‘I remember hoping she’d fall out of the tree.’
‘What tree?’ Nicholas asked, bemused.
‘The lecture was delivered from a branch of the Hungry Tree, so named for its tendency to capture and demolish her siblings’ balls and kites. Their cottage is on Rowena’s family land and Miss Drake and her siblings were always underfoot somewhere.’
‘Why the devil was she was up in the tree?’
‘Rescuing a ball, I think. I offered to help and got that lecture for my pains. And she said I was too fat.’
Nicholas leaned back, clearly enjoying himself.
‘Too fat? You?’
‘Well, too big to help on any but the lowest branches. I was still in my chivalrous phase, but it was wasted on her. I forgot to mention she used to go around in breeches, of all things. It was the strangest household. Her father was always upstairs in his study, writing abysmal poetry, and I think I saw him less than half a dozen times the whole time we lived in Mowbray. Her siblings were always either up to some mischief or following Alyssa about like a tribe of Indians. They were a law unto themselves.’
Nicholas frowned.
‘She didn’t look wild.’
‘Not wild, precisely. Despite the breeches and the tree-climbing she was trying very hard to turn her ramshackle tribe into a proper little brigade. She used to tutor them en masse out in the garden so they wouldn’t bother their father. She roped me into teaching them some Greek plays. It was very odd. The youngest one was seven, but they all sat there on the grass and drank in Antigone and Oedipus.’
‘Oh, no, Adam, not Oedipus!’
‘That’s what I thought, but she insisted. She said it was important they know the classics. I toned it down as much as I could. They were a good audience—the only ones who showed any interest in what I was studying. My parents certainly never did. The only reason they consented to my going up to Oxford instead of starting work with old Delacort’s estate agent right away was because I received a fellowship. That way I would be up there at Trinity earning old Delacort’s goodwill by making sure Ivor did enough not to get himself sent down. Anything to insinuate us further into the Delacort social fold. My mother always made it clear that the chief redeeming feature of becoming plain Mrs Alistair was the Delacort connection. She was the reason we came to live in Mowbray on old Delacort’s charity in the first place. She always hoped Timothy and Ivor would take at least one of my sisters off her hands, preferably both. Until I ruined everything, that is.’
‘Yes, your mother is a piece of work, all right. Now that I think about it, you haven’t said a word about your family since we returned to England. She should be delighted now that you’ve come into the title and estates, no?’
Adam picked up the bust of Heraclites from his desk and walked over to place him on the mantelpiece. He stood for a moment considering the morose face and his own reflection beyond it, then turned his back on both.
‘“Delighted” is a word I wouldn’t associate with my mother. Now that my sisters are eligibly married the benefit of my newly elevated status is minimal, certainly when balanced against my tarnished reputation. I think now that my father is dead she prefers to remain safely in Northumberland to bask in the borrowed glory of my sisters’ husbands. And thank goodness for that. I am very comfortable with the current arrangement where any communication between us is through my sisters.’
Nicholas shook his head.
‘I can see where you got your stubborn streak, man.’
Adam shrugged.
‘I spent two-thirds of my life doing just about everything she wanted and for one act of folly she demands that the only way to make amends is to erase myself from our family’s life and disappear. She didn’t even have the decency to write to me when Father died. She left that task to Sybil and Cammie. But that knife cuts both ways. I promised myself that was the last time I would do what was proper. I didn’t just erase myself from my family’s life. I erased who I was. So now I can do whatever I want and be accountable to no one.’
‘Well, you can certainly do almost anything you want. But I would argue against your being accountable to no one. You took pretty good care of me when I was sick in Punjab, for example.’
Adam smiled, relaxing.
‘I would have done the same for my horse. Besides, I was responsible for you, in a way. I never understood why you decided to come along. You should have stayed at Oxford, then gone home to Berkshire and married one of those pretty little ladies you were always rhapsodising about.’
‘There you have it in a nutshell. Unlike you, I always wanted to live an adventurous life and being a third son meant there wasn’t much for me to do back in Berkshire, lovely ladies or not. I knew an opportunity when I saw it. That’s not to say there weren’t days I would have much rather stayed safe at home and I won’t be going back to that particular village in Punjab in this lifetime, but all told, joining you was the best decision I’ve made. So, get this dilapidated old mausoleum into shape and let’s return to London, where we can continue to reap the fruits of our labour. As long as you don’t fall back in love with the mercenary Rowena now that we are in the neighbourhood. Is she very beautiful?’
Adam frowned in concentration.
‘I think so.’
‘You think so?’
‘It was a long time ago. I thought so at the time, but I can’t quite remember what she looked like.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Adam. This is the woman who broke your heart and you can’t quite remember what she looks like?’
‘I’m certain she had blue eyes. Everyone kept going on about cornflower orbs.’
‘Blast you, Adam, you’re about as romantic as a wet boot. How do you have such luck with women?’
Adam grinned.
‘Luck has nothing to do with it. But I will certainly continue to leave the romance to you, you old fraud.’
‘Well, I admit to being curious about the woman who was your Helen of Troy and catapulted you into battle, so to speak. She must be ten years married now, which is all for the best. Bored matrons are the easiest of prey. Imagine, Adam—if she had not been such a devious fortune hunter, you might even now be the proud owner of a brood of cornflower-eyed brats.’
‘Thank the heavens she was, then.’ Adam stretched lazily. ‘As much as I resented it at the time, Miss Drake was right—marrying Rowena would have been one version of hell. And getting my pride handed to me so brutally has been very useful. Life has been much more enjoyable since. Sometimes it amazes me to remember just how serious I used to be. And stupid. I honestly thought Rowena was the embodiment of all that was good and right in the world. Unbelievable. As you said yourself, it was the best thing that happened to me.’
‘Probably,’ Nicholas conceded. He glanced sideways at Adam. ‘Still, it is strange that you can’t even remember what this beauty looks like. Seems to me you remember this Miss Drake quite well.’
‘The Drake household was singularly unforgettable. It
