Chapter Thirty-Four
“Where are we?” Adelaide asked drowsily. The curtains of the carriage were still drawn closed, and she had lost all sense of time and place as she lay in Nick’s arms. How many minutes had passed? Or was it now hours?
Nick parted the curtains just enough to peer out. “Mayfair. We will be at your residence shortly, unless…” He hesitated. “There is always Gretna Green. We could—”
“There is no unless, Nick,” Adelaide said firmly. She sat up and began the impossible task of setting herself to rights. “I will not run away again.”
When her shift was once more properly in place—rather than circling her waist like a child’s hoop—she reached for her dress. The icing had hardened, forming a crunchy shell over the bodice. She sighed. It was completely unwearable.
“Here, take my jacket,” he offered.
She allowed him to help her into it. Thanks to their absurd difference in height, it hung to her knees. “Well, at least it covers my important bits.”
“All your bits are important.” He fastened the buttons as he spoke. “Do you remember the day I came to take you for a drive? You were barefoot. It was…distracting.”
She blinked at him. Then she looked down at her feet, encased just now in a cunning pair of blue satin slippers, ruined by cake. She could understand if he’d been enticed by her shoes, for shoes were very enticing things. But feet? What was so remarkable about feet? She looked back at him. “You are a very odd man, Nick.”
“And you were not at all aware of what you had done to me,” he continued. “It was quite cruel, really. I remember you were friendly and kind, as though I were a child or a dog. I burned for you, but you paid no notice to me as a man.”
Well, no. She had worked very hard, indeed, not to notice him as a man. Because in the rare moments she allowed herself to fully look at him or, God forbid, touch him, she always became a lustful, wicked creature. Witness her current embarrassing state of undress. All the fault of noticing him.
“Do you really think I don’t realize you are a man, Nick? I don’t suppose I just did something unspeakable to a turnip.”
He tossed his head in a howl of laughter. When his mirth subsided, he said, “This time was different. You were upset. You—” He stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. “Why were you so upset, Adelaide? It was not just your father, though he was an utter ass. When you told me he did not speak to you, I thought perhaps you had exaggerated. I see I gave him too much credit. But you doused your sister in cake. Why?”
Damnation. She had rather expected he would not care enough to ask.
What could she say that did not slander her sister and damn herself? She could not tell him what she had heard in the closet. She could not tell him of the jealousy that had raged through her veins. He would want to know why. Nick, curse him, was the kind of man who always wanted to know why.
What answer could she give him?
I want you to feel the same about me as Abingdon feels for my sister.
I want you to love me.
But that, she could never, ever say.
So she said nothing, instead twisting her fingers in the hem of his coat.
The silence turned awful.
“We promised no more secrets, but you still don’t trust me,” he said flatly.
Pain stabbed through her heart. She raised her gaze to his. “Should I?”
“Try me, Adelaide.” His hands clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “For God’s sake, just try me. Have I not agreed to every one of your demands? Have I not courted you, as we agreed? Did I not see you safely to Epsom and back? Yet you hide yourself from me.”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “This was never what either of us wanted, Nick. We are here only because we know each other’s sins. If I were not blackmailing you, would you still marry me?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
She believed him. But only because of the guilt she knew he carried. “You want to atone, but for what? I was as much to blame as you. More so, even. But I am not willing to wear that guilt as a millstone around my neck and walk into our own sea of consequences. If there is another way, why should we allow ourselves to drown?”
“Another way?” he repeated. His lips twisted in a snarl. “You mean another man. So it is that way still, is it?”
“Yes,” she said, though her heart was breaking.
“You cannot think I would allow you to marry someone else. Not after what we just did.”
“It is no different than what we did before.”
He flinched as though she had slapped him.
“I am very fond of you, Nick, and I—” She faltered, but then she remembered who was waiting for her in Epsom and summoned her courage. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. I believe you would be very unhappy with me.”
He scowled. “Let me be the judge of that. If it is my happiness at stake, it should be my decision to make.”
“But it risks my happiness, as well. And I can’t be happy with a husband who hates me.”
His expression softened. “Adelaide.” His thumb stroked away the tear that slipped down her cheek. “I could never hate you.”
Ah, but he could. And he would, when he learned the truth. Which, if they married, would surely happen.
How would she bear his hatred? “Nick—”
But he kissed her quiet. Then crooked his finger against the curtain’s edge, causing a sliver of dim light to shine into the carriage. He glanced out before letting the curtain close again. “I should like to see you inside, to know that you are safe. But I do not think it would be wise. You are wearing little but my coat. Your father would shoot me on sight.”
“He wouldn’t.” She tightened his coat around herself. “He is not so foolish. What would he do with a twice-ruined daughter and still no husband? You are right to stay here, however, for he would surely have a special license purchased before you could blink.”
“He does not need to force my hand, angel. I will call on him tomorrow to request his approval, but whether he grants it or not, I will marry you.”
She met Nick’s gaze and saw the determination in its depths.
She said nothing. Let him think he had won. It made no difference.
He cupped her chin, tilting her head back to look at him. His eyes searched hers. “Trust me, Adelaide.”
Hope was a rather insidious thing, Adelaide reflected. So difficult to kill. It insisted on rising like a weed, even where lies and broken promises had scorched the earth. Her mind knew Nick would never, could never, forgive her for hiding the truth.
But her heart— Oh, how it hoped.