The Regency Season: Hidden Desires. Anne Herries
He was not sure how he’d meant to proceed. That he had deeper feelings for Jenny than any other lady he’d ever known was not in doubt. Her calmness and kindness had made him see what an exceptional young woman she was. He’d been aware of her sensuality from the first but she was so much more—so much that he admired.
In any other circumstances he would have wished to get to know her better, to court her a little, to discover if he liked her as well on closer acquaintance and if she liked him sufficiently to think of becoming his wife. He could not doubt the feeling between them. Adam was well aware that physical attraction meant very little. Passion could be white hot and urgent for a time and then fade away and what had been intensely interesting could become boring. His last mistress had been a greedy little thing and although she’d roused his desire at the beginning he had soon found that he did not truly like her. He thought that liking was very important if one were contemplating marriage. Romantic love would be the cherry on top of the cake if one were lucky enough to find it. Paul was certainly deep in love or lust with Lucy Dawlish, which was why he was so tortured.
Adam had never yet felt true love for a woman. He was a sensual man and enjoyed the chase when in pursuit of a pretty woman—but surely there must be so much more to marriage. Otherwise, one would end by being bored, taking a succession of mistresses and perhaps making one’s wife miserable. Adam would hate himself if he were the cause of deep unhappiness in some unfortunate lady.
It was a curst nuisance that he might have to make a marriage of convenience. Adam had done the calculations and knew that he needed the sum of twenty thousand pounds to save his grandfather’s estate. The bank was beginning to make grumbling noises and it could only be a matter of time before they called their money in. Twenty thousand pounds would pay off their loan and leave a little to spare for Adam to begin to restore the estate to at least a semblance of what it had once been.
Where was he to find such a sum? His own estate was not worth a half of that even if he sold it. He needed an heiress who would be prepared to buy herself a husband with a lump sum up front, and the promise of more to come.
Adam mentally reviewed the heiresses his friends had found for him. Only one of them actually had twenty thousand pounds at her disposal—and that was the lady with the squint. He could not recall her name for she had not registered with him, though he remembered she was the wealthiest of them all. He believed she was the daughter of a Cit, though her mother came from a good country family. Her father had no other children and was a widower.
Would he be prepared to give his daughter and her inheritance to Adam for the promise of an earldom in the future?
Why should he? Adam did not consider it a bargain worth the taking. Were he in the father’s shoes he would kick any man to kingdom come who dared to offer such a debt-ridden estate to him as the marriage price. It wasn’t to be thought of!
He was torn by the need to find a way of saving the estate and his preference for a marriage made out of liking and respect. Given his choice, he believed he might know the bride he would choose—but he had no right to court her, no right to allow her to expect an offer.
Adam acknowledged that he liked Jenny very much. Romantic love was something idiots like Byron, Shakespeare and others of their ilk wrote about, was it not? Adam did not dislike good poetry at the right moment—but flowery sonnets about love? He could only feel revolted, as young men often did. Yet now his thoughts had changed subtly. Was it possible that someone could truly die for love? Adam had felt an odd ache in his chest of late, but surely...it could not be love? The kind of love that lasted forever and was as sweet as honey and the scent of roses...
Jenny had her own perfume, unlike any he had smelled before. He found it intoxicating and wanted to bury his face in her hair—her soft warm flesh—and breathe her in, inhale her essence so that she would never leave him.
Adam laughed at himself. What a fool he was to let his thoughts run away with him. He desired Jenny, he liked her and he respected her. She made him long to sweep her into his arms and take her to his room. She was so lovely, so gentle and honest that he could imagine living with her for the rest of his life. He could see her in his house...see her surrounded by children, girls that looked like her and a boy like him.
He shook his head. Adam had no right to dream. He could not marry anyone until he had worked out what to do about his grandfather’s estate.
Was there some other way of saving it—or at least a part of it? Supposing he sold off the land and the mine, which had ceased to produce copper years ago. He might be able to save the house and park. It would mean taking out loans, which would cripple him for years, but after the old man’s death he could sell off what was left of the estate.
There was nothing he could do here for the moment. His uncle kept to his room, Paul had no use for his company and Hallam was in London. Perhaps he should go down to Cornwall and take a look at the old mine. If there should by chance be an undiscovered seam of copper they might yet find a way of saving the house and park without his having to beg an heiress for her money.
* * *
‘Your papa says that he now thinks we should go to Bath,’ Lady Dawlish announced after dinner that evening when the ladies were alone in the drawing room. ‘He thinks it unsafe for you here, Lucy—and, after what happened to Paul, who knows what might occur next? Papa will write tomorrow and secure a house for us. We shall leave in ten days and Papa will accompany us just to see us settled and then return here.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mama,’ Lucy said, her face lighting up. ‘Papa is so good to allow it.’
‘Well, he had his reservations for we should not wish others to think you uncaring, Lucy. In Bath we shall meet friends and choose our engagements wisely. Papa made a strict rule: there will be no balls or dances.’
‘I do not think I should care to attend a ball for the moment,’ Lucy told her truthfully. ‘I am mourning Mark in my own way. I do miss his friendship terribly and the way he had of teasing one. But I should enjoy the shops, the views and the theatre—which I think acceptable?’
‘Yes, I agree. Had the engagement taken place I could not have contemplated the visit, but in the circumstances I think it best for you, for otherwise you might sink into a decline and that I cannot have. And that wicked man may be lingering in the district. You were known to be close to Mark and he might have it in mind to harm you. It will be safer in Bath, dearest.’
‘It would not be fair to keep Jenny here in seclusion. She very much wishes to buy some new clothes.’
‘Oh, you must not mind me,’ Jenny said. ‘I could always ask a seamstress to call here—though I admit that I do enjoy gazing into the windows of expensive shops.’
Lady Dawlish nodded approvingly. ‘Of course you do, my love, and you must have had your fill of mourning these past months. Well, run along now, my dears. I must speak to Cook. I shall need to plan the menus in advance for your papa must not be neglected while we are from home, Lucy. If you need a little pin money, Jenny dear, you may look to me for it.’
‘I was reliant on my aunt for my clothes, but my lawyer has arranged for an allowance to be paid into a bank for me so I may buy a new wardrobe.’
‘I am glad that you will have some money of your own, Jenny dear. We none of us knew exactly how you had been left.’
‘I am not certain now, ma’am,’ Jenny said, glad of the chance to raise the subject. ‘But Mr Nodgrass says I shall be comfortable. He is to send on a copy of his accounts when they have been transcribed.’
‘That will be a blessing for you, my love,’ her kind friend said. ‘For myself I care not if you have a fortune or not a feather to fly with. We are so happy and grateful to have you with us at this sad time. I hope you will not think of leaving us too soon?’
‘Oh, no, ma’am. I should not dream of leaving you until things are more settled and Lucy is happy again.’
‘What a sweet girl you are, and just what Lucy needs at this time to keep her cheerful. Now I must get on for there is much to arrange...’