No, surely that wasn’t necessary. He was just making excuses to interrupt, to thwart John Metcalf when Adam had no business thwarting anything to do with Madeline.
Whatever improper feelings he had for her, he had to bury, for Adam had already proposed to her sister. More than proposed. He had sent the necessary documents for a proxy marriage to take place, and it was out of his hands now. The proposal was on its way across the deep blue Atlantic, and Adam could not make the ship turn around. Nor should he want to. Diana was supposed to be the true romance of his life, the one he’d always wanted and the one he continued to want at this moment.
The number of times he’d had to convince himself of that lately was beginning to irk him.
He settled his hat back on his head and tried to return to planting, but despite his desire not to think about Madeline anymore, it dawned on him that perhaps Agnes was not in the house with her and John.
Adam hadn’t thought about stipulating that to John or returning to make sure that Agnes was there. What if she was in the barn when John had arrived, and Madeline was alone in the house to greet him? They’d have no chaperon.
Bloody hell, he was no good at this. He’d never played this role before. He hadn’t expected to be in this position until Penelope had matured a number of years. Agoodnumber of years.
When he’d sent for Diana, he’d expected a bride, not a ward.
Hell, he was making excuses again. Madeline was not his ward. She was a woman, and sometime over the past few weeks, he’d become all too aware of that fact.
He gazed across the field at Jacob and George working diligently. For a long time, he watched them, then he flinched at the direction of his thoughts again as he asked himself: If the proposal to Diana was not pending, would he go up to the house now and interrupt John’s visit, then begin to court Madeline himself?
His head began to throb. Good God, how was he going to handle this? He reached into his bag for more seed and sprinkled it onto the field.
He knew one thing. He was not—absolutely not!—going to return to the house and make a fool of himself. He was going to stay right here. Anddammit,if he knew what was good for him, he was going to wrestle this reckless, taboo infatuation into submission.
Not two minutes later, feeling thoroughly ashamed of his ineffectual will, he dropped a final handful of seed onto the ground and stomped up to the house.
Chapter Ten
Madeline, listening politely to John tell her about his family in Yorkshire, had just raised her teacup to her lips when the front door of the house swung open.
Adam stepped in and paused in the doorway. Their gazes met and locked. He looked a little flustered for a moment, almost angry at himself, then the room went silent.
Madeline set down her cup. Adam glanced briefly at John and nodded, then his boots thumped down the hall toward the kitchen.
She wondered if something was wrong. Should she go to him to ask if he was all right and, if there was a problem, try and help somehow?
Her heart began beating a breakneck rhythm against her ribs. She took a deep, calming breath to allay it, telling herself that Adam’s moods and problems were not hers to sort out, at least not when she had a gentleman caller.
Agnes, who sat beside Madeline on the sofa, said nothing. She didn’t seem startled or surprised. She just drank her tea.
The conversation then resumed.
A few minutes later, Penelope came down the stairs and joined them in the parlor. The sight of the child’s huge brown eyes and the sound of her little girl’s voice brought a smile to Madeline’s face. Penelope told them about the baby’s strong grip, how she had grasped Penelope’s thumb in her hand and not let go even when Penelope had tried to gently shake her off.
Madeline suddenly wondered what Adam was doing in the kitchen all this time. Had he noticed the half-plucked chicken? Was it in his way if he wanted to sit down at the table? Or was he simply listening to their conversation?
“So there’s a good chance my brothers will come, too, if things work out for me here,” John said. Madeline realized she had missed something of the conversation just now.
“Shall we take Mr. Metcalf for a walk?” Penelope suggested. “We could show him the swing.”
“You just want someone to push you,” Agnes said good-naturedly.
“I’ll push you,” John offered.
Penelope stood and Madeline set down her cup to go with them.
“I’ll tend to this,” Agnes offered, tidying up. “You three go out and enjoy the good weather.”
Madeline followed Penelope to the door, but sensed Adam’s presence, watching them. She glanced briefly back at the kitchen, and sure enough, he was standing there, silently sipping coffee, staring at her. His gaze was dark and intense.
Her skin prickled with awareness and a longing to stay behind and ask him if something was wrong, for she sensed he was not himself, but instead, she forced herself to ignore the impulse. There was no sense nurturing the intimacy of their so-called friendship, and feeding forbidden feelings that were already dangerously out of control.
