Impossible, page 24
The door closed, leaving Ada alone with the man she’d once loved. The man whose child she’d carried and who’d broken her heart. No, she’d served up her heart to be broken by engaging in such a foolish affair in the first place.
Ada hadn’t meant to fall in love with Jonathan, even knowing his wife hadn’t loved him herself. Their marriage had been arranged when they were children, and Letitia had made no secret about not even finding him attractive. Ada sometimes wondered if the things Letitia said had prompted Ada’s tendre for him, that perhaps she’d felt bad for him to be trapped in a marriage in which neither he nor his wife were particularly happy. Like Ada, Jonathan deserved to be loved and appreciated. Though they’d tried to resist their mutual attraction—and had for over a year—their lonely hearts had latched on to each other, and Ada had convinced herself that it was all right, that what they shared was pure and true, even though he was already married to another. She hadn’t thought past her own need for love and intimacy. In many ways, she felt as much guilt for her behavior with Jonathan as she did for her sister’s death.
Jonathan came to perch beside her on the settee, pulling her from her reverie. He angled his body toward her and set his hat down behind him on the cushion. He gazed at her with an expression she’d seen many times—abject longing. Did he still harbor feelings for her? “You look so very well.”
“Thank you. I am well. How did you find me?”
“I hired someone, actually. It took some time to locate you.” He glanced around the office. “What sort of club is this? What is it you do here?”
There was a touch of alarm in his questions, and she wondered what he thought the Phoenix Club was. “It’s a members’ club—for men and women. It’s unlike anything else in London. I am the bookkeeper.” She cocked her head. “What did you think I was?”
Relief relaxed his features. “Honestly, I had no idea. But when I was told the other side was for women only and this side was for men, my imagination ran a bit wild.”
“Did you think I’d become a prostitute?” She’d told him what she’d done that one time, when she’d been at her absolute lowest. “I said I’d never do that again.”
“I know, but life can be difficult.” He reached for her hand. “I would never judge you for it, my darling. I still love you so very much.”
His feelings hadn’t waned. She never expected this. “Why are you here?”
“Letitia died last year giving birth to our fourth child. She’s a girl, which has delighted Rebecca.”
Ada was sad that his wife had died, especially in childbirth. It was one of her greatest fears. Leaving a child motherless and vulnerable was perhaps the primary reason Ada had decided not to have the baby. “I’m so sorry about Letitia.” She patted his hand and then drew hers away, which was awkward since his hand was in her lap.
He took the hint, however, and pulled it back. “It has been difficult, particularly on the children. Rebecca has tried to play mother, which shouldn’t surprise you.”
Rebecca was his eldest daughter, a commanding and inquisitive child whom Ada had adored. She would be ten by now. There were also two boys, daring and playful.
“No, that doesn’t surprise me,” Ada murmured. She did miss his children. And for a long time, she’d missed Jonathan.
“You can probably imagine why I’ve come.” His eyes held an expectant glimmer.
“I can’t, actually.” Did he want to ask her to return as his governess so they could continue their affair? She’d never told him about the child. What would have been the point? She’d simply given her notice, saying she’d found another position.
“I want you to be my wife. To be the mother of my children. They adore you so. They can hardly wait for me to return with you.”
She blinked at him. “You told them you were coming to see me?”
“To fetch you. Honestly, part of the reason I decided to look for you, aside from my own desires and the love I still have for you, was them, Rebecca in particular. Six months after her mother died, she came to see me and said it was time I found a new mother for them. She suggested you, but I must confess I never stopped thinking about you. Our months together were the happiest of my life. I’m ashamed to say that Letitia’s death filled me with hope that we might have a future together. I’m so pleased to find you haven’t wed someone else.”
Ada couldn’t help feeling a rush of happiness that Rebecca wanted to have her for a mother. But then she felt a surge of dread that Jonathan’s feelings hadn’t changed while hers had. She decided to ignore the latter in favor of the former. “I do miss the children. They’re all well?”
“Very, including the babe. Her name is Constance.”
All the air left Ada’s lungs. “Not for me?” She practically squeaked the last word.
“Only I know that, but yes. As I said, you’ve never been far from my mind, Ada. Or my heart. I would have started to search for you sooner, but I thought I should observe a mourning period—for the children.”
This was so strange and unexpected. Ada felt as though she were watching this encounter as a spectator, as if it were happening to someone else. She couldn’t return his sentiments as much as she might want to. Did she want to? This was all she’d wanted for so long—a family to call her own, a place where she was wanted and needed. “I’ve, ah, been so fortunate here at the Phoenix Club. I am quite content.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, but you can’t want to stay here forever? I want you to come back to Cornwall with me. You’ll be mistress of Tidwell and mother to four children who already love you—plus any others we will have together.” His brown eyes shone with love and hope.
Ada couldn’t ignore that it was tempting, especially the part about future children. She’d never even dared to dream that would be possible, that she and Jonathan could live happily as husband and wife with children of their own. To do so would mean she’d wished for his wife to die, and she’d never wanted that.
