Impossible, page 17
She also realized they were seconds away from creating more of a scene than they already were. Summoning a bright smile, she turned her body toward the door leading outside. “Shall we adjourn to the garden? It’s a lovely summer evening.”
Before she could make eye contact with Max, he’d pivoted and started toward the door. Curiosity burned within her, but she’d have to tamp it down until later. Assuming there would be a later with Max. She had to know why he’d come.
Lucien and his sister Cassandra followed Max, and Glastonbury offered Prudence his arm. Ada hastened to move close to Prudence as they walked outside.
“Don’t judge him too harshly,” Ada whispered.
Prudence slid her a wide-eyed stare. “That’s precisely what he deserves.”
Ada couldn’t argue, and yet she had to. “He’s been through a great deal. That doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it explains it, I think.”
Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about what he’s been through?”
“Not much,” Ada admitted as they stepped into the garden. “And I won’t betray his confidence. Trust me when I say I know enough to understand why he’s been such a colossal mess these past few years. I should think that his coming here is a step forward. Can you give him a chance?”
“I will try, but I can’t promise Bennet won’t trounce him.”
“I won’t promise that either,” Glastonbury said, indicating he’d at least heard what Prudence was saying.
Ada stepped forward and pivoted to give the viscount a haughty stare. “I would beg you to remember the compassion and understanding that others have shown you.”
Glastonbury exhaled. “Yes.”
“I will try, Ada,” Prudence said. “So long as Warfield tries too.”
Nodding, Ada motioned for everyone to move to an area near a torch where they could conduct their discussion. They formed a circle, and Ada positioned herself between Max and Prudence.
“I’ll reiterate that there will be no hitting,” Ada announced. “Now, who would like to speak first?”
No one said anything. Cassandra, who could always be counted on to talk, finally spoke. “Lord Warfield has come to town to speak to his half sister, apparently.” Her voice carried disdain, indicating she was clearly in support of her cousin, Prudence. Ada would have been too, but she’d come to know and understand Max. She was thrilled that he’d come to see Prudence.
Max’s expression was impassive and perhaps bordering on irritated, which worried Ada. “I came to give Prudence her dowry.”
Ada brushed the back of her hand against Max’s. It was the best she could do when what she really wanted was to take his hand and kiss it and convey how happy she was that he’d decided to do this.
“That’s wonderful,” Ada said, barely containing her joy.
Max looked down at her, his brow slightly creasing. She had no idea what he was thinking.
Cassandra, who stood between Glastonbury and Lucien, smiled at Prudence. “Better late than not at all, I suppose.”
Max flicked a glance toward Prudence, but fixed his gaze across the garden. “I want to apologize for not giving it to you before. I was, er, shocked to learn you existed.”
Ada could feel his tension. She inched closer to him, hoping her nearness would soothe him. Or at least let him know he had an ally.
“Is three thousand pounds adequate?” Max asked.
It was an astonishing sum, but Ada knew he could afford it. She brushed her hand against his again, hoping he understood how proud she was of him. She’d tell him so as soon as she had the chance.
Prudence exchanged a look of surprise with her husband before she addressed Max. “That’s most generous, thank you. I know you don’t have to give me anything. By law, I have no claim whatsoever.”
“You aren’t responsible for the circumstances of your birth,” Max said quietly, which was almost exactly what Ada had said. “Nor are you to blame for my father’s perfidy.” The anger and hurt in his voice were unmistakable.
Prudence’s features softened. “Thank you. No one was more distressed to learn of my real parents than me. My mother—the woman who reared me—told me before she died, and I sometimes wish I didn’t know.”
Max nodded slowly. “I can understand that. I wish I didn’t know that my father had been unfaithful. It rather changes what we thought we knew to be true, doesn’t it? The very way we view the world.”
“Precisely,” Prudence said softly.
