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be your most important motive for doing so."
Taken aback and a bit humbled by her bluntness, Adam replied, "Thank you for your confidence in my character. Let me reaffirm that regardless of my family's needs, I would never seek to win the favor of a lady I did not also admire and respect."
"Now that we've settled that," she said, brushing at the corners of her eyes, "we can both be comfortable. Let me tell you again how happy we are that you are finally back in England. Your father was a good neighbor to us and we grieved at his suffering.
How hard it must have been for you, compelled by your duty to remain so far away!"
Adam nodded, heartened to discover how well she understood his dilemma. "With Bonaparte's generals still wreaking havoc in Spain and Portugal, I couldn't simply desert my post. Despite his infirmity, Papa commanded me to remain with Wellington where I might do some good, as he said there was nothing anyone but God could do for him. Still, it was.. .difficult."
"Difficult, too, to return to find your estate in disorder." When he looked over, startled, she pointed out, "We said there would be only plain speaking between us."
Not so sure he liked blunt honesty after all, Adam said wryly,
"I hope that not the whole of Society is privy to the true state of our fortunes."
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"I'm sure it is not!" she reassured him. "But remember, we are neighbors. With Claygate Manor so close, Papa couldn't help but notice the property deteriorate over the years. Then when we heard it was to be let out... Not that you should blame poor Lady
Darnell, who I expect did the best she could, but being by nature rather frivolous and lacking the firm hand on her household Mama has taught me to exercise, the decline was perhaps unavoidable."
Before Adam could begin to take up cudgels in his stepmother's defense, she added, "But one cannot expect a lady to master estate matters. Besides, under the most distressing circumstances, she remained a helpmate to your father through the whole of his long illness. Mama often pointed to her as an excellent example of wifely devotion. I only hope I may serve my own husband as well someday."
Lips twitching, Adam was about to retort that he didn't much relish the idea of languishing for years on a sickbed while his wife lovingly tended him. But Priscilla's expression was so serious that, not wishing to offend her, he refrained from voicing that observation. "You will be just as excellent a wife to the gentleman fortunate enough to secure your hand," he said instead.
Miss Standish gazed at him with a warmth that sur prised him, even as it gratified his masculine sensibilities. "Then I must wait for the right gentleman to solicit it."
At that moment he drove onto the carriageway at Hyde Park, where the throng of vehicles and strolling 98 THE UNTAMED HEIRESS
pedestrians required him to refocus his attention on his horses.
As they made their slow progress about the park, however, it soon became clear just how marked a favor Miss Standish had bestowed on him.
All down Rotten Row, the ladies or gentlemen whom they
stopped to greet smiled at Miss Standish— and gave Adam frankly speculative looks. Although their conversation on the drive home was general rather than personal, Miss Standish describing for him the many activities he and the Darnell ladies could expect to enjoy during the Season, Adam began to wonder if taking Miss Standish driving had been such a wise idea after all.
He had the uncomfortable feeling that somehow in the space of a single afternoon he had catapulted from renewing an acquaintance to raising expectations among Society—and perhaps in the young lady—that an offer from him was imminent. And while he was certainly looking at her as a possible wife, he didn't wish to have his hand forced.
Given that vague discomfort, when the young lady thanked him for the drive and then invited him to dine with her family three nights hence, Adam almost refused.
However, if he truly wished to get to know her well enough to decide whether or not to make that offer, it only made sense to accept. Having done so and given her his compliments, Adam drove off.
He was still examining his mixed feelings about courting Priscilla when he arrived at his club to meet Bennett Dixon for dinner. Before he'd even taken
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his seat, his old friend came over to pound him on the back.
"You were always one to rush your fences," Dix said, grinning. "So when am I to wish you happy?"
Trying to ignore the highly interested stares of a number of other club members, Adam said, "You are referring to my driving Miss Standish in the park—an event which was, apparently, witnessed by all the world and his brother?"
"Dash it, man, you can't drive at the Promenade hour and not be seen by everyone," Dix replied.
