Carousel of Hearts (25 page)

She prayed that eventually Simon would find someone else who would make him happy, even if he could never love another woman as he loved Antonia.

Shuddering, Judith broke her mind from the painful circle of thoughts by forcing herself to concentrate on what needed to be done. First, she ordered a carriage for five o’clock in the morning. She received a surprised look but no questions; her orders were accepted as readily as Antonia’s.

Then she packed. The abigail whom she and Antonia shared had gone on the overnight trip, but no matter. For this journey, Judith herself must make the decisions of what to keep and what to leave behind. Amazing how many possessions she had accumulated in two years of security. Choices were hard but not impossible. She would hire a post chaise in Macclesfield to take her to Liverpool, so a reasonable amount of baggage could be carried.

She worked swiftly. Most of her books must go, but her more elaborate gowns were not likely to be needed in the colonies. Judith reminded herself to think of her destination as the United States, or the natives might take it amiss.

Because she had been contemplating leaving for several months, she had a substantial amount of money at hand. The rest of her account could be transferred when she had decided where she would settle. Antonia had paid her companion very generously over the years. Judith had saved a large proportion of her salary, enough so that she could go for a long time without another situation.

The most difficult part was writing her farewells. Judith had already said more than enough to Adam. She considered leaving a note for Simon, but what could she say? That she felt privileged to have known him, that the days of their conspiracy had been the happiest of her life, and that she would love him forever?

Unthinkable. Worse than unthinkable, pathetic.

In the end, she wrote only to Antonia, explaining that she had broken her betrothal to Adam and was leaving immediately to prevent awkwardness. It was time to pursue her longtime ambition to visit the New World. She would write eventually. In the meantime, Judith gave her sincerest thanks for everything Antonia had done for her, and wished her all joy in her marriage.

She did not specify which man Antonia would be marrying, since that issue was still in doubt. 

* * * *

Adam sat alone in the music room long after Judith had left him, thinking of what she had said. Eventually he moved to the library, where a glass of brandy could be found to aid his deliberations.

Over the last fortnight Adam had been too absorbed in his own unhappy thoughts to pay much attention to what the others were doing. In particular, he had avoided watching Antonia and Simon together. But Judith was right. They had all been walking on eggs.

Adam could not remember having a single significant conversation with anyone since he had regained his memory. Not with Antonia, his cousin. Not with Simon, his friend. Not even with Judith, his betrothed. They had been avoiding interaction like an assembly of polite ghosts.

Judith’s words about his cowardice were painful, but he could not deny their harsh reality. It was indeed his own fears that had stopped him from ever declaring himself to Antonia. To do so would have been impossible before he left England, and when he returned, he had lacked the courage.

At first, he had rationalized that it was too soon, that they needed time to become reacquainted. Then, with appalling suddenness, it had been too late.

Yet, if Judith was to be believed, for a few short weeks he had been different, freed of the shackles of the past. Vaguely he recalled that Antonia had told him of his illegitimacy in her attempts to reacquaint him with his history. But the simple knowledge of bastardy was not the same as recollection of the thousand small slights that he had suffered because of his birth, nor of that one enormous, life-changing rebuff.

It was easy to believe that he had behaved differently without the bar sinister graven on his soul. And it was undeniable that since recovering his memory he had slipped back into the old hesitant patterns when he was around Antonia, acting the insecure bastard rather than the successful man of affairs he’d become.

With fierce deliberation Adam invoked the images of Antonia that had been haunting him since he had regained his memory. Discarding the recurring dreams that he had experienced over the years, he examined what was left in an attempt to decide what was a true memory.

Could he and Antonia really have picnicked at the Aerie and discovered a passion as intense as what he had dreamed of? In the summerhouse, had she sworn that she loved him without limits or qualifications and that she wanted—most desperately—to marry him?

He could not be certain. But if those events were real, not figments of his imagination or battered brain, then perhaps Antonia did love him as more than a brother. Possibly even more than she loved Simon. If by some miracle she did, he owed it to both of them to act rather than to let her drift into marriage with the wrong man. But there were a hundred ways of losing, and the consequences of failure could be devastating.

