LITMIR.BIZ

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mistress, but, with her headache rapidly returning, Decima was past caring.

      She smoothed her hair and her gown and made her way downstairs, past the rigid figure of the butler and into the small drawing room. Why she should be feeling quite so ridiculously apprehensive she could not say, but her stomach appeared to be trying to tie itself into a knot and she felt positively queasy.

      ‘Adam…’

      ‘Do you really have a headache?’ He was standing by the cold fireplace, one booted foot on the fender, his brows drawn together as he regarded her.

      ‘A little, it is better than it was.’ Decima returned his unsmiling look with a level one of her own. ‘What exactly is so important that you must outrage Lady Freshford’s butler so?’

      ‘You have had a very busy morning, Decima, have you not?’ Adam drew the leather gloves he had been holding in one hand through the other, making a snapping noise that jolted her stretched nerves painfully.

      ‘I have had a visit from Olivia, that’s all.’ She was becoming angry now, but the apprehension was still there, coiling inside her.

      ‘All? I gather I have you to thank for the transformation of my fiancée from a modest and innocent young lady into one of a highly coming disposition.’

      ‘But…but all I said was…’ Decima lost her voice. What on earth had Olivia been saying—and doing?

      ‘Yes, Decima, do enlighten me. At what stage in your discussion of my lovemaking did you suggest that Olivia throw all precepts of well-bred decorum to the winds and hurl herself into my arms?’

      ‘I did no such thing! And I have not been discussing your lovemaking, as you put it.’ She took a few agitated steps away from him and swung round again, appalled at just how wrong her well-meaning advice had gone. ‘Olivia asked to speak to me. She wanted to confide in me. What was I to do? Spurn her? She has no female friend to talk to.’

      ‘She has her mother.’ Adam’s face was set and hard with anger.

      ‘She is terrified of her mother. Olivia would not say boo to a goose and she certainly could not confide her worries to Mrs Channing, not without receiving such a scolding that the poor child would be prostrated.’

      ‘So, what did she want to talk about?’

      ‘I have no intention of telling you, she spoke to me in confidence.’ Decima was uneasily aware that Adam was getting closer, and began to edge away behind the illusory safety of a pie-crust side table.

      ‘Decima, do you want me to get it out of her—or will you tell me?’ His voice was dangerously quiet.

      ‘Very well, if you are going to bully her otherwise. She told me that she was sometimes somewhat nervous of you. I put it down to her youth and inexperience and her very sheltered upbringing. Now I do not wonder at it, if you treat her to many of these exhibitions of domineering ill-temper!’

      Adam ignored her sweeping insults. ‘So, what did you tell her to do?’

      ‘Talk to you, that is all. Explain that she was nervous, using some matter she felt less shy about mentioning than—than intimate topics. I was sure that once she got into the way of confiding in you, her trust would soon grow.’

      ‘Very sound advice, I am sure.’ Decima was not lulled into relaxing by his sarcastic tone. Adam sounded far from grateful for her assistance. ‘And exactly how might she interpret that as throwing herself into my arms and kissing me passionately? If she had not been so unskilled, I would have taken her for a loose woman.’

      ‘She was also alarmed by your kisses,’ Decima blurted out. ‘I simply suggested that if she made some effort to return any gestures of affection you made, she might find herself growing accustomed.’

      ‘And you are so very experienced that you can offer advice?’ Adam was closer now, almost within arm’s reach. Decima edged further back and came up sharply against the lowered flap of Lady Freshford’s writing desk.

      ‘You know exactly how experienced I am,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t understand why you are so angry. I would have thought you could have trusted me to try and do what is best for you, as a friend. Olivia is very shy and very sheltered—it would be dreadful if her fears led her to do something…’ she hesitated, seeking the right word ‘…something unwise.’

      ‘You think she would be wise to marry me, or that I would be wise to marry her?’ Adam’s eyes were very green, very hard, as he watched her face.

      Decima shook her head, baffled at the question. ‘You asked her to marry you, she accepted. For either of you to cry off would create a scandal. It could ruin Olivia. Why are you speaking like this? You sound almost as though you don’t want to marry her!’

      Adam watched Decima’s face, seeing the confusion chase across her features. She wanted to do the best thing for him, and for Olivia, and he loved her for it. Whether that was coming from her sense of duty, or whether she really did want to see him married to another woman, he could not fathom. He had begun to think he understood Decima Ross—now he was far from sure.

      ‘You think I might have made a mistake?’ he asked slowly, trying to read her thoughts in the expressive, wide eyes. The frustrated anger that had driven him to demand to see her was ebbing in the face of that candid gaze, despite the fact that she had put his progress with Olivia back by days, if not a week.

      ‘If you have, there is nothing you can do about it!’ She was staring at him, horrified. ‘You cannot mean to jilt the poor girl?’

      ‘No, no, of course not,’ Adam said slowly. If his plans did not work, then he would have to accept, and make the best of, a marriage to Olivia Channing. But he had no intention of it coming to that, however Decima might unwittingly try to scupper his scheme. He toyed with the idea of telling her the truth, but baulked. She was surprisingly good at hiding her true feelings for him—unless, of course, she had none, only feelings of friendship.

      ‘I am interested in your opinion, that’s all.’ He turned aside, trying to make his voice light. ‘You’re right, Olivia is very sheltered—I should take account of that.’ And possibly push her further? He might have to, now she was trying to apply Decima’s well-meaning advice. He had certainly been seriously taken aback when what had been intended as a kiss designed to send Olivia into nervous, blushing confusion had resulted in her bravely throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his head down so she could return it with clumsy determination.

      He was jolted out of his thoughts by Decima. ‘You are in a very strange mood today, Adam.’ She sounded less angry than exasperated with him; he supposed he deserved that. Goodness knew what she made of all this. ‘Promise me you will not jilt poor Olivia.’

      ‘Do you really think I would do such a thing?’ It hurt, he found, to have her believe he might. What would she say when she discovered what he was planning to do? God, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her—just hold her, so he could smell that elusive jasmine scent, feel her soft warmth against him. He reached out a hand and caught hers. For a moment she resisted him, then allowed him to lead her to the sofa.

      ‘No…no I don’t, except that when you act so strangely, I don’t understand you at all.’ She hesitated, looking down at their clasped hands, then gently pulled her own free. ‘Do you love her?’

      ‘No.’ He could not lie to her about that. ‘No. It is time I married; you heard the views of my family on the subject. Love is not expected when persons of our class wed. You must continue to encourage Bates and Pru if you want to witness a love match.’ He had hoped to distract her by talking of the two servants, but she made a little gesture as though to brush that aside and raised troubled eyes to his.

      ‘You will be kind to her though, won’t you? Olivia has not had much affection in her life, I think.’ She caught his hand in hers again, apparently unconscious of anything but the need to impress upon him the importance of what she was saying. Adam tightened his fingers around hers, feeling the beat of her

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