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‘I have done nothing to Pru! What the devil is this about? Decima, I’m trying to apologise for hitting your infuriating brother yesterday. I wish I’d done it harder, but I upset you, so now I have to wish I’d never done it at all.’
‘But you told Bates he couldn’t have the cottage! He and Pru think he would lose his place if they marry—and to do that just because I asked you to go yesterday—that is so unfair.’ Decima freed her arm and moved back a little so she could watch Adam’s face without the distracting closeness. ‘Of course you should not have hit Charlton, and he was quite within his rights to be angry, finding us like that. He is pompous and overbearing, but he is my brother. What else could I do but tell you to leave? What if Olivia had come to hear of it? She still might.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘But to take it out on poor Pru—I could not believe you would do such a thing.’
Adam’s expression had run from puzzlement, through enlightenment to rueful amusement. ‘It’s not funny,’ Decima snapped.
‘I agree. I was mocking myself. Do you know, I had been existing under the illusion that I was in control of my life, my household, my destiny, and now I find that I am merely the plaything of my staff. Did Pru tell you in so many words that I had withdrawn the offer of the cottage, or that I had forbidden Bates to marry her?’
‘No…’ Decima wrinkled her brow in an effort to recall the exact words. ‘No, not exactly. She said that Jethro—Bates—did not think he would be able to have the cottage after all, and he might lose his place and you were—what was it?—oh, yes, on the high ropes.’
‘Decima, my love, has it occurred to you that we are both being manipulated by our servants? Pru and Bates obviously decided that we had quarrelled and that we were unlikely to get back on speaking terms again without a powerful incentive.’
‘You mean they are matchmaking? But…but…You are engaged! What did you call me?’
There was a tap at the door and the butler was inside before Adam could speak. Decima blinked at the man. Knocking at all, let alone sliding into rooms looking decidedly shifty, was not the sort of behaviour one expected of a top-flight butler.
‘My lord, Mrs Channing’s barouche has just driven up.’
‘Hell. Thank you, Dalrymple, I am sure you can make quite a business of taking the ladies’ things and showing them into the salon.’
The butler allowed himself a grimace. ‘I have never yet succeeded in ushering Mrs Channing anywhere she does not wish to go. She is aware that you normally spend some time in the study in the morning. If the lady would care to come with me, it would be safer—’ He broke off at the sound of the knocker, then they all froze. Someone was opening it and there was the sound of voices.
‘Peters—I believed him to be in the kitchens.’ Dalrymple lowered his voice. ‘I can hardly open this door and go out now…’
‘Stall.’ Adam seized Decima’s wrist and pulled her towards a cupboard door in the alcove beside the fireplace. ‘There should be room.’
Decima found herself squeezed into a space that seemed to be half filled with books and boxes. With the pressure of Adam’s body against hers she wriggled onto a shelf, managing to perch on the narrow ledge, her face squashed against his shirt front, her knees pressed into his thighs.
The door shut behind them, apparently with Dalrymple’s full weight against it, for Adam was pushed even harder against her. Then a familiar voice penetrated the panels.
‘There you are, Dalrymple. Where is Lord Weston?’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I regret that his lordship is not at home, ma’am.’
‘I saw movement in this room as the carriage arrived.’ Decima wondered from whence Mrs Channing got her overwhelming self-confidence.
‘You must have glimpsed me, ma’am. I was just ascertaining that his lordship’s inkwells had been filled. One cannot rely on new footmen, I regret to say. Would you and Miss Channing care to take some refreshments in the salon, ma’am?’
‘When will Lord Weston return?’ Mrs Channing was obviously not best pleased to find her quarry not available.
‘I really could not say, ma’am. I am quite unable to speculate on what his lordship might be doing at this moment.’ The butler’s voice faded as the study door was shut.
‘The old devil,’ Adam muttered against Decima’s cheek. ‘I am unable to speculate indeed! Are you giggling?’
‘Yes,’ Decima admitted, struggling to suppress her chuckles. ‘I have to say, you do have the most unconventional servants.’
‘I know. That’s what comes of inheriting most of them. They have known me since I was a grubby brat in nankeens; although they normally do their utmost to preserve my
dignity, I suspect it is for their own self-esteem, not mine. If you could try and giggle without wriggling I would be grateful.’
‘S…sorry,’ Decima managed to gasp. ‘Why? Do you think we might be heard?’
‘No, because I very badly want to kiss you.’ He said it in a matter-of-fact whisper that effectively stifled the slightest desire to laugh.
‘Adam! Olivia is in the next room!’ Decima pulled herself together. ‘In any case, you should not be thinking such a thing, it is highly improper.’
‘I’d have to be a hundred and ten not to be thinking such things in this position,’ he said darkly. ‘I don’t think we could be any closer together unless we removed all our clothes.’ Decima gave a small squeak of alarm and felt, more than heard, his gasp of amusement against her neck. ‘Relax, I’m not a contortionist.’
