Free Mesalliance by Stella Riley Page B

way round to
offering Mistress Kendrick a carte blanche – and finding it
a good deal more difficult than he’d anticipated.
    He realised, of
course, that these things probably grew easier with practice and
that he, having arrived at the age of twenty-eight with only one
recognised liaison to his credit, was somewhat lacking in this
respect. But he did not recall needing to tread quite so carefully
with Betty – whom he had set up as his mistress more as a matter of
form than anything else; and he’d certainly never had the peculiar
sensation that she was more in control of his words than he was
himself. Under Adeline’s dispassionate gaze, he knew both; and,
unnerving though this was, it also increased his ardour.
    He looked at
her now, cool and restrained, the nut-brown hair demurely arranged
and her neck rising slender and white above the dove-coloured gown.
The blood rose to his head and he said baldly, ‘I’ll give you a
house in London and a carriage of your own and as many gowns and
furbelows as you like. I’ll even take you to Paris - or Rome, if
you’d prefer it. Anything you want. All you need do is to name
it.’
    The narrow
brows rose and Adeline examined him meditatively. At length, she
said, ‘Dear me, Mr Garfield. Can it be that you are asking me to
become your wife?’
    His jaw
dropped. ‘ Wife ?’
    ‘Yes.’ She
smiled sweetly upon him. ‘What else could you possibly mean?’
    Lewis stared at
her aghast.
    ‘Well, in
truth,’ he began weakly, ‘I … er …’
    ‘You were
wondering if it is not a little too soon to ask?’ she suggested
helpfully. ‘Of course. I understand completely. Indeed, I am
honoured that you should consider me … and very, very tempted.’
    An unpleasant,
sinking feeling was taking place in the pit of Mr Garfield’s
stomach and he knew that he had better speak now – and swiftly – or
forever hold his peace.
    ‘However,’
continued Adeline smoothly, ‘I fear I must decline your extremely
flattering offer … at least until we get to know each other a
little better. And that day, I feel sure, cannot be far
distant.’
    Lewis Garfield
was not a man whose mind moved quickly but, on this occasion, he
surpassed himself. The implications of Mistress Kendrick’s words
were only too horribly clear and, since it did not now seem
possible to correct her misconception without finding himself in
very deep water indeed, he grasped the reprieve with both hands.
Far, far better to nip his infatuation in the bud than to risk
further embarrassment of this kind – or worse.
    Suddenly a man
of decision, he surged to his feet, mumbled some tangled excuses
and vanished, without more ado, into the shrubbery.
    ‘ Exit,
pursued by a bear ,’ said a reflective voice beside her. ‘What can you have said to him?’
    ‘Guess,’ said
Adeline. And then, meeting Rockliffe’s eyes, ‘Or no. On second
thoughts – don’t.’
    ‘No,’ he
agreed, resting one elegantly-shod foot on the fallen tree-trunk
where she sat and producing the inevitable snuff-box from his
pocket whilst enjoying the honey-coloured glints the sun found in
her hair. ‘One cannot but wonder, however, why it is that you don’t
appear to feel insulted.’
    ‘In general
terms, because he won’t trouble me again.’ She surveyed him with
faint, amusement. ‘You did not enjoy your luncheon.’
    ‘I dislike
indulging in a balancing act with my plate whilst removing various
species of insect from the syllabub. A sign, if you like, of my
declining years.’
    Adeline’s
expression did not waver by so much as a hairsbreadth but, behind
her grey-striped bodice came a tug of something she neither wanted
nor was prepared for. She said, ‘Tom tells me you’ve finally
persuaded my uncle to sell you The Trojan.’
    ‘Did you think
I wouldn’t?’
    ‘On the
contrary. I was sure you would.’ She paused, tilting her head
consideringly. ‘Hardly the horse for anyone’s declining years, I
would have thought.’
    His