Even if Antonia loved him, her own sense of honor might prevent her from breaking her betrothal to Simon a second time. The best Adam could hope for was winning Antonia at the price of betraying his best friend.

At worst, he would sacrifice Antonia’s regard forever. He’d no longer have the closeness of friend and brother, and he would lose Simon’s friendship as well. He could not believe that he and Simon would end up facing each other over cold steel at dawn, but that was one possible result.

Adam was not a gambler by nature. He’d forced himself to become one in the lonely years in Asia, when only continual risk-taking offered any hope of winning what he wanted. It hadn’t been hard to risk his life and growing fortune when the possibility of winning Antonia was the prize.

He was only a coward when Antonia herself was concerned because he cared more for her than for life and fortune. Yet now he must risk everything on one colossal gamble. He would have only one chance to plead his case, and God help him if he did it badly.

For the rest of the night Adam sat alone thinking, about Judith, about himself. And most of all, about Antonia.

* * * *

Antonia entered her sanctuary with a sigh of pleasure. She’d always found the scents and colors of the stillroom very soothing, which was why she had retreated here shortly after her return to Thornleigh. Visits to Lady Forrester were always something of a strain, especially to introduce a future husband.

Not that there had been any major problems. Aunt Lettie was delighted that her wayward niece was finally marrying, and had been more than a little charmed by Lord Launceston. In fact, Antonia would not hesitate to say that the old beldame had flirted with him.

Fortunately Simon was not of a womanizing disposition. It was bad enough that every female in sight melted at his entrance, but it would be far worse if he encouraged them.

But Antonia had been uncomfortable in the role of blossoming bride-to-be. It seemed wrong to accept good wishes when she was secretly pining for Adam.

At least she and Simon were getting along well. Ever since they’d renewed their betrothal, there had been no harsh words or rows.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much relaxation or casual companionship, either. But surely matters should improve in time.

The stillroom was the most remote corner of the kitchen and pantry area.  In mid-afternoon on a quiet summer day, it was delightfully private. When Antonia was a child, she had thought of the stillroom as an enchanted Oriental cavern of rich colors, scents, and tastes. This was the oldest part of the house, with a flagstone floor, a beamed ceiling, and small paned windows high on the walls.

The chamber was lined with cupboards and open shelves of pickles, brandied fruits, homemade cordials, and a multitude of other preserved foodstuffs. A scrubbed deal worktable stood in the center of the room, and one corner sheltered a drying rack for fruit. Bunches of herbs hung from the rafters, and a locked chest contained small jars of expensive spices.

Preserving the products of the land was satisfying in a very elemental way. Antonia and her housekeeper spent many happy hours discussing recipes, tasting, and planning what to try in the future. It was the only aspect of housekeeping that really interested Antonia.

Checking supplies to see if anything needed ordering gave her an excuse to linger. She paused to lift a bottle of raspberry vinegar. If she recalled correctly, good for coughs and sore throats as well as cooking.

Antonia was admiring the rich burgundy color of the vinegar when she heard the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps. Recognizing them, she tensed.

She forced herself to relax. Though she had managed to avoid anything resembling a tête-à-tête with Adam, she could hardly spend the rest of her life doing so.

As he entered, Antonia looked up with a bright smile. “Come to steal some crystallized peaches, Adam?” As children, they had enjoyed periodic raids on the treasures stored here. Candied fruit had been a prime favorite.

“Not today.” Adam closed the door behind him. “This time I’m looking for you, and Mrs. Heaver thought she saw you sneaking in this direction.”

Adam seemed subtly different today. Antonia was uneasily aware of his forceful masculinity. “How can I be sneaking when I am in my own house?” she asked with mock indignation, hoping to keep the conversation frivolous.

“It was sneaking since you were trying to avoid being seen,” Adam explained. “Speaking of trying, how was Lady Forrester?”

