Carousel of Hearts, Page 2

  Her cousin gazed up at the sound of her voice, and Judith got a clear view of his face. His wide-boned features were pleasant rather than handsome, and for a moment Judith saw the same uncertainty she had noticed when he was outside. Then his face lit up at the sight of Antonia’s headlong rush.

  Two steps above the bottom of the stairs, Antonia launched herself at her cousin. It said much for Adam Yorke’s reflexes and strength that he was able to catch her in midair, the force of her leap whirling him halfway around. He gave Antonia an exuberant hug before setting her down on the marble floor.

  The cousins’ laughter joined and floated up, Adam exclaiming in a deep, rich baritone, “Good Lord, Lady Hoyden, haven’t you grown up yet?”

  “Of course not!” Antonia’s arms were linked around his neck as she beamed up into his face. “Wouldn’t you be dreadfully disappointed if I had?”

  “I expect I would.”

  Adam touched a gentle hand to his cousin’s bright hair as Judith watched. She felt embarrassed to observe the intimacy between them.

  Reminding herself that the butler was also an interested spectator, Judith descended the stairs at a much slower rate than her employer. Antonia might think of Adam as her brother, but the world at large would consider her raptures unseemly, and part of Judith’s job was to protect her employer from censure. That meant making her presence known now.

  As she reached the bottom of the staircase, Antonia glanced up with a vivid smile. “Judith, you will have gathered that this is my prodigal cousin, Adam Yorke. Adam, this is my companion, Mrs. Winslow.”

  As the newcomer turned to her, Judith saw that Adam was only a little over average height, but his broad frame made him seem larger. His eyes were the changeable kind, gray-green with flecks of brown, and as they fell on her, she saw surprise in them.

  His expression warmed to amusement as he bowed very correctly over Judith’s hand. His fingers clasped hers with the practiced gentleness of a man who must be careful of using too much strength, but she still felt power in his touch.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Winslow. If I look startled, it is because Tony has been systematically misleading me for the last two years.” He glanced at his cousin. “So this is the ferocious widow that Lady Forrester foisted on you. I thought there was something smoky about that tale—I couldn’t imagine you accepting foisting from anyone.”

  Antonia laughed. “I assure you, she is the veriest dragon. Say something in dragon, Judith.”

  Perfectly straight-faced, Judith said, “Most improper, Lady Antonia. That is the outside of enough. Lady Antonia.” She had the exact inflection of Lady Forrester at her most top-lofty. She ended with “Deplorable what modern manners are coming to, Lady Antonia!” and her listeners succumbed to appreciative laughter.

  “I am convinced. Mrs. Winslow is clearly ferocious.” Retrieving his package from the butler, Adam suggested, “Shall we adjourn to the drawing room? In the best traveler’s tradition, I have brought back bits of trumpery from the ends of the earth.”

  They went to the more informal sitting room, where Adam produced marvelous gifts that could hardly be called trumpery. There was an exquisite cloisonné pendant, smooth ivory figurines, even a crystal scent bottle from China with elegant goldfish painted on the inside surface.

  Antonia unplugged the bottle and sniffed, her eyes closed. “M-m-m, how wonderful. It smells so un-English. I can fancy myself in an Oriental bazaar.”

  As Antonia passed the bottle to Judith, Adam said, “The Orient has its share of less appealing odors, but this particular perfume is said to be the favorite of the Emperor of China’s chief concubine.”

  He stopped and laughed ruefully. “Now that I am back in England, I expect I shouldn’t mention such a thing to an unmarried lady.”

  “Don’t you dare get missish on me,” Antonia said, her voice stern but with laughter shining through. Having Adam within touching distance still seemed too good to be true.

  She studied her cousin hungrily, feeling an odd duality. Though his open, laugh-lined face seemed more familiar than her own, at the same time she felt the span of years that lay between them. His warm eyes were the same, as was his teasing half-smile, but years of sun and wind had weathered his complexion, making him look older and more authoritative.

  Antonia knew that Adam had done rather well with his business ventures and that he had had experiences she could never really understand. It was easy to imagine him as a formidable adversary. Yet still he felt like her cousin and favorite relation, not like a stranger.

  While she had pondered, Adam produced a length of brilliant silk and laid it in her arms. Antonia gasped at its incredible lightness, and the shimmering, ever-changing colors defied description. One of the rich shades that the sunlight struck from the material was the same apricot as her hair.

  There was also a broad border of gold embroidery along one edge, but beyond that, words failed her. She lifted a length of the fragile shining stuff in her hands, admiring its softness and the sensual way it flowed. “This is the most beautiful fabric I’ve ever seen, Adam. Where is it from?”

  “India. It’s a sari, the garment Indian women wear.” He reached inside his coat for an envelope and handed it to her. “No mere male could begin to describe how it is worn, but a woman I knew in Bombay wrote down directions for the correct way to fold it. You’ll probably want to have the fabric made into a dress, but I was sure that you would want to try it Indian-style at least once.”

  “Of course.” Her arms full of silk, Antonia impulsively leaned across to kiss Adam’s cheek. “As usual, you think of everything. Thank you.”

  Adam tensed slightly at her touch. Though he was clean-shaven, her lips registered the faint, barely perceptible prickle of whiskers as they pressed against his cheek. It was a very masculine texture.

  More clearly than words, the contact reminded her that Adam was a man, not a boy. Disconcerted, she drew back from the contact quickly.

  Perhaps she imagined the slight pause before Adam smiled and dug out one last item. “And this is for you, Mrs. Winslow.”

  Judith had been doing her considerable best to efface herself to invisibility, so she was startled when Adam Yorke held the gift out to her. For most of her life she had been an onlooker, the one who had no right to expect presents or special favors. The thoughtfulness of his gesture made her voice catch when she tried to speak. “You shouldn’t have brought me anything, Mr. Yorke. You don’t even know me!”

  “True, but I wanted to turn Antonia’s companion up sweet,” he said, using the slang with the utmost gravity. “I thought that a box for medications would be a suitable choice for an aging widow of uncertain temper.”

  As Judith gazed into the warm, changeable eyes, she realized that Adam Yorke also knew much about being an outsider. For the first time, she wondered why he had been raised with Antonia and what had become of his parents.

  But of course that was none of her business. She bent her head to examine the wooden box he placed in her hands.

  “It’s made from sandalwood,” he said.

  The box was inlaid with ivory and exquisitely carved in a rich pattern of flowers and leaves. A faint spicy scent was noticeable when Judith raised the lid. The interior was divided into velvet-lined compartments of different sizes. Surely the box had been expensive, and it was a thoughtfully chosen gift that would be useful to any female, of any age or disposition.

  “It is the loveliest thing I have ever owned,” Judith said softly as she glanced up. If she had been Adam’s cousin, she would have kissed him, too, but she contented herself with a smile. “Thank you. I shall cherish it always.” Then, teasingly, “It will be perfect for my pills and nostrums.”

  They all laughed. Then Judith withdrew to the window seat to resume her embroidery, leaving the cousins talking in the kind of half-completed sentences that close relatives or very good friends use.

  Judith also rang for the butler and gave a quiet order for the midday m
eal to be set back. Antonia and Adam would need to talk the first effusions out before they could think of food.

  After an hour of nonstop dialogue, Antonia asked the question that had been prominent in her mind ever since her cousin had written that he was returning to England. “How long will you be staying, Adam? At least a few months, I hope.”

  He cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “Will you be hopelessly cast down if I say that I am back for good?”

  “That’s wonderful!” Antonia almost bounced in her chair. She seemed to be talking exclusively in exclamation points today. Fortunate that Aunt Lettie wasn’t around. “What are your plans?”

  His eyes intent on hers, Adam hesitated for a long moment before shaking his head. “It’s too soon to say. I need time to become reacquainted with England. What about you, Tony? I spent most of a year thinking that you were a respectably married lady, only to have you write that you had sent Lord Ramsay to the rightabout. Have you brought anyone else up to scratch yet?”

  “Such vulgarity, cousin.” She grimaced. “I’ve had no shortage of proposals, but none worth accepting.”

  “What happened with Ramsay? You wrote that you had called things off, but you never gave a reason. Did he behave badly?”

  “No need to look so protective, Adam. Lord Ramsay was a perfect gentleman.” Antonia smiled wryly and toyed with the Chinese scent bottle. “That was the problem. I decided it was time I accepted somebody, and Ramsay was the best of the lot—handsome, wealthy, titled, good-natured . . . and a complete bore.

  “I kept dragging my feet, and finally he gave me an ultimatum. Set a wedding date or the betrothal was off.” She chuckled. “You would not believe the alacrity with which I called things off.’’

  “Minx.”

  “By that time, I think he was as relieved as I was,” Antonia said a trifle defensively.

  “Are you determined never to marry, Tony?”

  Antonia considered her answer. Even to Adam, she would not reveal her foolish romanticism, her desire to fall totally in love. Especially not to Adam. “I would like to marry,” she said slowly, “but I also would like to feel something more than mild affection for my husband.”

  “As romantic as ever, I see.” Adam gave her his warmest smile. “Well, you can always marry me. I rather fancy the idea of settling down, and you’re the only woman I know in England.”

  After another silence that lasted a moment too long, Antonia laughed. “Be careful what you say, Adam. Think how appalled you would be if I accepted.”

  “I was prepared to accept the consequences,” he lightly.

  Across the room, Judith caught a note in Adam Yorke’s voice that made her glance up. Perhaps it took a stranger to see that he was speaking in dead earnest, though her employer seemed oblivious to that fact. Antonia may think of Adam as a brother, but clearly he did not see his beautiful cousin as a sister.

  Judith returned to her needlework, embarrassed at seeing more than she should. It was an unfortunate situation. Fond though Antonia was of Adam, she didn’t see him in a romantic light. For Adam’s sake, Judith hoped that he would not pine after what he could never have. Far better that he seek a female who would return his affections.

  Such a woman would be very lucky.

  The butler entered and made the discreet throat-clearing noise he used to gain attention. “Lady Fairbourne, shall I direct that the midday meal be served?”

  Antonia glanced guiltily at the clock. “Lord, look at the time, I’ll wager Cook is furious. We’ll be down in ten minutes.”

  After Burton withdrew, Adam said with puzzlement, “Lady Fairbourne?”

  Antonia cocked her head to one side. “Didn’t I ever write you about that?”

  “As I recall, Fairbourne was one of your father’s minor titles, but surely your cousin Spenston holds that now.”

  Antonia straightened up in the sofa and said haughtily, “I, sir, am Baroness Fairbourne in my own right.”

  Her dignity dissolved into chuckles. “It’s the strangest thing. After Papa died and the solicitors were dealing with the legal aspects someone noticed that the Fairbourne title is a barony by writ.”

  “Which means?”

  “Such baronies go back to Norman times, and they can be inherited by a female in the absence of male heirs. A barony by writ can be submerged in higher tides, then liberated when there is a female heir but no male one. The rest of Papa’s titles and the entailed property went to Cousin Roger when he became Earl of Spenston, but Fairbourne stayed with me.”

  Warming to her topic, she continued, “Papa’s lawyer told me that the de Ros barony, which is thought to be the oldest peerage in England, has gone through eight or nine family names. It’s dreadfully complicated. If I had sisters, we would be coheirs to the title, and none of us would be called Lady Fairbourne. The title would be in abeyance, and it would stay that way until all of the claims were concentrated in one person again—for example, if one sister had a child, and the other sisters didn’t. Some baronies by writ have been in abeyance for centuries.”

  Seeing Adam’s bemused expression, she said kindly, “It’s all right if you don’t understand. It took the lawyer ages to explain to me.”

  “I can understand why,” Adam said dryly. “So, which are you, Lady Antonia or Lady Fairbourne?”

