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So, not an ex-mistress hoping to presume on past favours, then. ‘Show her in, Dalrymple.’
‘In here, my lord? Into your study?’ The man looked scandalised.
‘Certainly in here.’ It would be just like Mrs Channing to discover she had forgotten her parasol and return unexpectedly, and he had no intention of being found entertaining strange ladies in his drawing room. The butler bowed stiffly and went out.
‘Madam,’ he announced frigidly, holding the door for her to enter, then left, shutting it behind him with a decided click. The lady was alone.
Adam stared at his visitor for several seconds, half-convinced he was hallucinating. If it were not for her height, he would have thought he was looking at a complete stranger, an exquisitely dressed, elegantly coiffed young matron.
Then she smiled, curving her wide, generous mouth. Freckles danced across her cheeks as they rounded with the smile and the cool grey eyes sparkled. ‘My lord.’
‘Decima.’ Adam was across the room and had caught her in his arms before he could think. She gave a little gasp, but did not resist him, and her face tipped trustingly up to his. ‘Oh, God. I thought I’d never find you again.’
Her mouth was soft under his hard kiss, opening to him with an innocence that his previous embraces had still not taught to be knowing. It was that very innocence, the sweet scent of her, the way her palm fluttered against his cheek, that brought him to himself.
‘Decima,’ he said again, stepping back. ‘Forgive me, I was taken by surprise at seeing you. Please, will you not sit down.’ He gestured towards a chair, feeling hideously gauche, as formal now he had just been unforgivably free with her.
‘Thank you.’ She sank down gracefully and sat poised, watching him. She smiled suddenly, her nose wrinkling endearingly, and the elegant lady vanished to be replaced by the hoyden who groomed her own horses. ‘I was pleased to see you, too.’
Adam tugged at the bell pull before sitting opposite her. His heart was beating like a drum. Nothing mattered except that she was there.
‘Refreshments,’ he said impatiently as the butler appeared. He wanted to be alone with her, talk to her, put her at her ease—put himself at his ease, if it came to that.
‘You look…’ He struggled for the right word. ‘You look incredible. I hardly recognised you.’ Oh, no, that was hardly the most tactful thing to have said!
Decima produced the gurgle of laughter that never failed to make his heart stutter. ‘Better than when I was grooming horses, perhaps? Or perhaps better than my kitchen-maid look?’
‘Not better, just different.’ What was the matter with him? Normally he had the smooth tongue and the flattering touch of the accomplished rake. Decima reduced him to a gibbering idiot in seconds. ‘Have you forgiven me?’ Better get it over with. ‘I now know your brother’s name and who it was I fled from rather than meet before New Year.’
‘Oh.’ She looked at him, her head slightly tipped to one side like a curious robin. ‘How?’
‘I saw your portrait at Lady Brotherton’s.’
‘Oh,’ she said again, dropping her gaze to her clasped hands. ‘Hideous, is it not?’
‘I thought it was sad that no one seemed capable of seeing your true beauty,’ he said gently, and was rewarded by a glowing look from her grey eyes.
‘Thank you. You seem to see something that other people do not, which is kind of you.’
‘I am not kind,’ he retorted roughly. ‘Why have you come?’ Damn it, Adam, why not show a complete lack of finesse while you’re about it?
‘Ah. Now that is difficult.’ Her gaze dropped again and the colour mounted in her cheeks. ‘It was hard to come and speak to you like this, I don’t deny it. Especially after all the things I said about marriage and matchmakers.’
Her colour was positively hectic now. With a visible effort she raised her eyes to his face and said, ‘You might not be…happy about what I have to say, but I think one should be…honest about…about love.’
Love? She was telling him she loved him? ‘Decima.’ He reached out and took her hands in his. ‘Decima, I think you had better say what you mean.’
‘This is very difficult. Has Bates said anything to you?’
‘Bates? Go away,’ he snapped at Dalrymple, who opened the door, a tray of refreshments neatly balanced on one gloved hand.
‘Very good, my lord.’ The butler executed a smart turn and removed himself.
‘What the hell has Bates got to do with anything?’ She was going to tell him she had fallen passionately for Bates, that was it. His life could hardly be in more of a mess.
‘It is Pru. I think she is in love with him. But you know what he’s like—so taciturn. I thought if you could drop a hint, let him know where she was to be found—then, if he was interested in her, he might make contact.’
‘I see,’ Adam said flatly, sitting back in his chair. ‘So this is all about Bates and Pru. You would not have come to find me if it had not been for that. Just how serious is it?’