“This is such a shock,” was all she could manage to say. She was more than happy at the Phoenix Club and with her current life.
A life that, at the moment anyway, included a certain viscount she was, unfortunately and unrequitedly, madly in love with.
“I can imagine,” he said. “I’m sure you need time to think and to adjust to such a big change. You seem to have a good life here, and I presume leaving it might be difficult. I can only hope you’ll want to.” He gave her a warm, encouraging smile, reminding her of his kindness and concern, traits she’d adored, especially after the cold bitterness of her own family.
She would at least do him the courtesy of considering his proposal. It was the sensible thing to do, and if she’d learned to be nothing else, she was sensible. He was offering her a lifetime of security and love. A family. A permanent place. “I presume you’re staying somewhere in town?”
“Yes, with an old friend from my school days—Reginald Huxton.”
“I know Reggie. He and his wife are members here.” Ada had no idea they knew Jonathan, but then why would she?
“I didn’t realize. I wasn’t specific about where I was going today.” He lifted his hand as if he were going to touch her again but then changed his mind and set it back in his lap.
Ada gently exhaled with relief. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about seeing Jonathan again, but she knew she wasn’t ready to resume their relationship. She stood, eager to be alone with her thoughts. Or at least not with him.
Jonathan also got to his feet. “When can I see you next?”
“I’m not sure. You’ve given me a great deal to think about. I do have a good life here and I’m very happy.”
“You look happy. There’s an air of joyful calm about you, but then you always possessed such a positive energy.”
“You used to say I was brighter than the sun.” She felt a surge of nostalgia and perhaps a bit of sadness for what she’d lost. But she’d come to terms with that some time ago.
“You still are.” He took her hand and kissed the back. “You know where to find me. Just know that I’ll be back if I don’t hear from you soon.”
She followed him to the door, holding it as he left. Evie and Lucien stood just inside the members’ den. They watched as Jonathan walked from the office, then hastened to join Ada.
“What did he want?” Evie asked.
Ada blinked as if she were coming out of a trance. “His wife died. He asked me to marry him.”
Evie’s eyes rounded, and Lucien wiped a hand over his face.
Evie looked at her expectantly. “What did you say?”
“That I had to think about it.” Ada’s insides roiled—this was so utterly unexpected.
“Are you truly considering it?” Evie sounded as if she were holding her breath.
“I don’t know. I think I’d be foolish not to. There’s a great deal of security in being a gentleman’s wife.” It was as if she were trying to convince herself, which she supposed she was.
“You have security here,” Evie said, sounding irritated. “This is far greater than anything a gentleman can give you. Particularly one who took advantage of his station as your employer.”
Ada wasn’t surprised by Evie’s reaction, nor did it bother her. “I was as much to blame as he was. He didn’t take anything I didn’t freely offer.” She belatedly realized they were having this conversation in front of Lucien. Heat climbed her neck, and she cast a nervous glance toward him.
“I’m afraid I agree with Evie,” he said. “He absolutely took advantage, even if you encouraged him. Gentlemen don’t conduct liaisons with their governess or any of their other employees, for that matter.”
Ada knew she’d been naïve and forlorn. She’d wanted a connection with anyone, and Jonathan had wanted that too. “But he’s here now declaring his love and proposing marriage. Our behavior in the past was wrong, but I won’t blame him for it when I was an eager participant.”
“Do you still love him?” Evie asked softly. “When I first met you, I wondered if you’d ever get over leaving him. But you haven’t mentioned him in a very long time. Indeed, I’m not sure you spoke of him after we left Cornwall.”
Because Ada had promised herself that she would leave him and the love she’d felt for him there when she’d come to London with Evie. So, she’d never spoken of him.
Evie’s question thundered in her mind: did she still love him?
“No, I don’t love him anymore.” The answer came fast and certain. “I am fond of him, and I always will be. He gave me solace and hope when I had none.”
A shocking thought rose in her mind: perhaps she hadn’t really loved Jonathan at all. Or perhaps it was that her love, or the way she loved, had changed. Because what she felt for Max was wholly different. Max made her feel brighter than the sun.
But Max wasn’t offering marriage nor would he ever.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve work to do.” Ada summoned a half-hearted smile and returned to the ladies’ side of the club.
Chapter 19
The Duke of Evesham’s butler showed Max up to the drawing room. In his youth, Max had been in this house several times before with Lucien. It looked much the same and still carried the austere elegance one would associate with the duke.
But Max wasn’t here to see Lucien’s father. He was calling on Lucien’s aunt, Lady Peterborough. She was currently residing with her brother after leaving her husband’s household. Prudence had told Max that once her existence was known, Lord Peterborough had tried to send his wife to a convent in Wales. Evesham had intervened and brought his sister here.
Lady Peterborough was not in the drawing room when Max went in. The butler left him to meander about the room. He removed his hat and did a circuit before realizing he was nervous. He took a position near a window and Lady Peterborough swept in, her dark-brown-and-gray hair intricately styled atop her head, a coral necklace at her throat, and a persimmon gown cloaking her round frame.