Ada’s heart swelled. She hoped she was seeing the beginning of a wonderful sibling relationship—they could both benefit from it. Or perhaps Ada was just projecting her own desires on them. Having lost her family, she realized she was always looking for a replacement, even if it wasn’t in her best interest.
Prudence gave him a look that was both tentative and sympathetic. “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.”
Ada felt Max tense—his arm twitched, sliding gently against hers. She wanted to clasp him, to let him know she cared.
Glastonbury cleared his throat. “Thank you for the dowry, Warfield. It is deeply appreciated. I hope this won’t be the last time you and Prudence talk or spend time together.” He slid his arm around Prudence’s waist and drew her close.
“I’m grateful that you appear to care for my sister,” Max said rather flatly, making Ada wonder what was going on in his mind. “Just promise you’ll never be unfaithful.”
Glastonbury’s blue gaze turned to flint. “I would never. Pru has my entire heart.”
A lovely smile lit Prudence’s face, and Ada felt a surge of envy. What she wouldn’t give to share a lasting love like that. Alas, she doubted that would ever happen. Ada certainly didn’t expect it to, nor was she certain she’d have the courage to pursue it. It seemed that fate kept telling her she should be alone.
Ada slid a covert glance at Max. Brow furrowed and jaw tight, he appeared unsettled. She didn’t want to ask and draw attention to any discomfort he might be feeling. Disappointment snagged at her mind—she thought this encounter had gone rather well.
“I should get back inside,” Cassandra said. “No doubt Ruark is wondering where I’ve gone to.”
Max inclined his head toward Prudence and Glastonbury. “I’ll arrange for the dowry payment.”
Prudence looked him solemnly in the eye. “Thank you. Truly.”
Nodding, Max clasped his hands behind his back. Prudence and Glastonbury turned and walked toward the club. Cassandra and Lucien followed.
Ada stayed back, waiting until they were out of earshot before facing Max. The same thrill she’d experienced upon seeing him wound through her again. She was so glad he was here. “I’m so pleased to see you. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Because I know you, and there’s a telltale set to your jaw.”
He shook his head at her, exhaling. “You are far too clever for your own good. Certainly for mine. I was hoping I might have a few minutes to speak with Prudence alone. I should have realized that was too much to expect.”
“Tonight, perhaps, yes. But I feel confident she’d like to speak with you too. Will you allow me to arrange a meeting?”
“You’d do that?” He nearly smiled. “Of course you would. Is ‘meddlesome’ your middle name?”
“No, actually it’s Constance. That was my mother’s name.”
“That’s an even better fit—you never waver. In anything.”
Ada laughed. “I want to be flattered, but coming from you, I’m not sure that’s the way you mean it.”
“It is a compliment. But only for you.”
A ridiculous flutter passed from her heart to the pit of her stomach. This emotion swirling inside her—this besottedness—was most persistent. “Thank you. Once I set up your meeting with Prudence, where shall I send notice?”
He blinked at her.
“Your lodgings here in London,” she prodded.
“Oh, yes. I’m staying here, actually.”
“At the Phoenix Club?” Her voice climbed on the last word, and she hoped he didn’t notice.
“Lucien invited me since I was staying at a hotel.”
Dear sweet temptation! That meant he’d be on the second floor of the club on the men’s side—a short walk through a hidden doorway from her own apartment. Ada wasn’t going to tell him that. She knew what would happen next. Or at least later, after the assembly.
Assuming he still wanted her the way she wanted him. Perhaps he didn’t. There was always the chance that their one night together had been plenty for him. Yes, that would be for the best.
Still, Ada wasn’t taking that chance. Knowing he was so close was bad enough. Telling him would be even worse.
Ada glanced toward the club. “I suppose I should go back inside.”
“Does your job require it?”
Did that mean he wanted her to stay? “Not really.”
“It’s good to see you.”
Ada’s entire body flushed with heat along with that incessant emotion. “I’m glad to see you too. How did things go with Mrs. Tallent?”
