‘You sound as though you almost admire him?’
‘Yes, in a way, I suppose I do. He was a worthy opponent. At one time the most brilliant general that ever lived, barring Wellington himself—though at the end he made mistakes he would not have made when he was younger. Like many others before him he grew too big for his boots. Power went to his head. Had he known when to stop, he might still have been emperor.’
‘Yes, perhaps. I had heard some speak of him in romantic terms, but thought them foolish girls—but if you admire him, the case is proven.’
Adam chuckled for such forthright speech was not often met with in a young lady and he found her views refreshing. Glancing at her sideways, he wondered what other pearls of wisdom might drop from those sweet lips given the chance.
Jenny glanced round at her maid. ‘Are you comfortable, Meg?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. Much more comfortable now.’
‘My uncle’s coach rattled us almost to death,’ she said and laughed. ‘Casting a wheel was better fortune than we knew.’
The sound of her laughter warmed Adam. He was suddenly aware of her sitting close to him, her femininity, and her subtle perfume that he thought was her own rather than from a bottle. She was quite lovely—though no cold beauty. He thought of some of the proud London ladies he’d seen dressed in their rich gowns. In her simple travelling gown this young woman cast them all into shade. He felt something stir in his loins—a feeling he did not often associate with innocent young ladies.
Adam’s taste was normally for older women, opera singers or dancers, or the occasional widow who needed a friend’s support to keep the wolf from the door after the death of her loved one. Over the years he’d taken his lovers lightly: a Spanish tavern wench, a French actress, several English ladies who had been married, some more than once. To feel the heat of desire curl through him because of a proper young lady sitting beside him was a new experience. Though it made him smile inwardly, he ruthlessly crushed all thought of what her lips might taste of or how the softness of her skin might feel pressed against his.
Miss Jenny Hastings was out of bounds. She had no fortune and neither did he so marriage was not a viable proposition had either of them had the inclination, which it was much too soon even to consider—and anything else was out of the question, even if this feeling happened to be more than fleeting lust. He could offer her friendship and he would—but his honour forbade him to take advantage of her vulnerability. No, he must conquer the sudden and ridiculous desire to stop the carriage and catch her up in his arms. It was quite ridiculous. They were complete strangers and knew nothing of one another. He really did not know what had got into him! And yet when he’d caught her eye in that London ballroom he’d felt drawn to her somehow.
* * *
‘Are we very far now?’ she asked after he had lapsed into silence for some twenty minutes or more.
‘Are you hungry or tired?’ he asked and glanced at his watch. ‘I suppose we might have stopped, but I thought it unwise to eat at an inn. We should be at Ravenscar Court in a few minutes.’
‘Oh, good,’ Jenny said. ‘My aunt’s cook put up a hamper for us, but in the distress of the accident it went rolling into the ditch and was lost.’
‘And you are hungry.’ He heard a sound that could only be her stomach growling and became aware of his own hunger—not the sexual hunger he’d felt earlier, but a natural desire for food. ‘I promise you it will not be long. My cousins will provide us with refreshments as soon as we arrive.’’
* * *
Adam pulled his chaise to a halt at the front of a large, imposing country residence some fifteen minutes later. His tiger jumped down and went to hold the horses’ heads, while he helped first Miss Hastings and then her maid to alight.
‘Well, here we are,’ he said. ‘I am expected so someone should be here at any—’
The sound of shots being fired startled him. He looked about him in search of their source, thinking that they must have come from somewhere at the rear. It was even as he was deciding what to do for the best that a man came from the front porch and stumbled towards him. Adam saw the blood and gave a cry of distress and shock, rushing towards his cousin. He was in time to catch Mark before he collapsed. Holding him in his arms, he knelt on the gravel, looking down at the face of the man he had always believed the most favoured of the gods and practically invincible.
‘Mark, dear fellow,’ he said, for he saw that the wound was fatal and his cousin had but a short time to live. ‘What happened—who did this to you?’
‘Father...Paul...tell Father to watch out for him...’
The words were so faint that Adam scarcely heard them. His head was in a whirl, his mind suspended in disbelief. How could this be happening? Mark had sailed through all the campaigns on the Peninsula and in France. How could he be lying in Adam’s arms dying of a shotgun wound now when he was at his own home in peaceful Huntingdonshire?
‘What is happening?’ Paul’s voice cried. He came running from the side of the house, a shotgun broken for safety and lying over his arm. As he approached, he dropped the gun and flung himself down by his brother’s side. ‘No—oh God, no,’ he cried and tears started to his eyes. ‘Did you see what happened? Who could have done this? I heard shots almost at the same moment as I shot a rat in the walled garden. Did anyone come this way?’
‘No one but Mark,’ Adam said. He stood up as servants started to converge on them from all sides. ‘Some of you make a thorough search of the grounds. One of you must go for the doctor. I think it is hopeless, but the attempt must be made. If you see a stranger or intruder, apprehend them—I want justice for my cousin.’
Pandemonium broke loose. Men were shouting at each other, feet flying as they divided into groups to search for the murderer. Adam lifted Mark off the ground, carrying him into the house. Then, remembering his passengers, he turned to look at them. Both young women looked stunned.
‘As you see, my cousin has been shot,’ Adam said. ‘Forgive me. I had not expected to bring you to such a reception.’
‘You must not think of us,’ Jenny said and dabbed at her cheeks with a lace kerchief.
‘Mrs Mountfitchet,’ Adam addressed a woman dressed all in black, who hovered nearby. ‘These young ladies were in distress for their carriage has broken down—send word to Lady Dawlish, for they are meant to be her guests, and please feed them. They are hungry.’
‘Do not worry for them, sir,’ the housekeeper said. ‘Come along, my dears. I’ll find you a comfortable parlour to sit in and you shall have some bread and butter, cold meats and pickles—and a pot of tea.’
‘Thank you...so kind...’ Jenny said, then, in a louder voice. ‘Please, I would know how your cousin goes on, sir.’
Adam made no answer for he was hurrying away and up the stairs, the younger man hard on his heels.
‘I can’t believe it,’ the housekeeper said. ‘That such a thing should happen to the young master here in his own home. It’s scandalous, that’s what it is, and no mistake.’
‘It was such a shock,’ Jenny said and dabbed at her eyes again. ‘I am so very sorry. I wish we were not here to cause
