Thankfully, Madeline didn’t seem to sense any change in him, maybe because she’d kept her eyes lowered. She turned from him to face the washbasin again, and Adam sucked in a deep breath as he backed away from her and struggled to retrieve his sobriety.
Throughout the next week, Adam did manage to deny what he’d felt when he’d kissed Madeline in Mary’s bedchamber. Over and over, time and time again, he told himself that it was gratitude and nothing more, for he had come to depend upon Madeline a great deal since she’d delivered the baby.
She had been caring for the infant, reading to the children in the evenings, helping Agnes in the kitchen and with the chores. She was also giving Penelope impromptu music lessons. Then, after the children were in bed at night, Madeline sat with Adam in the parlor, listening to his concerns about the marshlands and encouraging him to continue his campaign to preserve them.
Like a newly sown field after a long, cold winter, Adam felt awakened and more confident about the task of safeguarding and expanding the land that belonged to him and would one day belong to his children and grandchildren. Yes, he and Madeline had become good friends. But nothing more than that, he assured himself.
Then one morning, Adam descended the stairs just as the back door opened and Madeline walked into the kitchen carrying a basket of eggs. She began to hum as she pulled off her shawl and hung it on a peg by the door. She wore a dress Adam had not seen before, with red printed flower sprays over a white background, and a muslin neckerchief covering her bosom.
Or perhaps he had seen the dress before but had simply not noticed it.
Well, he noticed it now. He noticed a lot of things now—like the feminine curve of her neck and shoulders, and the delightful wine-colored blush of her soft, moist lips. For once he let himself gaze deliberately at her bosom. It was hard to believe those ample, womanly breasts had not even existed all those years ago. Now they were full and round beneath that neckerchief, and he found himself wishing she would take the blasted thing off so he could see the deep crease between them.
He watched Madeline for another few seconds as she whisked the eggs, and he grew increasingly uneasy with his thoughts and the way his eyes were locked on her, as if he would stare at her all day if it were possible.
Just then, Agnes walked out of the dining room with an empty platter in her hands, and he felt as if he’d been caught stealing cookies from the jar.
In reality, this was much worse than that.
He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Agnes.” Then he walked with exaggerated aplomb into his kitchen.
Madeline turned, her voice cheerful and melodic as she greeted him. “Good morning, Adam. Breakfast will be ready soon.”
He picked up a warm biscuit from a pan cooling on the table and bit into it. The moist flavor of the biscuit melted exquisitely on his tongue. “These are spectacular, Madeline. Did you bake them?”
He sensed Agnes hovering around like a busy bee behind him, listening. His awareness of her presence, and a feeling of self-consciousness, was a great deal sharper than usual.
Madeline’s eyes lit up at the compliment. “Yes. I added some sweet, dried savory to the dough.”
“Savory, you say…” He took another bite. “Magnificent.”
Near the door, Agnes pulled on her shawl. “I’m going to the barn to do a few chores before breakfast.” With that, she was gone.
Adam remained in the kitchen, watching Madeline pour batter into an iron pot on the fire. She was so quiet. So calm all the time.
Suddenly he yearned to know more about her and her life before she came into his, and he couldn’t resist the curiosity. He sat down at the trestle table. “Did you cook for your family at home?”
“My father had a housekeeper, but I was always in the kitchen helping her, if I wasn’t in the garden digging in the dirt. Of course, neither of those things my father approved of, but he gave up trying to stop me after a while. To be honest, I doubt he ever expected me to do what Diana did.”
Her voice trailed off, and Adam was intrigued. “Which was?”
Madeline looked at him and giggled. “I don’t know, Adam. She spent so much time away from home. She was constantly with our aunt in London, and when she came home she always looked beautiful. She was skillful with an embroidery needle, too, so I suspect she spent a lot of time doing what mostwell-brought-up young ladies do.”
He laughed. “Are you saying you were not brought up well?”
“I’m saying I was not as socially ambitious as most young women my age.” She threw him an apologetic look. “I beg your pardon, Adam, I did not mean to insinuate anything about Diana.”
“I didn’t think you had.”
She stirred whatever she was cooking in that huge pot. “Diana and I were eleven years apart, and we had very different childhoods.”
Why did he have the feeling she was still apologizing for what she’d said about her sister?
Adam watched Madeline a little longer. The desire to know more about her and the person she was beneath the surface she showed to the world would not leave him, so he simply gave in to it. “How so? Diana spent time in London with her mother and aunt. What about you?”
Madeline moved away from the fireplace to the worktable. She reached for bread dough that she must have set to rise before she’d gone out for the eggs. “Mother died when I was born, so I never took any trips to London. Father went, of course, and continued to take Diana with him, but I was just a babe, so he left me at home with the housekeepers. Habits form, I suppose, and as I grew older, he continued to leave me behind.”
“Did that bother you?”
