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They were emerging where the edge of the thicket met the overgrown pleasure grounds of the house. Adam turned and began to lead Decima towards the back. There was a small rustic summerhouse and he pushed open the door. ‘Come in here and let me explain.’ Reluctantly Decima let herself be seated on one of the benches that ran around the inside of the little shelter.
Adam shut the door and leaned against it, his face serious in the shadowed room. ‘This is not a joke and not something I am doing lightly, whatever you may think. I should never have offered for Olivia. The circumstances made it impossible not to, and I cannot explain more than that—if she feels she can tell you about it, she will. Once we found ourselves in that position I could not withdraw. At first I thought she could, and might if she realised that I was quite the wrong husband for her. But I had no idea at first just what a degree of subjugation she is held in by her parents’ influence. Her mother in particular. Olivia could no more defy her mother than fly. And then I saw what was happening between her and Henry Freshford. At last I could see a way out.’
‘You saw? I couldn’t understand why you were so tolerant!’ Decima shook her head, still puzzling. ‘Henry loves her, but he is trying to do the honourable thing. Nothing has been said between them, I am sure of it.’
‘So am I,’ Adam retorted grimly. ‘And while I did everything to remind Olivia just how miserable she would be married to me, I did my best to throw her together with Freshford. Your helpful efforts to reconcile her to the match were most unwelcome, I have to say.’
‘But I—’
‘You acted out of friendship and the most honourable of motives, I know.’ He smiled at her and something inside Decima quivered into life. Hope. ‘It is one of the things I love about you.’
Love? Did Adam say love? Decima found her hands were twisting tightly in her skirts and she forced herself to relax them. He loved her as a friend, that was all. They had been talking about friendship.
‘I could see that nothing was going to undermine Freshford’s sense of honour or Olivia’s rigid obedience, other than a major crisis, so I engineered one. I could have gone to him, told him I knew of his feelings, and assured him of my support. But we would never have got Olivia to admit the truth and face up to her mama. And what she would see as certain disgrace.’ Adam grimaced. ‘It took me days to think of something sufficiently convincing, yet that would put none of you at risk.’
‘But has it worked?’
‘Let’s find out.’ Adam held out a hand and Decima took it, her fingers enveloped in his. She was still shaken, but her anger had given way to a feeling of deep apprehension. What if this elaborate ruse had not worked?
They crept up to the back door. Adam reached up and retrieved a key from the ledge above and gently opened it, leading Decima into a kitchen, clean,
equipped, but cold and unused. Walking with catlike tread despite his boots, Adam began to move out of the kitchen, along a passage and through the heavy baize-lined door that separated the servants’ world from that of their masters.
They were in the front hall. All the doors were closed except one, standing ajar on the right-hand side of the front entrance. Adam led the way until they were standing outside. He kept her hand in his and Decima found herself clinging to him, as though bracing herself to hear bad news.
‘They have gone.’ It was Henry’s voice, strong and reassuring. ‘They will have no way of knowing who else is here, and one of them is wounded. They will be off, thinking we can summon the constables. It’s all right now, Olivia. I am here.’
There was the sound of a muffled sob, then feet moving on the boards and Henry’s voice again, less clear. ‘There, there, Olivia, you are quite safe with me.’
‘I know. You were wonderful.’ The adoration in Olivia’s voice was touching. Decima shifted, uncomfortable at eavesdropping. ‘So wonderful. Oh, Sir…oh, Henry!’
Adam, who had been standing with one eye to the narrow hinge opening, grimaced and moved away slightly. As he met Decima’s questioning gaze, he smiled and whispered in her ear, ‘I think this is going to be all right, but I’m damned if I’m playing the Peeping Tom. Give them a moment.’
He appeared to be counting, then gave Decima’s hand a squeeze, released it and pushed the door wide. Henry had Olivia in his arms, her face was tipped up to his and they were kissing with total absorption. Decima found a smile of pure indulgence was spreading across her face and she hastily straightened her expression and coughed. How was Adam intending to play this?
The lovers jumped apart as though a shot had been fired. Olivia went white and burst into tears. Henry, as pale as she, drew himself up to his full height and bowed. ‘I am at your disposal, my lord. Please name your friends.’
‘I find you ravishing my affianced bride and you expect the honour of a duel?’ Adam’s voice was icy. ‘I should fetch a horsewhip.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘No!’ It was Olivia, transformed from a tearful mouse into a spitting cat. ‘Henry was not ravishing me, he would do nothing so dishonourable. We love each other!’ She turned and took Henry’s arm, twining herself close to him. ‘I defy you to accuse him. I know I am ruined, but I do not care!’
‘Let me be the first to congratulate you,’ Adam said warmly.
‘What?’ It was Henry, one arm tight around Olivia’s quivering form. ‘Are you making sport with us, my lord? Because I have to warn you that I have no intention of standing by and seeing you insult this lady. All blame for what has just occurred is mine and I insist—’
‘Stubble it, do,’ Adam interrupted, lapsing into exasperated cant. ‘You love her, she loves you. Miss Channing and I find that we were mutually mistaken in our affections and have agreed, on the friendliest of terms, to sever our contract.’
‘We were? I mean, we are?’ Olivia was staring at him, her pretty face flushed, the snail tracks of tears drying on her cheeks. ‘But the scandal…’
‘What scandal?’ Decima decided it was time to take a hand. ‘Lord Weston, and you and Henry, will all appear in public on the friendliest of terms. Lady Freshford will be delighted, and will say so. Your parents will express their approval—’
‘They will?’ Henry was staring at her, apparently dumbfounded.
‘They will when they realise how wealthy you are,’ Decima retorted. ‘And how generous you will be with the settlements. And, of course, the fact that you will be persuading your cousin the duke to host the wedding at Farleigh. Adam might be a viscount, but he is not closely related to any living dukes, are you?’
‘No, although I am a distant connection of Freshford’s duke.’