He frowned. “Not well. I forgot about the meeting. You could have done more to prepare me than leave an impersonal note on my desk. Neither of us knew what we were supposed to discuss.”
“Oh dear, that is entirely my fault. I’m afraid I was rushed. I slept later than I should have for some reason.” Her cheeks flushed, and she avoided his gaze. “In hindsight, I think I should have delayed my departure.”
“Mrs. Tallent and Mrs. Bundle would have appreciated that. I’m afraid I wasn’t my best self.” He blew out a breath. “I was my old self.”
That he thought of himself in terms of old and, hopefully, new made her want to turn circles of joy. “I hope they weren’t too upset. This is a transition for everyone.”
“They’re fine. I think. Og is the one who got worked up. I wanted to leave yesterday, but the new grooms started, and Og was adamant that we couldn’t leave his precious stable with brand-new retainers.”
Ada laughed at the edge of sarcasm in Max’s speech. “Was he horribly put out?”
“You should have seen him stamping about and growling. I believe he was also hissing.”
“Like a snake?” Ada giggled.
“That’s what Archie said—he was there to help.”
“Poor Og.” She realized that Og must have driven him to town. “Where is Og now? Should I fear for London?”
Max quirked a brief smile. “Perhaps. I doubt he’ll cause any trouble, but then it’s been a while since he was here.”
“How long has it been for you?” she asked quietly.
“More than a year.” He sent a furtive glance toward the club. “I admit to feeling uncomfortable.” Taking a deep breath, he shook out his shoulders. “I’ll manage. I won’t be here long.”
Ada cloaked her disappointment. “Well, let me see how quickly I can arrange your meeting with Prudence.” She wondered if she could postpone it—just a bit—in order to keep him here longer.
That would be rather self-serving. Ada was many things, but selfish wasn’t one of them.
“I’ll escort you back inside.” Max offered her his arm.
She knew the moment she touched him, her body would react with heat and hunger. She wasn’t wrong. As soon as her fingertips grazed his sleeve, she had to tell herself not to grab him shamelessly.
Attraction was a fascinating thing. It took no thought and seemed to be some sort of natural connection between certain people, or sometimes only for one person, Ada supposed. Attraction after being intimate with someone was an entirely different animal. There was a knowledge and awareness that made every look, every touch, every moment in that person’s company something greater and more arousing than before.
Ada was still very attracted to Max, but it was worse—now she knew exactly what she was missing. She sighed softly as they walked together back into the club.
More’s the pity since she’d never experience it again.
Chapter 13
What in the bloody hell was Max doing crammed into a London hack with Dougal and Lucien as if they were twenty years old? Although, they were rather more subdued now as compared to then, and far more sober.
Max was aware that his clothing was slightly out of fashion and his hair too long. He didn’t think he would care, but now that they were out, he wished he’d taken the trouble to visit the tailor and the barber. Or perhaps hire a valet.
Good God, he was becoming the man he’d been trying not to become. The old Max. No, the Viscount Warfield.
He didn’t deserve to be that man. He was such an imposter filling his brother’s shoes.
Would Ada help him hire a valet while he was in London? She was the only person he trusted to do that.
Ada had sent him a note earlier that Prudence had agreed to meet with him tomorrow. Which was good because then Max could leave Monday.
Only, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. This was the first time he’d been in London in years that he wasn’t a complete disaster. He’d actually made it through last night’s assembly without feeling awful. He suspected that was because of Ada. She’d hovered around him until he’d retreated to his new chamber on the second floor. It was easier to ignore those around him when he had Ada to focus on.
Leaving Monday meant he wouldn’t have time to meet with Lady Peterborough, which he was still considering. He was stupidly curious about aspects of her relationship with his father. How had it happened? Had he loved her? Did she regret it? Perhaps most importantly, had his father?
He realized he might not like her answers. Indeed, he expected not to. Why torture himself, then? Because he had to know, and he bloody well couldn’t ask his father.
“You’re pensive this evening,” Dougal said, looking at Max, as if it wasn’t obvious who he was talking about. Max wasn’t sure Lucien could ever look pensive.
“Pensive or disgruntled?” Lucien asked with a laugh.
“I’m not in the mood for teasing,” Max growled. “Ever.”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re going to be sour, why are we doing this? I’d be perfectly happy back at the Phoenix Club.”
Dougal snorted. “We know. Getting you to come out tonight was more difficult than persuading Max.” Apparently, Lucien rarely left his club in the evenings.
Max wanted the make the most of this night. Who knew when they would ever do it again? “I’ll endeavor to be more…pleasant.” He realized—without the unhelpful stares of doubt from his friends—that pleasant was a lofty aspiration. “Er, how about just less sulky?”
Dougal laughed, and Lucien smiled.
They approached the intersection of Piccadilly and the Haymarket. The Siren’s Call was just beyond it on Coventry Street.
The hack dropped them on the other side of the intersection.
“Ready, lads?” Lucien asked with a hearty grin, just as he used to do in their youth. Max felt an odd but welcome buoyancy, as if he could let go of his cares for a while. He hadn’t done that in ages.
“Do you remember the first time we came here?” Max asked.
Dougal laughed. “When we thought it was a brothel? How randy we were, and so sure of ourselves.” He rolled his eyes. “I forget who told us to come, leading us to believe we would be able to dip our quills in the well, and had a good laugh at our expense.”
“It was Oliver Kent,” Lucien said. “He still crows about it.”
Max hadn’t thought of Kent in years. A powerful and well-regarded member of Parliament, Kent could easily be their father, but possessed the sense of humor of a lad at school. He’d never been married and managed to be liked and respected by nearly everyone. He was particularly known for guiding young bucks on their path to debauchery. But he did it with such good humor and efficiency that no one faulted him for it. Probably because he was the first to help someone in need—quietly, of course. Indeed, he’d visited Max after he’d returned from Spain and still wrote from time to time. Max had never responded.
“Does Kent still frequent this place?” Max asked, wondering if he was going to have to answer for his rude behavior.
“No idea,” Lucien responded. “I haven’t been here in years.”
“Me neither,” Dougal added as they neared the club.
“You know I haven’t,” Max said rather unnecessarily.
Dougal moved between them and put his arms around their shoulders. “I’m glad we’re here now. Into the breach!” He led them to the door, where a footman admitted them.
Memories assaulted Max as he stepped inside the large main room of the club. Round tables covered with purple linen sat at intervals, many of which were occupied by gentlemen. Provocatively dressed women glided about, some offering drinks while others simply stopped to chat with patrons.
A large arched doorway with purple drapes led to the gaming room. Shouts and laughter carried into the main room, tempting Max. He’d won—and lost—a great deal of money here.
“Gambling tonight?” Dougal asked as if he could read Max’s mind. But then he likely recalled how much Max had enjoyed the tables. They all had.
“I’m a bit long in the tooth for that,” Max responded wryly.
As they made their way into the main room, heads turned, and the murmurs started along with the looks—gazes focused on Max’s face briefly until they turned away in alarm or disgust. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, determined to stay.
He could suffer this. He’d endured far worse.
“Och!” A woman with bright red hair stopped in front of them. She put her hands on her ample hips and looked from Lucien to Dougal and then to Max, where her attention arrested on his face. “Hunt?” she asked, her eyes agog. “What the devil happened to ye?” Her Scottish brogue, thicker than Dougal’s, was as pronounced as it had been a decade earlier.
“The war, Becky,” Max said evenly. “I was in Spain.”
“I forgot about that.” She leaned close, standing on her toes so his cheek was at her eye level. “Looks like ye were burned. Imagine that hurt like hell. I’d say it makes ye ugly, but in truth, it gives ye a dashing, mayhap dangerous, air.” She stood back and narrowed an assessing eye at him. “I like it.”