The countess didn’t get very far, for as soon as she saw Max, she stopped short, her gaze fixing on him. “Good heavens, you look even more like your father now.” She blinked and moved toward him. “Except for those nasty scars, of course.” She spoke matter-of-factly, without a hint of malice, and he assumed she was a woman who said what she wanted. He respected that. It also meant he would learn what he came to discover. He hoped that would be the case.
“You knew my father very well,” he said, not certain how to begin.
She laughed softly as she sailed to a chair near the center of the room and sat down. “I think you know that since you are aware of your half sister, who is my daughter. Thank you for giving her a dowry, even if it was late.” She wrinkled her nose slightly as she clasped her hands in her lap.
Max took a chair opposite her and rested his elbow on the arm. “I was quite shocked to learn about her,” he said evenly. Hell, if she was going to speak plainly, so was he. “I keep saying that, but the truth was that I was hurt and furious to learn my father had been unfaithful to my mother.”
“And not just with me.” She pressed her lips together. “You may not have known that. I apologize.”
“I did not,” he said tightly, wondering if he’d ever known his father at all. “I suppose that means he didn’t really love my mother, that he was unhappy with her.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” The countess tipped her head as she regarded him. “Honestly, he didn’t talk about your mother, and I didn’t ask.”
“I believe you were otherwise occupied,” he said sardonically and with a hint of enmity.
“Being lovers, you mean. It was more than that. I cared deeply for him. He was a wonderful man. His death saddened me greatly.”
He didn’t give a damn about her feelings regarding his father. “Wonderful men aren’t adulterous.” Max hated him anew even as he missed him terribly. “His death devastated me, as did my mother’s.”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Why have you come today?”
This was where he struggled to explain. “I suppose I wanted to know about your relationship with him, whether you loved each other.”
“I have been trapped in an unhappy marriage, and your father was charming and complimentary. He made me feel…exceptional.” There was a glimmer of something in her eye. She may not have loved his father, but he could see that she had indeed cared for him.
“Did my mother know about you or Prudence?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure. Your father was very supportive when I told him I was carrying. I’d hoped Peterborough would just accept the child as his own since I’d already given him an heir and a spare.”
“He refused?” Max knew the answer, but wanted to hear her tell what happened.
“Oh, yes. He was beyond furious. He sent me to a convent until I birthed Prudence. Your father had arranged for her care.”
“My father did that?”
“Yes. He wanted to ensure our child was adopted by a family, that she would be raised in a good household. Prudence’s adopted father was a teacher. She’s well educated, if you don’t know.”
Max heard pride in her voice. “Was it difficult to give her away?”
“Nearly impossible. But I had no choice. Your father considered taking her, but it was a flight of fancy. He admitted he couldn’t. I suppose based on that, it’s likely your mother wasn’t aware of me or Prudence.”
Thinking back to his mother’s death, Max recalled his father’s grief. He’d certainly appeared to love her. “I’m struggling to understand my father’s infidelity. I never would have guessed he loved anyone other than my mother.”
“Perhaps he didn’t. One does not need to be in love to engage in an affair. You haven’t loved all the women you’ve… well, you know. Have you?”
Of course he hadn’t. But it had been a long time. He’d loved Lucia desperately. And since her there had only been Ada. He was fairly certain he loved her too. The anguish that caused him nearly bent him in two.
“I have been in love,” he said softly as he looked her dead in the eye. “And I would never be able to be with anyone but that woman.” He suddenly wondered if he was somehow being unfaithful to Lucia. No, she would want him to carry on. Of that, he was certain.
“Your father would be proud of you. I understand things have been difficult for you since returning from the war. You were terribly wounded?”
He nodded. “I’m getting better, however.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. I saw Prudence yesterday, and she said that you and she had a nice walk the other day. She also said she thought you might carry forward as siblings. Your father would be thrilled to know that. I hope that gives you solace.”
He didn’t want it to—because he was still angry with his father—but it did. And he supposed that was why he’d come today, for whatever insight into his father this woman could provide. Knowing that he’d arranged for his daughter’s care and would be gladdened for her and Max to be siblings made him feel…lighter. It made him think the anger he felt would fade in time. Perhaps this was like his other wounds, and with time and care, he would overcome the pain and forgive his father. Ada would say that was a brilliantly sensible way to think about it.
Max stood. “Thank you for seeing me today.”
“You even sound rather like him.” A wistful smile curled her lips. “It was my pleasure to spend time with you, Warfield. I hope I’ll see you again.”
“I suppose we will since we appear to be family. Good day.” He turned and left, making his way downstairs. As he stepped into the entry hall, he saw Lucien doing the same, coming from Max’s right.
Sporting a bright yellow cravat, Lucien blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I called on your aunt.”
“I hope that went well.”
The air between them felt stilted, but Max supposed that was appropriate since the last time they’d seen each other, they’d exchanged blows. Everything Ada had said to him about Lucien and their friendship rose in his mind—loudly.
