Season Of Secrets: Not Just a Seduction

‘Yes?’

She bit her lip. ‘I had thought to be wearing serviceable browns, with possibly a beige gown in which to attend church on Sundays.’

Adam gave a wince at the thought of this woman’s ivory skin against such unbecoming shades. ‘That would not do at all, Mrs Leighton.’ His top lip curled with displeasure. ‘Brighter colours, a deep rose, blues and greens, are more suited to your colouring, with perhaps a cream for Sundays.’

Exactly the colours, Elena realised, that the plump Mrs Hepworth had just laid out for her approval.

‘And I am not a churchgoer,’ Adam continued drily, ‘but you may attend if you feel so inclined.’

‘But is it not your duty to attend as—?’ Elena broke off abruptly, aware she had once again almost been inappropriately outspoken in this man’s presence. Inappropriate for the widowed Mrs Elena Leighton, that was. Which, considering she had not set sight on, nor heard sound of Adam Hawthorne these past two days, she probably should not have done.

‘You were saying, madam?’

‘Nothing, my lord.’ It really was not her place to rebuke him for not attending church, even if she knew her grandfather had made it his habit to always attend the Sunday service. Not because he was particularly religious, but because he maintained that conversation afterwards was the best way to mingle with and learn about the people who lived and worked on his estate.

‘This reticence is not what I have come to expect from you, Mrs Leighton,’ he drawled mockingly.

‘No. Well…’ She pursed her lips as she thought of the past two days, the time that had elapsed since she had last irritated him with her outspokenness. ‘Perhaps I am finally learning to practise long-overdue caution in my conversations with you, my lord.’

Adam stared at her in astonishment for several seconds before he suddenly burst out laughing. A low and rusty sound, he acknowledged self-derisively, but it was, none the less, laughter. ‘Did you tend to be this outspoken when you were employed by the Bamburys?’ He continued to smile ruefully.

‘I do not understand.’

Adam knew Lord Geoffrey Bambury slightly, from their occasional clashes in the House in the past, and knew him as a man who believed totally in the superiority of the hierarchy that made up much of society; as such Adam did not see him as a man who would suffer being rebuked by a servant, which the other man would most certainly have considered Elena Leighton’s role to be in his own household.

He shrugged. ‘I merely wondered if I was the exception to the rule as the recipient of this…honesty of yours, or if it is your usual habit to say exactly what is on your mind?’

‘Oh, I do not believe I would go as far as to say I have done that, my lord—oh.’ She grimaced. ‘I meant, of course—’

‘I believe I may guess what you meant, Mrs Leighton,’ Adam said. ‘And as such, I should probably applaud your efforts at exercising some discretion, at least.’

‘Yes. Well.’ Those blue-green eyes avoided meeting his amused gaze.

‘You were about to tell me my religious duty, I believe?’ he prompted softly.

Too softly, in Elena’s opinion; she really did seem to have adopted the habit of speaking above her present station in life to this particular gentleman! Perhaps, on this occasion because she was still slightly disconcerted by the sound and sight of his laughter a few minutes ago…

He had informed her only three evenings ago that he found very little amusement in anything, and yet just now he had laughed outright. Even more startling was how much more handsome, almost boyish, he appeared when he gave in to that laughter.

She swallowed before speaking. ‘Of course I was not, my lord. I just—I merely wondered if attending the local church would not be of real benefit to you, in terms of meeting and talking with the people living on your estate and the local village?’

‘Indeed?’ The suddenly steely edge to his tone was unmistakable.

Elena felt the colour warming Her cheeks. ‘Yes. I—I only remark upon it because I know it was Lord Bambury’s habit to do so.’ Her grandfather and Lord Bambury had discussed that very subject over dinner one evening at Sheffield Park…

Adam raised dark brows over cold grey eyes. ‘And you are suggesting I might follow his example?’

Her cheeks burned at his icy derision. ‘Perhaps we should return to the subject of the materials for my uniform, my lord?’

‘What uniform?’ He looked at her blankly.

Elena’s eyes widened. ‘Did you not say two days ago that it was your wish for me to wear a uniform whilst I am attending Amanda?’

He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘I do not recall ever using the word “uniform” when I made the request for you to wear less sombre clothing in future.’

‘But—’ Elena frowned, thinking back to that conversation when they had arrived at Hawthorne Hall. ‘I assumed…’

He gave a tight smile. ‘It is never wise to make assumptions, Mrs Leighton.’

When it concerned this gentleman, obviously not. ‘So it was your intention all along to supply me with new, prettier gowns, rather than simply a uniform?’

‘Yes.’ There was no mistaking the challenge in his monosyllabic reply.

Elena drew in a sharp breath. ‘And is this—would this be your way of—of circumventing my earlier objections about this matter?’

‘It would, yes.’

Elena clenched her fists tightly to rein in her frustration as Adam Hawthorne continued to look up at her calmly, one eyebrow raised in mocking—and infuriating!—query. ‘In that case…perhaps I might ask something of you in return?’

That dark brow rose even higher. ‘In return for what, madam?’

‘In return for my making no further objections to the procuring of new gowns for me to wear.’ In truth, Elena’s heart had leapt in excitement earlier just at sight of those wonderful colours and delicious fabrics. True, she should out of respect for the recent death of her grandfather insist upon retaining her mourning clothes, but having already worn black for her mother for half a year, and then greys and dull purple for the rest of the year, with only a matter of months to enjoy wearing brighter colours, her youth and vivacity now chafed at thoughts of having to wear the sombre clothing any longer. Especially when she thought of those beautiful coloured silks and exquisite lace draped on the chaise in her bedchamber…

‘In return for?’ Adam felt incredulous. ‘You make it sound as if you are the one doing me a service rather than the other way about?’

She arched a dark brow. ‘And am I not?’

Adam’s lids narrowed. Could this young woman possibly know how much he wished to see her in something other than those unbecoming black gowns she habitually wore? Or preferably in nothing at all!

He drew in a sharp breath. ‘You are being presumptuous again, madam.’

‘If that is so, then I apologise.’ She looked flustered again. ‘I am merely—I only wished to—’ She broke off to gather herself and tried again, more calmly. ‘Several days ago you asked for my help, for suggestions in how you might deal better with your daughter. It is Amanda’s dearest wish to own her own pony and to learn to ride it, my lord.’

Adam stared at her, not sure that he had heard her correctly. