Carousel of Hearts by Mary Jo Putney
“I don’t promise to be an expert—we seldom discussed business—but I’ll do my best,” Simon promised. “What do you want to know?”
Adam waved his hand at the documents spread across the wide desk. “I seem to be the possessor of an indecently large fortune. What did I do to earn it? I can’t imagine how I did. At least, not if I was honest.” His mouth twisted. “I’m not sure I want to hear your answer.”
“You can rest easy on that head. I never heard a hint that you behaved dishonorably. Given how ingrown and gossipy the European community in India is, bad behavior would have been hard to conceal. Though, mind you,” he added reflectively, “you would have attracted as much admiration as censure.”
Adam smiled. “Then how did I do it?”
“By sheer, unremitting hard work, and a willingness to take risks. You told me once that you made your original stake playing hazard on your voyage out from England.”
“Really?” Adam was startled. “I wouldn’t have thought that I was a gamester.”
“You weren’t. You explained it to me once.” Simon crossed his long legs, thinking that it was interesting how they could still converse easily even without knowledge of a common past. “You said that a real gamester was addicted to the thrill and that he needs the likelihood of defeat to give the game savor. You played in cold blood, and for one reason only: to win.
“You never gambled unless the odds were good, and a man who is clever at calculating probabilities will always do well at hazard. By the time we met, you did no gaming at all, though you took some fearsome risks in your business. From what I could see, they almost always turned out profitably.”
“What kind of risks?”
Simon considered for a moment. “As I said, I wasn’t well-informed about your business, but I have personal knowledge of one such transaction. There was a mixed-blood sea captain who had lost a ship under mysterious circumstances and was drinking himself to death in a shack near the Bombay waterfront. You staked him to a new ship, with him to receive half the profits if he would risk sailing through an area of the East Indies that was notorious for piracy.
“Everyone thought you were mad to let him have a ship, but your risk paid off. The reason I know is because you suggested I invest in his cargoes when I was on the verge of financial disaster, and I benefited enormously from your advice.”
“So I let other men risk their lives while I waxed rich on the profits?” Adam raised his brows. “Certainly not illegal, but somewhat parasitic.”
“It’s not parasitic to give a man a new lease on life. Eventually the captain earned enough to buy the ship from you. Besides”—Simon grinned—”if you are thinking yourself cowardly, I should mention that you went with him on his first voyage. I believe that you have a saber scar on your left forearm?”
“Is that what that is?” Adam asked, automatically glancing at his coated arm.
“You had to fight your way through the Strait of Malacca.”
Adam sighed and ran his fingers through his brown hair. “I suppose that is better than letting others always run the risks for me. But sometimes I wonder who Adam Yorke is. The man seems like a complete stranger to me.”
“You were—are—a complicated man, Adam. I was probably closer to you than any of your other acquaintances in India, yet I could not have said that I knew you really well.”
“How did you see me, then?” Adam’s gaze was steady.
Simon hesitated before answering. “As a man who had genuine intellectual curiosity about many things. You strove for wealth, yet did not have an acquisitive nature. Much of your success came from being a good judge of character, as with the mixed-blood sea captain. You gave opportunities to people who deserved them, and in return, you earned loyalty and your employees’ best efforts.” Then, slowly, he tried to define a more subtle impression, “I always thought that some secret passion drove you, but I never knew what it was.”
Adam rubbed absently at his head bandage, now much reduced in size. The more he learned, the less he understood. Was there really a dark secret at the heart of Adam Yorke? One would think that he would be aware of it, even now, if that was the case.
The thought suggested another question. “Did I have a personal life in India, or was it all work?”
“You avoided most of the usual social events,” Simon said. “You said once that you misliked the fact that a fortune made you acceptable to families that would have sneered at your birth a few years earlier.”
He thought of another relevant fact. “You did have a mistress. A young Chinese girl that you bought from a slaver, I believe. You bought her to set her free, but she didn’t want to leave you.”
“Good Lord,” Adam said, startled. “What became of her when I left India?” Then, with alarm, “I didn’t bring her back, did I?”
“Never fear, she isn’t stashed somewhere in London,” his friend assured him. “You gave her a substantial dowry and she was planning on going to Macau to find a husband after you left. A practical race, the Chinese.”
Adam smiled wryly. “As rakish pasts go, it could be worse.” But as they drifted to more neutral topics, he couldn’t help wondering what other surprises his past held.
* * * *
Lord Launceston was a pleasant addition to the household, and the next few days passed smoothly. Adam was grateful that the others treated him casually, as if his amnesia was no more than a mild summer cold that would soon pass.
They were all willing to talk when he felt the need for information, but the atmosphere was always unstressed. It would have been harder if they had made him feel the weight of their anxieties or expectations.
Most of his time was spent with his cousin, and their tastes and thinking meshed so exactly that it was obvious why they had decided to marry. Nonetheless, he sensed a slight withdrawal on Antonia’s part whenever they were in circumstances conducive to physical intimacy.
He was baffled. Antonia was in most ways spontaneous and affectionate, but there was a line of reserve that warned him not to behave as a man usually would with his future wife.
