The Reluctant Suitor (14 page)

“Have you . . . a choice in mind then?” his mother asked haltingly, fearful of what he would say.

A heavy sigh slipped from his lips. “Thus far, I have found no woman to appease me or satisfy the

demands of my heart.”

“And what are they?”

Colton shrugged, not knowing the answer to that himself. “Perhaps that is merely to fill the abyss I yet feel in my personal life.”

Lifting her teacup to her lips, Philana held a steady grip on its delicate handle in an effort to hide the telltale trembling of her fingers. She felt a strong compulsion to suggest that Adriana would likely be the only one who could satisfy that void, but she knew her son would not appreciate such a trite statement, though it could very well prove to be true.

After a long, thoughtful moment, Philana resettled her porcelain cup upon its saucer and announced quietly, “I shall leave you to decide when we should approach the Suttons about this matter, but know this, my son: Adriana’s appearance had little sway over your father’s judgment. He assumed it would improve, perhaps not to the degree that it has, but more than anything else, it was her character and intellect that he admired. The manner in which she and her siblings were brought up promised commendable behavior and principles, but in Adriana’s case those qualities have become jewels in her crown.”

Feeling as if a trap were closing in around him, Colton glowered across the room until he realized he was staring once again at the portrait above the fireplace. In a way, it was like looking at a reflection of himself; the resemblance was so very, very close, not only outwardly, but inwardly as well. His father had always had a mind of his own. Only Philana, with her soft, gentle ways, had been able to sway him one way or another. Colton had to wonder if Adriana would be as capable of softening
his
heart. As yet, no woman had ever succeeded.

Other thoughts intruded, prodding him with spurs that made him mentally wince. How would he feel if he were to have a son as rebellious as he had proven to be? Would the day ever come when he would yield to arguments put forth by an offspring? Or would he hold firm to his own convictions and resolve, just as his father had before him?

An inward honesty prevented Colton from offering dry, empty platitudes in defense of himself. Having been an officer nearly half his life, he knew he wouldn’t enjoy the prospect of being faced with revolt, even if it duplicated his own refusal to comply with his father’s wishes.

Four

N
ow that Colton Wyndham was home and lord of the manor, he was deserving of chambers worthy of a marquess. Yet servants were still unpacking his possessions, freshening the linens on his bed and generally dusting and airing the several rooms that comprised his new, second-story apartments on the southernmost side of the house. When Colton expressed to Harrison a desire to find a quiet place to take a nap, the steward suggested that he retire to the room he had once occupied in his youth until the new accommodations were ready.

Colton didn’t mind; he was too near exhaustion to care much where he slept. Just as long as he had enough privacy to doff his clothes and stretch out upon something approaching a serviceable mattress, he

’d be content. After all the narrow canvas cots he had slept on during his military career, his old bed with its down-filled mattress would seem like a luxury. Thus, he stripped away his uniform and, in complete exhaustion, sprawled upon the bed that Harrison had had the foresight to send servants to turn down.

Having gotten little rest during the lengthy carriage ride from whence he had bade farewell to his troops, he felt both mentally and physically drained. But then, perhaps that wasn’t entirely due to his journey. The news of his pending betrothal to Adriana had set him back upon his heels. Once again, he found himself reliving those moments preceding his break with his father and his departure from home.

Thoroughly incensed that his sire would seek to arrange his life by committing him to a mere slip of a girl ten years his junior, he had stormed out of the house in rebellious resentment. Even at the age of six and ten, he had been acquainted with far more comely maidens to whom in years to come he’d have dutifully promised to give his protection and perhaps even his heart had his father considered any one of them suitable as a future spouse for his son; but almost from the time of her birth, the late Sedgwick Wyndham had been especially partial to the youngest daughter of his closest friend and neighbor. Never mind that the girl had seemed destined to remain not only a spindly little reed but a plain, awkward gamine with enormous, ebon eyes and a thin face. How could
anyone
have expected anything more? That was the way she had always looked, and in contrast to her two older sisters, who were petite, fair-haired, and exceptionally pretty, as well as closer to his own age, Adriana had seemed like nothing more than a dark, nondescript shadow in an otherwise extraordinarily handsome family. Notwithstanding, his father had set his aspirations resolutely upon six-year-old Adriana, recognizably the most studious of the three siblings, and deemed her a prudent match for his only male offspring. In that decision, Sedgwick had remained firmly dedicated, even declaring he would have no other for his son.

Colton had balked, to the point that he had left home the very day of his angry confrontation with his parent. He had entered military academy, at which time he had gained the support of his maternal uncle, Lord Alistair Dermot, who had confessed with a mischievous gleam in his eye that over the passage of some years he had been secretly yearning to find a righteous cause to go against the dictates of his brother-in-law, whom many of his peers had considered keenly intuitive in evaluating the worth of a person. Just once, Uncle Alistair had said, he wanted to prove Sedgwick Wyndham capable of committing errors in judgment, but no matter how much he may have longed for that event to come to fruition, Alistair had failed to gain the evidence he had sought. Now it seemed the contrary was true.

