The Chaperon Bride. Nicola Cornick
evening, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam Ashwick’s voice came from behind her, smooth and betraying a hint of amusement. Annis jumped and spun around in her chair. So he had been intending to seek her out. The thought made her go quite hot all over.
‘Lord Ashwick. How do you do?’ She forced a polite smile. ‘I do apologise. I was not…I did not…I was not addressing you.’
‘I guessed as much.’ There was a glimmer of a smile in Adam Ashwick’s eyes. He gestured to the chair beside her. ‘May I?’
‘Oh, of course!’
Annis had assumed that he would not be staying and now felt surprise and another emotion she could not quite place. She did not look to be distinguished by Adam Ashwick’s attention and to be so set her a little on edge. It was something to do with the speculative interest she saw in his eyes, an interest he made no effort to hide. When they had met at the inn she had felt a curious tug of affinity with him and it was the last thing that she had expected or wanted. She was accustomed to living without male companionship and after an unhappy early marriage had no intention of changing that state. Yet it was disconcerting that, for all her seven-and-twenty years and her relative experience, there was a man who could disturb her equilibrium.
‘I hope that you are enjoying your return to Harrogate, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam said lazily. ‘I understand that it is several years since you were here?’
‘Indeed it is, my lord.’ Annis smiled. ‘I shall always think of this as my home even though I have spent so much time away. It is pleasant to be back here. Do you find it so?’
Adam smiled back. ‘I find Harrogate enjoyable enough for a short space of time.’
Although they were talking quite conventionally, Annis was acutely aware that Adam was watching her intently. It was as though he was making the first moves in a game—a game he showed all the signs of pursuing. Annis caught her breath at the thought.
She raised her brows coolly, determined that his appraisal should not discomfort her. ‘You do not appreciate the Yorkshire countryside, my lord?’
‘Oh, the countryside is extremely beautiful. It is the society of a small town that I find somewhat restrictive. The same company, the same balls and parties night after night…’
‘Rather like London during the Season, in fact,’ Annis said, with just a hint of asperity in her tone.
Adam laughed aloud. ‘You put me neatly in my place, ma’am! Yes, I suppose the Season in London does bear a striking resemblance to the Season anywhere else, be it Brighton or Harrogate. It is simply on a grander scale—and I have my own friends and entertainments.’
‘So I hear!’ Annis said sweetly. She saw that he was not offended by her directness; on the contrary, the laughter lines deepened about his eyes and there was amusement in their grey depths. She imagined that it would be very difficult to discommode Adam Ashwick. He had far too much experience.
Annis shifted slightly in her seat, wishing that she did not feel quite so hot. It was a humid night and, with the candles, the heat was almost overpowering. Then there was her purple turban, which was making her head itch and ache. First the black bombazine and now the dowager purple, Annis thought ruefully. It was a very long time since she had wanted a man to see her in anything other than her drab chaperon’s clothes. Now though, Adam Ashwick’s cool grey gaze was fixed appraisingly on her face and Annis was vain enough to wish that she were appearing to slightly better advantage. It was a novel experience for her to want a man to admire her and it was contrary to every sensible precept that governed her actions.
‘You are often in London, are you not, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘How comes it that we have never met there before?’
Annis gave him a very straight look. ‘It is hardly surprising that we have not met, my lord. I believe that you do not attend débutante balls and I never attend events of any other sort.’
‘Then that is one advantage that a small town confers,’ Adam observed. ‘Here we may all meet and mingle together. A decided benefit, Lady Wycherley, for otherwise I might never have met you.’
Annis laughed, refusing to be flattered. ‘You are very apt with your compliments, my lord.’
The smile deepened in Adam’s eyes. ‘Do you imply that I am not sincere? I assure you that you are quite mistaken.’
Annis flicked him a look. His whole attention was focussed on her in a manner that was decidedly disconcerting. She looked away.
‘Oh, men offer compliments when it suits their purpose! I could not have worked as a chaperon for so many years without realising that fact, my lord.’
Adam grimaced. ‘You are a cynic, ma’am, as no doubt a chaperon should be. I expect it helps you sort the genuine suitors from the rakes when you are trying to make a match for your charges.’ He leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a challenging look. ‘Let us test your assertion. What is my purpose tonight?’
Annis frowned a little. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You said that men offer compliments when it suits their purpose. So what was my purpose in complimenting you?’
Annis looked away, vexed to realise that she was blushing. She had the feeling that she was straying towards dangerous ground here and was not going to be lured into offering a view. She gave Adam a reluctant smile.
‘As to that, I have no notion.’
Adam shifted slightly. ‘I think that you do. You suspect that I want something and am therefore making myself agreeable.’
Annis laughed. ‘I apologise. I was judging on past experience, my lord. Most gentlemen try to charm the chaperon if they are interested in her charges. Perhaps you are looking to marry and are wanting an introduction to the Misses Crossley, Lord Ashwick?’
Adam kept his face straight. ‘I thank you, but no. They do not interest me. You, on the other hand, Lady Wycherley, are a different matter.’
Annis kept her lips tightly closed and vowed to make no more unwary comments that evening. Adam Ashwick was altogether too quick to take her up on them. And Adam, who evidently knew to a nicety when to leave matters in his dealings with the fair sex, smiled slightly and turned the subject.
‘Did you enjoy Miss Mardyn’s dancing tonight, ma’am? I am not entirely sure that Harrogate was quite ready for the experience.’
Annis smothered an unexpected smile. ‘I found it very imaginative, my lord. I can see why Miss Mardyn is so popular.’
There was an answering smile lurking in Adam Ashwick’s eyes as he took in all the things that Annis had carefully omitted to say.
‘I believe that we have The Death of Captain Cook after the interval,’ he said. ‘That should be something of a contrast. Will it be melancholy, do you think?’
‘Almost certainly,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘If your taste runs to something more classical, my lord, you might wish to return next week, for I believe Mr Jefferson will be appearing in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Or is Shakespeare too sober for you?’
‘On the contrary, I like a good tragedy,’ Adam said easily. ‘However, I am not entirely certain that I shall be here next week. I have business at Eynhallow, my estate towards Skipton, and shall be back and forth to Harrogate during the next month.’
‘Of course,’ Annis murmured. She had forgotten that the Ashwick estate bordered her own land at Starbeck. Starbeck could scarcely aspire to be called an estate, for it was too small, and almost entirely surrounded by its more powerful neighbours. There were the Ashwicks and then, of course, there was Samuel Ingram’s property at Linforth.
‘I understand that your cousin has property in the same direction,’ Adam continued. ‘That charming little house at Starbeck is his, is it not?’
Annis smiled slightly. ‘Starbeck is mine, my lord,’ she