Adam admired her exquisite figure and wondered if her exuberant red-gold hair was as silken as it looked, but he controlled his desires. There was too much he didn’t know about their mutual history. Perhaps Antonia was reserved now because he had been too importunate in the past. It was not a subject that he felt he could discuss with her, so he bided his time.
In the week after Lord Launceston moved to Thornleigh, he and Judith spent considerable time together. They hunted for fossils and flowers, admired the seas and craters of the moon, discussed books they had read, and generally lived in each other’s pockets. Judith found Simon’s companionship enormously, and dangerously, enjoyable.
Unfortunately, their closeness seemed to have no effect whatsoever on Antonia. Not only was the lady of the house singularly un-jealous. She scarcely seemed to notice her companion and guest because all her attention was on Adam. Unable to bear watching the other couple, more and more Judith turned to Simon.
The summer weather turned unusually hot, and after a late dinner everyone decided to take a turn in the garden in hopes of cooler air. After Antonia took Adam’s arm, Simon offered his to Judith and they followed the other couple into the lingering dusk.
The roses were luxuriantly fragrant at this time of the evening, and Judith inhaled deeply. Her nerves had been strung as tightly as her harp strings for the last week. Now it was pleasant to simply enjoy the moment and the presence of the man at her side.
Ahead of them they saw Adam pluck a yellow rose, then present it to Antonia with a flourish and a comment that made her laugh out loud. Still laughing, she tucked the blossom behind her ear before taking her cousin’s arm again.
Watching from their distance, Simon said ruefully, “We have not made much progress in our attempts to separate Adam from Antonia, have we?”
“It would be easier to do that if we were malicious.” At Simon’s questioning glance, Ju
“That must be our problem. Neither of us intends harm. We just want everyone to live happily ever after with the right partner.”
There was nothing to add to that, so for the next half hour they followed the winding paths, saying little. Judith had always loved Thornleigh’s gardens, and never more than tonight. Though the sky was not yet dark, already one star shone bright above the horizon. Judith pointed to it. “Is Venus the evening star now?”
“Yes,” Simon said, pleased with her knowledge. “Venus is the brightest object in the heavens after the sun and the moon, and she makes the best of evening stars. Did you know that the word planet means wanderer? That’s what the ancients called planets, because they wandered through the heavens.”
“If it isn’t a real star, does that mean one can’t make a wish on it?”
Her companion glanced at her, an odd expression on his face. “Of course you can. Wishes and dreams come from a higher place than astronomy. What better star to wish on than Venus, the planet of love?”
Judith stared at the bright point of light, then shook her head. What she wished for was impossible, beyond even dreams. Better not to think the words or admit that hopeless longing.
Eventually their peregrinations brought them to the stream. They stopped to listen to the softly splashing water. In the quiet, they could hear the sounds of the other couple approaching along the same path.
Just before Adam and Antonia would appear around the bend in the trail, Simon turned to his companion. “It’s time we gave Antonia something more to think about.”
Judith saw a quick flash of mischievous smile before he pulled her into his arms and bent over for a kiss. She gasped, knowing this was the greatest mistake possible, but she could not prevent her arms from sliding around Simon’s neck. Nor could she stop herself from straining up against him, responding to his kiss with every iota of desire that she had ever suppressed.
Dimly she heard the other couple’s steps and words stop abruptly, then the sounds of quiet withdrawal, but that was infinitely far away. Reality was the feel of Simon’s arms around her, his flare of passion at her response, the warmth of his mouth against hers.
She had been wise to fear the consequences of letting Simon pretend to court her. What was subterfuge to him had come achingly alive for her. Judith, who had never allowed herself to dream, found that she was drowning in a lifetime of longing. She had no idea how long they stood wrapped in each other—an endless time that was far too quickly done.
Knowing that the longer they continued, the harder it would be to deal with the consequences, she broke away. In the near dark, she could see just enough of Simon’s expression to see that he was as shaken as she was.
Of course he was unnerved. He had undertaken a make believe embrace to stimulate a reaction from Antonia. It must have been a shock to have the quiet companion turn into a wanton in his arms, kissing him as if he was her last hope of heaven ... or of hell.
After a struggle with her pulse and breathing, Judith was able to speak lightly, as if she had been only acting. “That should have stirred the broth a bit. Let us hope that the results benefit our little conspiracy.”
There was a long, long pause. Simon’s face tightened, then smoothed out to look like cool marble sculpture, the deepening night emphasizing the faint cleft in his chin. “Let us hope.”
As they returned to the house, they did not touch in even the slightest and most casual of ways.
* * * *
Antonia had been telling Adam an amusing story of how as children they waded in the stream, to the intense irritation of their keepers. Then they rounded the bend in the trail and came on Simon and Judith embracing, oblivious to the world around them.
Antonia’s breath whooshed out like a collapsing bellows at the sight. She would have stood gaping had not Adam grasped her upper arm, turned her around, and drawn her away.