During the course of the next two years, Colton had learned the art of war and, in 1801, had gone to Egypt as a young officer, second lieutenant grade, where he had seen service under Lieutenant General Sir Abercombe. From there, he had distinguished himself time and again in many bloody conflicts against the enemy, daringly leading his men into the thickest of frays or, when the enemy swarmed upon them, either standing firm in a solid square of armed men facing four sides or else advancing or retreating as a block, an infantry formation upon which commanders of the British Empire even now often relied. During the next fourteen years in which Uncle Alistair and letters from family members had been his only contact with home, a series of promotions had elevated him to the status of colonel in command of a sizable regiment under Lord Wellington. Though Waterloo had recently evinced the deterioration of Napoleon’s ambitions, Colton had let it be known that he intended to carry on with his military career. Wellington had been delighted and assured him that if his wounds healed properly he would make general ere the year was out. Then had come news of his father’s death, and Colton had had a change of heart. After finally getting on his feet again, he had discharged himself from the surgeon’s care and begged leave of Wellington and the English army. Casting his sights toward home, he had sworn an oath to himself that he would do his duty by his family and to his newly acquired marquessate. In spite of their past disagreements, he had felt an enormous pride in his father’s accomplishments. Even to think of the title being bestowed upon another had gone against everything he had held dear, and he had become increasingly resolved to keep the marquessate firmly within his grasp.

In his years as an officer, he had never given serious consideration to the girl he had once rejected except to lament the fact that he had hurt her deeply by his adamant refusal. He had certainly never imagined that one day she would reach the extraordinary degree of exquisiteness she had attained during his absence.

Had someone swung a wood plank across the back of his knees and swept his legs out from under him the moment she announced her name, he couldn’t have been more surprised.

Still, her unrivaled beauty would mean little to him if the two of them proved incompatible, which had seemed the way of it shortly after Samantha had recognized him. The girl’s stilted aloofness had evidenced something closely approaching resentment. Then, too, considering the number of years he had held staunchly to his decision not to yield to his father’s dictates, he couldn’t envision himself accepting a betrothal merely to pay tribute to the elder’s memory. Something more promising would have to manifest itself ere he’d relent and turn his thoughts in line with what his sire had decreed for him.

A
pair of hours later, Samantha left Percy chatting with her mother and went upstairs to seek out her brother. At her light knock, she heard his muffled, halting footfalls and the thump of his cane approaching the door. When the portal was drawn open, she found him garbed in older military attire that had softened over the years and clung more readily to his tall frame, evincing his broad shoulders and the sleekness of his hips.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she ventured apprehensively. Of a sudden, he seemed like a stranger, and she felt a surge of regret for having come. “Were you still resting?”

“No, actually, I was considering taking the dogs out for a short walk. My leg could use the exercise. It tightens up on me when I sit for long spells, as was the case during my journey here.” Leaning heavily upon the cane, he backed away from the entrance and, with a welcoming grin, pulled the door wide. “

Come in.”

“Are you sure?” she inquired in a tiny voice, closely reminiscent of the way she had sounded as a child.

Old memories of happier times came winging back to Colton, drawing a chuckle from him. “Indeed, please do. You don’t know how often I reminisced on your visits to my room after I left here. Whether you came to beg for help in repairing a broken toy or to be read a story, you made me feel cherished as a brother. After so long a time, I feel honored that you still have a desire to seek me out.”

Moving inward with more enthusiasm, Samantha glanced about the chamber, finding it basically unchanged from the last time she had entered it years ago. As a child, she had idolized her brother and suffered through a painful loneliness after he had gone away. As much as she had tried earlier that afternoon to subdue the anxieties aroused by his conversation with their mother, she had found herself beset by a niggling apprehension that he’d revolt against the arrangements that had been made during his absence and once again take his leave. After being his own man for half his lifetime, he had grown accustomed to doing just as he pleased. It was understandable that he might resent intrusion into that area now.

Her smile wavered between uncertainty of the future and gratification that he had at last come home. “

You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you, Colton. During the first several years after your departure, there were times when I felt so lost and forlorn that I just wanted to sit down and have a good cry. After Papa’s passing, I found it doubly hard to stay here in the manse, especially without Percy. Every room seemed to echo with Papa’s deep voice and laughter. If you’re not aware of it, Colton, you not only look like him, but your voice has the same mellow tones that his had.”

“Uncle Alistair complained about that on a fairly frequent basis,” he acknowledged with a soft chuckle. “I suspect I startled him more than he cared to admit whenever I’d come up behind him unawares and say something. Once, he even called me Sedgwick before he realized his error.”

The silkily lashed, dark gray eyes sparkled with amusement. “Dear Uncle Alistair, what a darling he is.”

Never having thought of his uncle in that precise way before, Colton offered her a skeptical grin. “Well, he certainly helped me out when I was in dire need, but I always assumed that was only because he wanted to thwart Father any way he could.”

Samantha’s soft smile hinted otherwise. “Uncle Alistair seemed to enjoy giving the impression that he and Papa were ever at odds. Some of their views were dissimilar, granted, and neither was hesitant about speaking his mind. At times, when they argued, one could even believe they were the fiercest of enemies, yet if anyone spoke against the other in either’s presence, woe to the fellow, for his ears would soon be ringing. I must admit Uncle Alistair had me completely duped until I saw tears welling up in his eyes at Papa’s funeral. That was when he acknowledged he had never known a more honorable nor a more intelligent man than our father. He even avouched that he had never been more pleased about a wedding than the day his sister married Sedgwick.”

Totally astounded by her claims, Colton could only stare at her as he tried to mentally assimilate what she was telling him. Initially, Alistair had led him to believe that his aim was merely to show up Sedgwick as being opinionated and self-willed. Now Colton was hearing something totally contrary to that premise.

Feeling a bit dumbstruck at this new perspective of their uncle, Colton could only shake his head in wonder. “I suppose I’ll have to reform my thinking and consider that Uncle Alistair’s grumbling complaints about Father were merely for my benefit. Should I also negate the idea that he was actually looking for a way to recompense Father for his flaws when he offered to support me?”

A smile traced across Samantha’s lips as her translucent gray eyes sparkled back at him. “The likelihood has merit. He probably didn’t want you to feel beholden to him.”