Song From the Sea (35 page)

Adam was more than happy to oblige.

18

H
arold was in a very bad mood. He'd been up half the night playing cards and drinking, and he'd been too foxed to get home, so he'd had to spend what little money he had left on a room at the inn, a complete waste of resources.

His head hurt, his mouth tasted like the bottom of a bog, and the sun shone far too brightly for his liking. The last thing he needed was to have to listen to his mother start complaining about Adam and bloody Callista Melbourne.

He was already livid enough that Adam had snatched a fortune out from under his nose, once again taking what he, Harold, was supposed to have, and he didn't need constant reminding. He stayed away from the house as much as possible, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't avoid his mother entirely, for she always seemed to be lying in wait for him, ready to start her nagging all over again.

He really didn't know what she expected him to do. Kidnap the stupid girl and carry her off to Gretna Green before Adam could marry her himself? He hardly thought so, and frankly, having had a dose of Miss Melbourne, he'd decided that he didn't particularly want to be married to her anyway. Therefore he'd done his best to put the entire matter out of his mind, but his mother refused to let it alone.

He quietly let himself in through the front door, hoping that his mother had stayed in bed with another one of her headaches. She'd been working up to one when he'd left the evening before, and they usually worsened during the night. But he had no such luck. Her voice shattered the stillness of the hallway, coming from behind him just as he'd reached the staircase.

“Harold! Where have you been? Come in here immediately!” She stood in the doorway of the sitting room in a state of high agitation, waving a sheet of paper in her hand.

He turned. “Good morning, Mama,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I trust you are feeling better?”

“How could I be feeling anything but deeply distressed when my only child has stayed out all night, doing heaven knows what, and I am left alone in this dreadful house where anyone could come in and murder me in my sleep?”

Harold really wished someone would. “I am sorry, Mama. I became involved in some business and I decided to stay over in town to see it completed early this morning.”

“Business?” she said. “Ha! What more important business could you possibly have than restoring our lost fortune? Have you done anything, I ask you? No. And here, just this morning, is a letter from that unfeeling, deceitful thief of a cousin of yours. He says that he is marrying Miss Melbourne immediately.
Immediately
, Harold,” she said, her voice rising.

“I don't know what
immediately
means, but I don't like it, and I want you to do something about it.”

“Do what?” Harold said, wishing he'd never left the inn.

“Find out what he's planning—if he really intends to marry her or if he's only baiting you. I have seen no engagement notice in any of the papers, and nothing would surprise me coming from him, for he likes nothing better than ruining your life. He might be planning to thoroughly compromise her and throw her out into the street, in which case you will have to step in and pick up the discarded and sullied pieces.” Mildred narrowed her eyes in thought. “Hmm. That might work out quite nicely in the end. But never mind that now. If he is intending to marry her, I want you to put a stop to it. Right away, Harold, if you understand my meaning.”

“I don't understand you at all,” Harold said, wanting nothing more than his bed. “How am I supposed to stop Adam from doing exactly as he pleases? I've never managed it before,” he added sulkily.

“I wish you'd use your brain for once. Just think about the consequences, Harold. If he marries, he'll probably get her with a brat, and if it's a son again, back you go down to the bottom of the succession. If he doesn't marry, then he can't produce a legitimate heir, now can he?”

“I know that,” Harold said impatiently. “I ask you again, what do you expect me to do?”

Mildred smiled, looking like a cat in the cream pot. “I want you to do as he asks in this letter and take Miss Melbourne's belongings over to Stanton.”

“Mama, you know as well as I that I'm not welcome at Stanton. He'll toss me straight out, and if not he, then one of his minions.”

“He made the request—it's right here in writing. You are being kind enough to comply. He asked for immediacy; you will give it to him, and you will go now, Harold, this very morning. When you're at Stanton, I want you to find out what you can, however you can, and I want you think very carefully about what you discover. You mustn't miss any opportunities to turn the situation around. I am confident that you will come up with something, anything.”

Harold could see his mother would not be dissuaded, and he had to admit, she'd had a clever idea about how to get onto Stanton land and do some investigating.

Once there, he was bound to find some sort of opportunity to get his own back at Adam.

Sleepily opening her eyes, Callie took a moment to orient. The sun brightly streamed in through the window and she realized with a small shock that the hour was late, probably close to noon. She rolled over but Adam was no longer beside her. He must have woken at his usual hour and left her to sleep. They'd been up until very late, and Callie smiled in memory, thinking of Adam's amazing stamina and versatility. She'd never even imagined there were so many interesting variations to the sexual act, but Adam's imagination knew no bounds and she'd been happy to be educated by such a willing and attentive master. She wasn't such a bad student, either.

She sat up and stretched, feeling in excellent health and spirits, surprised that she didn't seem to be the least bit tired. Actually, she felt amazingly vital and fully alive, all of her senses singing.

She looked down at the gold band on the ring finger of her left hand, a symbol of her love and commitment to Adam. Rubbing her thumb over it, she wondered if Adam saw it just as a badge of office.

But she wasn't going to dwell on that now. She wasn't going to let anything spoil her happiness. If Adam couldn't love her, well—at least he seemed to like her very much. He'd said himself that they'd just find a different way, and so they would.

She heard a scratch at the door, which could only mean that Jane was outside.

Callie quickly slipped out of bed and recovered her night shift, pulling it on. “Come in,” she called.

“Good morning, my lady. Did you sleep well?” Jane asked, carrying in a tray of tea and steaming muffins and setting it on a side table.