“As trying as usual,” Antonia said ruefully.

Adam’s coat emphasized the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the afternoon sun found gold highlights in his light-brown hair. Wishing that she could feel as casual as her cousin appeared, Antonia shifted her feet and manufactured a smile. “She approved of Simon, but wanted to know when you would call on her. Said that you are most remiss.”

“Really? It never occurred to me that Lady Forrester expected a call. I’ve always thought she disapproved of my existence. But I suppose that the best thing about her is that she disapproves of everyone universally. In her way, she’s a perfect democrat.” Adam’s gray-green eyes were fixed on Antonia with disturbing intensity.  “Do you know where Simon is?”

Antonia was relieved by the question. If Adam was just looking for Simon, he would leave soon. “Checking progress at his future observatory. He hopes to start assembling the telescope today or tomorrow.”

“Good. That should keep him occupied for a time. I need to talk to you, and I don’t want any interruptions.” Adam crossed the stillroom with light deliberate steps, like a lion prowling the plains in search of supper. “But before I talk, there is something that I must do to refresh my memory.”

Adam deftly removed the bottle of raspberry vinegar from Antonia’s nerveless fingers and set it on a shelf, then drew her into his arms. Startled and indignant, she turned her face up, only to have her confused protest checked by a kiss.

Antonia gasped with shock. There was nothing casual or cousinly about Adam’s embrace. It was deep and sexual and demanding. While her mind reeled at her cousin’s outrageous behavior, her body responded with shattering urgency to his knowing mouth and hands.

Ever since Adam had recovered his memory, she had kept as far away from him as possible, trying without success to forget the intimacy and passion that had been between them. Now every fiber of her being pulsed with desire and the erotic awareness of being surrounded by great strength barely restrained.

Even as her better judgment screamed that this was wrong and dangerous, Antonia kissed Adam back. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed against him, craving his touch and the hard warmth of his body. She wanted to melt onto the cool stone floor and pull him down with her. She yearned to complete what had been tantalizingly unfinished during that brief idyll when they had thought that a lifetime of fulfillment lay ahead of them.

Dimly she recognized that very soon she would pass the point of no return. It took every fraying shred of Antonia’s self-control to break away.

Her breasts heaving with agitation and desire, she retreated until her back was flattened against the vinegar cupboard. “Adam, have you run mad?” she asked weakly, too shaken even for righteous outrage.

“No. I just needed to confirm my memory of what happened during the time I had amnesia.” Though Adam’s breathing was ragged, he made no attempt to pursue or persuade her, for which Antonia was profoundly grateful.

She stared. “Just what were you trying to determine?”

“Whether you might be in love with me.” Adam leaned back casually against the deal table as if preparing for a lengthy discussion. “Judith seemed to think so, but I needed to find out for myself.”

“You are
mad
,” Antonia said with conviction. “Why would Judith say something like that?”

He smiled humorlessly. “It was one of her principal reasons for ending our betrothal.”

“Judith ended your engagement?” Antonia’s senses were still disordered from the impact of Adam’s closeness, and it took a moment to absorb the sense of his statement. “Adam, I’m so sorry. But really”—she gave a shaky laugh—”I don’t think Simon would appreciate your using his future wife for solace.”

Adam’s thick brows arched. “That was hardly my intention. I was just confirming my facts before asking you to marry me.”

“If you aren’t mad, you’re drunk,” Antonia said, perilously close to tears. “Or else you are teasing me in a way I do not find amusing.”

To her horror, her voice cracked. He wanted to marry her. He actually wanted to marry her! Why did he have to ask her now, when it was too late?

“I have never been more serious in my life.” Adam’s grave voice underlined his words. “Tony, look at me.”

Almost against her will, she raised her eyes to meet his.

Regarding her with mesmerizing intensity, he said quietly, “I love you. I have loved you since I was seven years old, and that fact has shaped my entire life. For too long I have been silent, but I am speaking now. I pray it isn’t too late.”