as far as he knew they’d never met before today. ‘I knew Lucy at school. My father is dead and they have kindly offered me a home.’
Her slight embarrassment and the plainness of her gown and pelisse made Adam think that she was reduced to accepting kindness from her friends. It would seem that her father’s demise had left her in difficult circumstances and she was to be some kind of a companion, though treated as a friend rather than a paid servant. It was a situation that many young ladies of good birth found themselves in when a death in the family left them with too little fortune to manage for themselves.
She was wearing a pretty silver-and-enamelled brooch pinned to her pelisse. Of little value, it was exactly the kind of ornament a girl in her position would prize. He wondered that she had told him so much of her situation for she need not, and yet perhaps she felt her come down keenly and did not wish him to think her a privileged guest. He smiled at her kindly, because now he understood the expression she’d worn that evening in London. She had not been disapproving of him in particular, but was at odds with the world itself for leaving her in her present circumstances.
Adam could sympathise, for his own circumstances were not too far different. Miss Hastings would not have the avenue of marriage to a rich heiress open to her. Being a man, and heir to a title, he had a distinct advantage, as his problems might have been solved had he a little less pride. For a young woman like this there were few options open to her other than to seek paid employment or live as a dependent in the home of a friend—unless she was fortunate enough to be asked for in marriage. If she were prepared to accept an older man or a widower with a family, she might be fortunate enough to find a comfortable match—although was there any comfort to be had in a loveless marriage?
Having settled Miss Hastings in the carriage, he helped the young maid to sit behind and took up the reins from his tiger. By driving with great care, he managed to pass the stricken coach and mount the grass verge, negotiating a tricky passage with ease.
‘You drive very well,’ Miss Hastings observed and Adam smiled. He was considered a notable whip, but had no intention of puffing off his consequence. ‘Papa was a whip—indeed, I shall never understand how he came to overset his chaise at such speed that he was thrown to the ground and killed.’
‘Accidents will happen even to the best of us,’ Adam said in a sympathetic tone. ‘I am sorry for your loss, Miss Hastings.’
‘It was almost a year ago now, which is why I’ve left off my blacks. My aunt was anxious for me to wear colours again—but I shall continue to wear grey and lilac for a little longer.’
‘Your gown today is a very pretty green, however.’
‘A present from my aunt. I felt obliged to wear it since she had gone to so much trouble to have it made up for me.’
‘Ah, I see...’ Adam concentrated on his driving. ‘It will be late afternoon by the time we arrive at Ravenscar. If we dine there, I can send word to Lady Dawlish. She may have you fetched—or I can drive you there after we’ve eaten. To arrive after dark without explanation might cause some adverse comment...’
‘You think Lady Dawlish might consider it improper in me to allow you to take us up?’
‘I would not wish to have anyone form the wrong conclusion.’
‘But surely...I have my maid...’
‘Yes, but I...well, I have been known to support a pretty...mistress in the past and I would not wish anyone to receive the wrong impression.’
‘Oh...’ A sideways glance told him that her cheeks flamed. ‘I had not thought...only how kind it was...’ She floundered and Adam took pity on her.
‘You are quite safe with me. I do not seduce innocent young ladies, even if I have the reputation of being a rake—which is not truly deserved, though I say it myself.’
‘You are very thoughtful for my sake.’
‘A young woman in your delicate position cannot be too careful.’
‘In my...’ She swallowed hard, a startled look in her eyes. She could not have realised how revealing her words had been and he was sorry to have embarrassed her. ‘Yes, I see. You fear that it might cause Lady Dawlish to rescind her kind offer?’
‘Great ladies can sometimes be a little severe in matters of propriety,’ Adam said. ‘Safer to reach my cousin’s house and then send word that we took you in when your coach met with an accident.’
‘Yes...thank you. You are very considerate.’ Adam risked another glance at her. Her cheeks were rather pink and she seemed in some sort of difficulty. He was not sure whether her foremost emotion was embarrassment or...was that a gasp of despair or could it possibly be laughter?
‘You may think me impertinent, perhaps? Yet I should not wish you to lose your home because of a misunderstanding.’
‘No, certainly not, that would be unfortunate.’ She had herself in hand now and smiled at him. ‘I assure you I do not find you in the least impertinent, sir. Indeed, I am grateful for your care of my reputation.’
Adam made no immediate reply. She was obviously much affected by her change in situation. He could only suppose that she had been brought up to expect the best from life and her new circumstances were distressing her.
‘I should never wish to be the cause of harm to a young lady, especially when you find yourself in difficulties,’ he assured her and heard a little gasp from the maidservant. ‘Now tell me, are you looking forward to Lucy’s wedding?’
‘Yes, very much indeed,’ the reply came easily now. ‘The summer holds many treats ahead, I think, for Lady Dawlish is a generous hostess and will not permit herself to show me any lessening of regard because of my reduced circumstances.’
She had brought herself to speak of it and Adam was respectfully silent. He knew how much it must have cost her to speak of such things and was determined to be as generous and kind as he could.
* * *
For the next half an hour he regaled her with stories of his and his cousins’ exploits on the field of battle, describing the fierce fighting and their feelings of despair when at first forced to retreat. Also, the true comradeship and care for one another their experiences had forged.
‘When Old Hookey gave the orders to advance I was never more delighted in my life. What might have been a rout ended in a brilliant victory—and it was due to his strategy and the bravery of men who would cheerfully have died for him.’
‘I fear too many died,’ Jenny said. ‘I recall my uncle speaking of it—but he did not say much for he knew any talk of such things would distress me.’
‘Yes, indeed, it is not the subject for a lady’s parlour,’ Adam admitted. ‘I believe Wellington is now in Vienna. I fear he will find making the peace more difficult than he found the campaign. It is always so, for politics is a dirty business and men who would not know how to command a fly have a deal too much to say about how things shall be settled.’
‘My uncle was of the opinion that Napoleon should be tried and executed, but I dare say that will not happen.’
‘I think too many voices would be raised against it. He must certainly be contained for we cannot allow him to wreak further havoc in Europe—but he is a fine general
