LITMIR.BIZ

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up and jerked on the check string. ‘We’ll see about that!’ The coachman’s face appeared at the window. ‘James, drive at once to Lord Weston’s house. He must learn he cannot have everything he wants. Pru, if he remains adamant I will offer Bates a place. I have been intending to increase my stables, perhaps take breeding more seriously. I shall need an experienced groom.’

      The detour was short. As Decima stepped down, she saw movement against the study window. So, Adam was at home. ‘I shall be a few minutes. Please go down to the mews if you wish, Pru.’

      Adam’s butler greeted her with a respectful bow, which was cut short when he saw she was without a companion. ‘Good morning, madam. I regret that Lord Weston is not at home.’

      ‘I believe he will be to me,’ Decima retorted with a smile. ‘Do not trouble to announce me.’ She slipped past the astonished butler before he could move and was twisting the study door handle by the time he had turned.

      ‘Madam!’

      Then she was inside the room, facing Adam, who dropped the newspaper he was holding onto the desk and stared at her. ‘Decima!’ He took a long stride towards her before she overcame the shock of sensual pleasure that always struck her whenever she saw him.

      She threw up her hands. ‘Don’t you Decima me! How could you, Adam? I would not have believed it of you.’

      He stopped abruptly and ran his hand through his hair. It needed trimming, she saw, wishing she could follow his hand with her own, tangle their fingers together in the thick, dark hair. Feeling like that did nothing to soothe her temper.

      ‘Look, I can see why you are angry, but you have to admit, the provocation was strong.’

      ‘There is some inconvenience to you, my lord, and you regard it as provocation? That it is enough justification to excuse your action?’

      ‘I should hardly call it inconvenience.’ He gestured towards a chair. ‘Decima, please sit down and let us discuss this. I must confess I was thinking about you, puzzling about how I could mend fences again.’

      ‘A simple word to Bates would have done it, I would have thought.’ Decima moved away, trying to focus on a small group of Meissen figures on the mantleshelf to avoid looking at him.

      ‘You feel I use our servants as go-betweens?’ He seemed puzzled.

      ‘An apology would have put things to rights, I should imagine?’ Decima reached out a finger and lightly touched the sweeping skirts of one little figure. It was exquisite. If she concentrated on that she could keep herself detached from this quarrel, put it onto an impersonal level where the pain would not reach her. ‘Pru is very upset.’

      ‘Pru?’ He seemed genuinely confused. Could he be so indifferent or uncaring about his servants that he did not realise the hurt he had inflicted on Pru and Bates? ‘Oh, you mean that her interference yesterday led to that scene. You are fortunate that you have a maid who is so attached to your interests and so conscientious.’

      ‘It is Pru’s interests I am concerned with, not mine.’ Decima turned sharply to face him. ‘And Bates’s, of course.’

      ‘Bates?’ Adam laid a hand on her arm and frowned. ‘Decima, are we completely at cross-purposes? Why are you here?’

      If she stood on tiptoe she could brush her lips against his, curl her arms around his neck and be held close to him. She was aware of his cologne, of the faint smell of woollen broadcloth that had been recently pressed with a hot iron, of the scent of clean, warm man. Her eyelids felt heavy and it was as much as she could do not to sway towards him.

      ‘I am here because you have broken Pru’s heart and I am very, very angry with you.’ Decima’s voice shook slightly and she struggled for control. ‘And disappointed.’

      ‘I have done nothing to Pru! What the devil is this about? Decima, I’m trying to apologise for hitting your infuriating brother yesterday. I wish I’d done it harder, but I upset you, so now I have to wish I’d never done it at all.’

      ‘But you told Bates he couldn’t have the cottage! He and Pru think he would lose his place if they marry—and to do that just because I asked you to go yesterday—that is so unfair.’ Decima freed her arm and moved back a little so she could watch Adam’s face without the distracting closeness. ‘Of course you should not have hit Charlton, and he was quite within his rights to be angry, finding us like that. He is pompous and overbearing, but he is my brother. What else could I do but tell you to leave? What if Olivia had come to hear of it? She still might.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘But to take it out on poor Pru—I could not believe you would do such a thing.’

      Adam’s expression had run from puzzlement, through enlightenment to rueful amusement. ‘It’s not funny,’ Decima snapped.

      ‘I agree. I was mocking myself. Do you know, I had been existing under the illusion that I was in control of my life, my household, my destiny, and now I find that I am merely the plaything of my staff. Did Pru tell you in so many words that I had withdrawn the offer of the cottage, or that I had forbidden Bates to marry her?’

      ‘No…’ Decima wrinkled her brow in an effort to recall the exact words. ‘No, not exactly. She said that Jethro—Bates—did not think he would be able to have the cottage after all, and he might lose his place and you were—what was it?—oh, yes, on the high ropes.’

      ‘Decima, my love, has it occurred to you that we are both being manipulated by our servants? Pru and Bates obviously decided that we had quarrelled and that we were unlikely to get back on speaking terms again without a powerful incentive.’

      ‘You mean they are matchmaking? But…but…You are engaged! What did you call me?’

      There was a tap at the door and the butler was inside before Adam could speak. Decima blinked at the man. Knocking at all, let alone sliding into rooms looking decidedly shifty, was not the sort of behaviour one expected of a top-flight butler.

      ‘My lord, Mrs Channing’s barouche has just driven up.’

      ‘Hell. Thank you, Dalrymple, I am sure you can make quite a business of taking the ladies’ things and showing them into the salon.’

      The butler allowed himself a grimace. ‘I have never yet succeeded in ushering Mrs Channing anywhere she does not wish to go. She is aware that you normally spend some time in the study in the morning. If the lady would care to come with me, it would be safer—’ He broke off at the sound of the knocker, then they all froze. Someone was opening it and there was the sound of voices.

      ‘Peters—I believed him to be in the kitchens.’ Dalrymple lowered his voice. ‘I can hardly open this door and go out now…’

      ‘Stall.’ Adam seized Decima’s wrist and pulled her towards a cupboard door in the alcove beside the fireplace. ‘There should be room.’

      Decima found herself squeezed into a space that seemed to be half filled with books and boxes. With the pressure of Adam’s body against hers she wriggled onto a shelf, managing to perch on the narrow ledge, her face squashed against his shirt front, her knees pressed into his thighs.

      The door shut behind them, apparently with Dalrymple’s full weight against it, for Adam was pushed even harder against her. Then a familiar voice penetrated the panels.

      ‘There you are, Dalrymple. Where is Lord Weston?’

       Chapter Twenty-One

      ‘I regret that his lordship is not at home, ma’am.’

      ‘I saw movement in this room as the carriage arrived.’ Decima wondered from whence Mrs Channing got her overwhelming self-confidence.

      ‘You must have glimpsed me, ma’am. I was just ascertaining that his lordship’s inkwells had been filled. One cannot rely on new footmen, I regret to say. Would you and Miss Channing

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