She clung to him numbly as he led them away from the brook. Why shouldn’t Simon be kissing another woman? Antonia had given him his conge. Did she really want him pining for her?
Yes! She was behaving despicably, like a jealous female, a breed she had always despised. She should be happy at the thought that two people she cherished were interested in each other. Now that she thought of it, Judith’s gentle bluestocking ways and quiet understanding were just what Simon needed.
Since that was the case, why did she feel like sitting down in the middle of the path and howling?
Adam’s deep voice said with amusement, “Why are you so surprised? It has been obvious that there is something between them. Do you object to your companion having a suitor?”
Antonia realized that her fingers were digging into her cousin’s arm. She forced herself to relax. Who was she to object to Simon seeking consolation elsewhere? She herself had decided to marry Adam within a matter of days.
But that was different!
She called herself a rude name. “As I have said before, I am not always very perceptive. Most of my attention has been on you.”
“I think I should be flattered,” he murmured, stopping in the middle of the path and turning to face her. In the gathering dark his gaze was very intense, his eyes more green than gray as they probed too deeply for comfort.
Adam raised a hand and, with butterfly delicacy, traced the lines of her face, skimming from brow to cheek, then along the edge of her jaw to the sensitive curve of her throat. His touch was deeply erotic, and Antonia shivered in a mixture of desire and fear. She craved his touch, yet it felt wrong to want her cousin in such a way.
“And why has most of your attention been on me, little cousin?” he asked softly. “Because I am an injured unfortunate who must be cared for, or because I am your future husband?”
His hand had circled to the back of her neck with soft strokes that warmed and soothed her. Antonia’s emotions were hopelessly tangled between wanting and doubting. “Some of both, I think,” she said, her voice unsteady.
“What a pity.” His hand dropped away.
Antonia felt bereft. She was sharply aware that she did not know what she wanted of Adam.
What was worse was that Adam knew it.
* * * *
When Adam returned to his bedchamber, Bradley materialized to see if his master required anything. Underneath his piratical visage, Bradley had the soul of a solicitous mother hen.
Untying his cravat, Adam asked, “Did I speak often of my cousin?”
“Lady Antonia? Hardly ever, sir.” Bradley pondered. “When her letters arrived, you would look pleased, like a cat in the cream pot, but you never spoke of her.” More thought. “Did you know that you have a miniature of her in the back of your watch case?”
“No, I didn’t.” Adam dug out his gold watch.
It had simply been one of his possessions, and he had paid no particular attention to it. Investigation disclosed a catch that caused the back panel to snap open. Inside was a portrait of Antonia, her apricot hair and eager smile caught with vivid life. She must have been sixteen or seventeen when it was painted.
Adam studied the portrait, as he must have done often over those long years at the opposite end of the earth. His heart twisted as he realized what must have been the “secret passion” that had driven him in India.
Regrettably, he had no better idea what to do about it now than he must have had then.
* * * *
Antonia slept badly and decided to skip her usual early-morning ride. Thornleigh could get on without her personal supervision for a few hours. She lay abed later than usual, without finding rest.
When she went down to the breakfast parlor, she found Judith drinking tea and restlessly crumbling toast into a pile of crumbs. At Antonia’s entrance, her companion looked up with dismay. It was most unusual for the mistress of Thornleigh to be here at this hour.
Gathering
Antonia halted her with a quick gesture. “There is nothing that needs to be said.” She knew that she sounded stiff, but could not bring herself to be gracious.
“If you are distressed, there is much to be said,” Judith said gravely.
This time Antonia managed to sound more natural. “I was . . . surprised,” she admitted. “I had not realized what terms you and Lord Launceston are on. I fear that I have been sadly unobservant.”
Judith still looked anxious. “I don’t want you to think we’ve been sneaking behind your back.” She stopped and bit her lip, looking unhappier than ever.
“It is hardly a question of sneaking.” Antonia gave a brittle laugh. “You and Lord Launceston are both of age and unencumbered with spouses. I don’t think that he is the sort to trifle with a female’s affections. Even if he was, it would be presumptuous of me to be dropping hints in your ear. You are supposed to be my chaperon, not vice versa.”
Vexed, Judith said sharply, “Antonia, you are babbling. I think I would prefer that you were angry. It has to be upsetting to see someone you were so recently involved with embracing another woman. What happened was something of an accident. Please believe that I would rather not see Simon again than to have my friendship with you damaged.”
Judith’s directness dissolved Antonia’s brittle manner. She flopped down in a chair. “Lord, Judith, I’m acting like a widgeon, and I know it,” she said ruefully. “It was a shock to see you together when Simon and I were betrothed just a few weeks ago, but who am I to talk? I accepted Adam in half the time.”
She leaned forward earnestly. “When I thought about it, I realized that you and Simon are really much better suited than he and I ever were. You are more intellectual, far more accepting, and would never plague the poor man like I did. If you and he are truly attached, I will be the first to wish you happy.”
Judith feared that she was going to melt into a little puddle of pure guilt. So much for theories of jealousy and pride. Antonia was being so understanding that it was almost unbearable.