She looked remarkably demure. Jane usually started chattering away first thing and didn't stop until she'd finished her duties and left, which Callie always enjoyed, for she discovered a plethora of interesting and useful information about what was transpiring in the house, the grounds, the village beyond, and everywhere in between. Maybe Jane had developed a new sensibility now that Callie was formally the mistress of the house, and Callie thought that would be a real pity.

“I slept very well, thank you. Where is everyone?” she asked as Jane brought in a pitcher of hot water and poured it into the bowl on the washing stand.

“Well, let me see,” Jane said, forgetting her demureness. “Sir Reginald is in the study with his lordship. They've been in there most of the morning.” She considered. “Mr. Dryden is outside with Mr. Roberts, going over some sort of plans, or at least that's what Michael said. Anyway, he said they had a big sheet of paper with drawings on it and were talking a mile a minute, if Mr. Roberts can talk a mile a minute, which I doubt, so I imagine Mr. Dryden's doing most of the talking. Everyone else is where they belong at this time of the day, except that Mrs. Simpson is airing out the connecting bedroom to his lordship's so that we can move your belongings in later.” She turned from the wardrobe. “Would you like the blue walking dress with the white lace trimming and little green flowers, my lady? I do think it ever so pretty.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Callie said, looking up from the basin where she was giving herself a thorough wash. “That would be perfect. Anything else?”

“Oh—his lordship said that he'd join you and Sir Reginald for a cold luncheon, and then he asked to have the carriage brought around afterward, since he has to go into town on business for an hour or so, and he's taking Mr. Kincaid and the grooms with him to have a look at some horses he's thinking of buying. Or at least that's what he told Mr. Dryden before he went into the study with Sir Reginald.”

Callie did like being well informed, she thought with a smile as she dried herself off and let Jane help her into her dress. Jane was as good as having a private secretary.

“And your hair, my lady? Would you like me to put it up, or will you wear it down in your usual way during the day?”

“I'll brush it out and leave it,” Callie said. “I don't plan to turn into a grand lady just because I'm married. No one would recognize me.”

Jane grinned. “No, my lady. I'm happy that everything will go on just as before—well, almost, anyway. Do drink your tea and have your muffins before they go cold. Cook made them especially for you.”

“I'll do that, and then I'll come straight down. What a fine day it is. I think I might do some gardening this afternoon.”

“Yes, my lady. If you don't need me for anything else?”

“No, nothing else, thank you.” Callie ate her breakfast in peace and then left to join Adam and Sir Reginald, but before she closed the door behind her, she took one last look around the room in which she lived for the last month and in which so much had transpired.

It was odd, she thought. She had both lost herself and found herself within these four walls. She had learned to conquer fear and despair and she had learned to love. Her life would never be the same again.

Tonight she would sleep in a different room, Caroline's old room, and she would sleep there forever after. That was fitting, though, for today she properly began her new life as Adam's wife, a life in which she had left her ghosts behind, and Adam's as well. She wasn't so sure that Adam's ghosts would ever entirely leave him, not unless he regained his faith in God and could finally lay his wife and son to rest.

She was fully aware that she was wishing for a miracle.

“There you are,” Adam said, looking up as she came down the staircase. “I'm so pleased that you managed to sleep the morning away, for you look well rested and very pretty as well, I might say.”

Callie paused on the landing, gazing down at him. He looked so handsome, so different from the frightening, remote man she'd first met whose imposing good looks had startled and unnerved her. Now he looked just like—just like Adam, easy and relaxed, his eyes that brilliant color of the sky filled with sunshine, his smile just as warm, his hand reached up to her in welcome.

She descended the last flight of steps and slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed it. “I've had a most elucidating conversation with Sir Reginald, but it primarily concerned the financial details of your funds and working out how to draw up the trust that I mentioned. I can't change the disposition of ownership now that we're married, but I can keep the money protected for you.”

Callie put a hand on his arm, for she'd had an idea while she was eating her breakfast, and she wanted to see what Adam might think. “You said that you didn't want or need the money,” she said, wondering just how to put her proposition.

“That's true. Why? Have you suddenly decided that you want to spend it all?” His eyes teased her.

“Not exactly,” she replied seriously. “Adam, Squire Hoode owns the land that marches with Stanton, isn't that right?”

He frowned. “You mean West Grange Manor? He does, but what has that to do with anything? He's a filthy landlord and should be horsewhipped for the way he treats his tenants.”

“Yes, I know, and that's my point. Do you think he'd sell his land to you?” she said in a rush. “I don't know what fifty thousand pounds will buy, but if it's a good enough price for him, you can buy the property and take over as landlord, and that way all the people who suffer because of Squire Hoode's greed and indifference will be free of him and can live a much better life.”

Adam stared at her, his gaze sharpening. “By God, Callie … by God, you might have hit on something. Hoode's put out feelers in my direction for some time, but I've never had enough free capital to buy him out, preferring to put my money back into Stanton.” He took her by the shoulders and looked her hard in the eyes. “Are you sure this is how you'd like to see your money used?”

“It's our money now, and I think it would be a superb investment, Adam. You are very good at what you do, and you'd improve the land and its production no end.

Anyway, if you're worried about me and my future or our children's, well—the property won't be entailed to Stanton if you're careful about how you manage to buy it, and that way one of our younger children can have it—or something like that.” She shrugged. “I haven't worked out the details, but it will bring in its own income, won't it? The point is that if you can buy the grange, so many people's lives would be improved.”