Is your head hurting?” Antonia asked.

“Some,” he admitted. “I wonder if I’ll spend the rest of my life getting headaches whenever I become overset.”

“I’ve never known you to anger easily.  I’ll certainly do my best to avoid provoking you in the future.” Antonia tilted her head reflectively. “You can’t imagine how glad I am that you challenged me when you were angry rather than becoming all cool and maddening. Simon could withdraw like an oyster, and that more than anything convinced me that we would never suit.”

“I can see how little that would appeal to someone like you, who prefers open battle,” he agreed with amusement. “I think that you and I have more compatible styles of fighting, though I shan’t repine if we don’t do it very often.”

Though his tension was gone, Adam had a drawn look that implied fatigue as well as headache. Antonia knew that he was still having occasional attacks of drowsiness, so she suggested, “Why not lie out on the bench and relax? I make a tolerably good pillow.”

“An irresistible offer,” Adam murmured, swinging his legs up on the bench and laying his head on her lap, dozing off almost immediately.

Antonia felt vastly content. The altercation between them had been painful, but in the aftermath she felt closer to Adam than ever. They loved each other, and she sensed that in the future there would be still deeper levels of closeness. When they married and became lovers, when they had a child . . .

Leaning back against the wall, Antonia herself dozed, and when she woke up, the sunlight had shifted noticeably. Adam was still sound asleep, and she enjoyed the sight of his still face, which had a boyish quality in repose.

While he did not have Simon’s stunning handsomeness, she thought him quite irresistible. She leaned over to kiss his forehead.

At her touch, Adam’s eyes opened. As his gaze slowly focused on her face, she saw confusion, then shock, in the gray-green depths. “Tony?” he asked uncertainly.

It took her a moment to appreciate the significance of the fact that Adam had used her nickname. When she did, a wave of excitement coursed through her. After the accident, she had introduced herself to Adam as Antonia, and he had called her that ever since.

But for most of her life, she had been Tony to her cousin. Scarcely daring to breath, she asked, “Adam, do you remember what happened?”

His expression puzzled, he sat up, pulling well away from her while he raised one hand to his head. Encountering the healing scar, he murmured, “What the devil . . . ?” Adam scanned his surroundings, then glanced at his cousin. “What do you mean by asking what happened?”

“I mean the explosion, and the head injury you suffered.” At his blank expression, Antonia asked, “Adam, what is the last thing you remember?”

He stood and walked across the summerhouse, a frown creasing his brow. “I was going to Macclesfield to see an engineer named Malcolm.” He unconsciously rubbed the scar on his head. “I—I seem to recall asking you and Judith if you wanted to go at breakfast, and Judith accepting for both of you.”

He shook his head, disoriented. “Did that happen this morning? It’s very vague. I can’t remember if we went to Macclesfield. Nor do I remember coming out to the summerhouse with you”—he smiled faintly—”much less how I ended up on your lap, pleasant surprise though that was.”

“In Macclesfield, Malcolm’s steam engine blew up, and you were unconscious for two and a half days. When you woke up, your personal memory was entirely gone, though you recalled abstract facts well enough,” she said succinctly. “That was three weeks ago. You remember nothing of that time?”