"Perhaps, but I must have missed something during my sojourn in foreign lands. Since when did a drive in the park become tantamount to a proposal of marriage?"
"When the lady accepting that solo invitation is Priscilla Standish," Dix replied. "Given the vastaess of her fortune, the chit can look as high as she likes for a husband. Not wishing to discourage any of the desirable contenders still manning the lists—and to keep the current suitors dangling—her parents have never before let the girl drive out with just one gentleman. Miss Standish must have raised quite a fuss to persuade them to allow it. You might as well have had heralds riding before you, announcing the banns."
At that moment-two dandies crossed the room, holding out what Adam recognized, with a sinking feeling, as the club's betting book. "Care to enter a wager, Dix?" one of them asked, winking at Adam. "Odds are better than even that our hero here will be engaged by month's end."
100 THE UNTAMED HEIRESS
Dix turned to grin at Adam. "See? Even I didn't believe you could rout the competition so quickly."
Adam took a swallow from the glass of wine Dix offered him.
This was what he'd wanted—wasn't it? He should be pleased at
how quickly matters seemed to be progressing.
He needed a well-born, attractive lady he respected and admired who could manage his household and give him an heir.
Miss Standish was all that, as well as a friend from childhood.
And she was rich. What more could he ask?
It wasn't as if he were waiting to fall in love. He'd experienced that heady infatuation once or twice in his salad days. The inevitable wrenching disappointment had taught him 'twas an indulge nce best avoided by mature gentleman with familial obligations.
Still, a fiancée would doubtless expect him to dance attendance on her, limiting the time he would be able to spend with his family. Also limiting his ability to provide Charis, his stepmother—and their houseguest, once Bellemère deemed her presentable—with an escort.
The image of Miss Lambarth's dark eyes and captivating smile flickered in his mind. He'd not seen her since he brought her home from the lawyer's office. For a brief moment, he wondered how she was progressing.
Dismissing that concern, he assured himself he'd not been too precipitous, jumping with both boots into the business of courting Priscilla. But as he parried the gibes of his friends, he couldn't quite stifle the little vo ice at the back of his head warning him that the impetuosity that had had saved his skin on several occasions as a soldier might not have served the civilian quite so well.
CHAPTER 8
The following Thursday afternoon, Helena stood by a
normally unused garden gate, the plain dark cloak Molly had smuggled to her masking her unmistakably genteel gown. A joyous excitement coursing through her, she congratulated herself on the preliminary work she'd done the previous two nights, rising after the other occupants of the house were abed to silently explore the town house from attic to cellars. She now knew the location of every exit, every window overlooking a tree branch, every sheltered corner within the garden where a person could secret herself.
Confident that she and the maid could slip away and back without anyone observing them, she'd spent the morning studying the London map an obliging footman had obtained for her. Even should Molly, who was still less than enthusiastic about the proposed expedition, fail to appear, Helena would be able to navigate her way to St. Marylebone.
Best of all, Lady Darnell had announced at nuncheon that she and Charis would spend the afternoon making calls. Certain now that her absence would not be noted, Helena had returned to her chamber and
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rung for Molly to inform her they could leave as soon as the maid finished her chores.
The soft pad of approaching footsteps told Helena that the maid had decided to accompany her, despite her reservations.
Reveling in the prospect of an afternoon free to achieve her most pressing purpose, she put a finger over her lips to caution Molly to silence, then placed a sovereign in her hand and led her through the gate.
They scurried down the mews without incident and made it to
the hackney stand, where Helena engaged a carriage. For the length of the short drive to St. Marylebone, Helena kept her face pressed to the window, noting the street names and observing every detail.
Throngs of vehicles crowded the roads, carriages and wagons and street vendors with carts calling out their wares. Equally diverse were the people, from housemaids shaking out feather dusters to dustmen hauling refuse to richly dressed ladies and gentlemen descending the steps toward glossy carriages with crests painted on the panels....