  “That’s where the fun comes in.” Antonia smiled wickedly. “In one sense, as the daughter of an earl my rank is higher rank than a mere baron. But Lady Antonia is a courtesy title, while the barony makes me a peer in my own right—one of handful of women in England of whom that can be said. My old friends and servants usually call me Lady Antonia, but Lady Fairbourne is more correct. Burton hasn’t been with me long and is most dreadfully proper, so he always calls me Lady Fairbourne.”

  “Which do you prefer, your ladyship?”

  “Don’t you dare call me your ladyship, Adam! Or I’ll— I’ll ...” She halted, unable to think of a suitable punishment.

  Adam rose and offered his arm. “Or you’ll what?” he teased.

  “I’ll think of something,” she said darkly.

  “Something wet and slithery, if memory serves me correctly.”

  Antonia squeezed her cousin’s arm, then glanced over to the window seat. “Judith, you will join us?”

  “Are you sure you want me to be playing gooseberry?” her companion asked. “You must have a thousand things to say to one another.”

  Adam looked Judith up and down very carefully. “Not green, not furry. You don’t look in the least like a gooseberry to me.” He offered his other arm. “Do join us, unless you think our reminiscences will be too tedious.”

  Judith laughed as she rose and took his arm. During the leisurely meal that followed, she appreciated Adam Yorke’s efforts to include her in the mealtime conversation. He might adore his cousin, but when he looked at Judith, she felt that he truly saw her and listened seriously to what she said.

  He really was a most attractive man, far more interesting than any of the London gentlemen who had been pursuing Antonia. Even to an observer as partisan as Judith Winslow, it seemed as if Mr. Yorke was good enough for the Baroness Fairbourne.

  A bowl of fruit from the Thornleigh forcing houses was being served when Antonia asked, “By the way, where is your luggage, Adam? Shall I send someone to pick it up at the port?”

  He shook his head. “I’m staying at the Clarendon.”

  Antonia stared at him. “How ridiculous! Of course you’re staying here.”

  “Tony, even with the ferocious chaperonage of Mrs. Winslow, that would be inappropriate.”

  “But you’re family!” She bit her lip, remembering that he now had a life she was not a part of. Adam might consider it rather slow to be staying with his cousin. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t press you. It’s just that I had assumed you would stay with me.”

  “I would like to,” he admitted, “but we are not children anymore, and we are not that nearly related. Besides, there are any number of reaso
ns why too-close association with me would do your reputation no good.”

  Antonia fixed him with a steely glance. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You make too much of something that is of no importance.”

  “I only wish that were true,” Adam murmured.

  Judith watched as the two cousins’ gazes caught and held, feeling the tension between them, as if an old argument were being revived. She wondered what they were talking about, but again, it was none other business.

  “No one would deny that London delights in gossip,” Judith interposed, “but we will be removing to Thornleigh very shortly, and even the highest stickler would not look askance at Mr. Yorke visiting us there.”

  “What a wonderful idea,” Antonia said, sunny again. “I was going to stay in London as long as you were here, Adam, but going to Thornleigh would be better if you could come with us. Surely you can take some time off before returning to work again.”

  Adam hesitated. “I would like to, but a friend of mine, Lord Launceston, returned to England on the same ship. You may recall my mentioning him in letters. Simon is visiting his mother in Kent now, but in a fortnight or so we had tentative plans to take a holiday together, perhaps to the Lake District.”

  “I remember you mentioning his name. Unless Lord Launceston is the sort of gentleman you wouldn’t introduce to a respectable female relation, stop awhile with us. Derbyshire is on your way,” Antonia suggested.

  “Oh, Simon is most presentable, even though he has been out of the country for years. If you’re sure you don’t mind being landed with a stranger, I’ll invite him to Thornleigh.”

  Much, much later, Antonia would look back at this moment in amazement that something begun so casually would have such unforeseen, long-reaching consequences.

  Chapter Two

  The second morning at Thornleigh, Judith knocked on the door of Antonia’s chamber, then entered at her friend’s invitation. Antonia was curled up on a sofa by the window, her knees drawn up with her arms linked around them as she gazed outside.