Chapter 6
As the last notes of the music reverberated into silence, Adam smiled. Not a grin. It wasn’t a sally, but a true smile of pure happiness. He couldn’t help himself. It had been the most remarkable feeling to have her in his arms and see her transform from a defiant and angry young woman to one who realized that, perhaps, her prison wasn’t quite as small as she’d imagined.
If he could give her anything, it would be the knowledge that she was no prisoner at all and she never had to be again.
Adam gazed down at her beautiful face as they stood, taking in the last moment of their dance. He waited for her to smile in turn.
She did not.
Instead, she gazed up at him, her eyes wide, filled with some unknown emotion. Whatever it was, he felt as if he were falling into it.
She gave a very shallow curtsy then lifted her chin. “Right.” A pert nod followed the short, almost emotionless word. “Wager won.”
With that, she turned away from him and began to make her way across the floor. Without him.
He gaped, alone on the dance floor. It was the last thing he’d expected.
Head held high, her dark curls teasing her neck, she slowly walked, her gait slightly hitching through the crowd.
Sadly and not to his surprise, but disgust nonetheless, half the room watched her depart as though she were an animal in the Tower. Someone to be studied and measured.
What a fool he was. To think that a dance might help her. He’d gotten her to come inside from the garden. To abandon her solitude. To dance. But the problem was far deeper than just her own view.
Society believed her own self-condemnation. . . That she was a curiosity and somehow broken.
He flexed his fists and arched a brow as if he could sneer at the entire room. As if nothing had just transpired, he strode from the floor and took up his stance by the greenery, avoiding the looks of the wary mamas who had all hoped he would ask their daughters to dance.
In this moment, he wanted to loathe them all for hurting Lady Beatrix.
In his experience, things that had been broken were more beautiful and made stronger by the experience. Even so, he wished she didn’t have to suffer.
For though she had every comfort a woman could want, he’d seen it. He doubted she’d wished him to. But it was there, deep in her eyes, deep in her beautiful soul. That pain that only resonated in those that had been shaken to their very core.
He’d felt it himself. In very different circumstances. Even now, he could feel the fingers of the past lacing out, determined to drag him backward. But he’d learned how to ignore that old feeling. To let it pass.
And that, he knew, was why he longed to help her. He had to assure her that she, too, could turn the darkness away whenever it came back, taunting at her door.
Was it a foolish desire?
Should he even contemplate it?
“How did you convince her to dance?” Lockhart drawled beside him.
It was tempting to ignore the arrogant lord who suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere. “My charm.”
“Well,” Lockhart said as he cocked his head to the side, his dark hair falling like a shadow against his hard jaw. “It must be fairly defective. She left you the first chance she could get.”
Adam sighed. It was the truth. “So she did.”
Lockhart turned ever so slightly, handling his crystal wine glass as if what he was about to say was as trivial a comment as a mention of the varying degrees of rain in England. “Stay away from her.”
Narrowing his eyes, Adam said with little emotion, “Sod off.”
“No.” Lockhart’s jaw tightened, his anger palpable but in control. “I appreciate that, somehow, you persuaded her to come to the room, but did you see how they looked at her? They thrive off the gossip she’s given them now.”
Though he knew the truth of it, he protested rather hollowly. “Surely their lives are not that dull?”
Lockhart’s lip curled.
Adam nodded. He hated to admit the lord was right.
Then, at last, he said abruptly, “Don’t you think she could use a friend?”
“You?” Lockhart scoffed, raising his glass of wine. “She doesn’t need friends. She has her family.”
“A person can always use a friend,” Adam replied softly. It was a sentiment he meant with all his heart.
Lockhart smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Not you.”
Adam knew that smile. He knew the sort of danger hidden inside of Lockhart. The half-madness of a soul ripped apart by war. But it was not a smile that could dissuade him. After all, he had seen the ravages of mankind and not blinked.
So, instead of retreating, he quipped merrily, “You just envy me my winning personality and sense of optimism.”
Lockhart snorted. “You’ve the personality of a peasant and your optimism appalls me.”
Adam bowed, knowing the best way to irritate the hell out of the man was to make light of every damned thing he said. “Thank you.”
Lockhart’s chest expanded in a long breath before he replied, “For some reason, my family finds yours tolerable.”
He looked pointedly at the young lord. “They also, somehow, tolerate you.”
“I’m family,” Lockhart stated.
“So am I.”
Lockhart laughed. “No, you’re not.”
Adam angled his body towards Lockhart and looked down. He was not a great deal taller but, at this moment, he was not above using the slight difference as he glared down. “In the eyes of God, pup, I am. Even the law.”
Lockhart scowled so vehemently his eyes flashed. “Go to the devil.”
“I’d rather go find Lady Beatrix,” Adam sallied. He would not use Beatrix as a pawn in Lockhart’s dislike of him, but he did feel every wish to go find her and ease her discomfort.
“She doesn’t need someone like you causing her distress,” Lockhart gritted. “She’s already had a terrible year.”
“I’m aware of it.”
“Then leave her be,” Lockhart snapped as he strode off.
Except he wouldn’t leave her be. For the very simple fact that he truly believed that Lady Beatrix did, indeed, need a friend. And not a family member. He could tell Lockhart truly cared about her. Her whole family did. But, she needed someone who cared about her who was not blood.
Sometimes, someone just needed that extra bit of confirmation that they were still worthwhile. That their existence was needed and meant to be. Being left behind was no easy thing. Somehow, he longed to show her that she could come out of the darkness. And he was going to prove that before he headed back out to sea. It would be the last thing he did in London and he was going to enjoy every damned minute. And she would, as well.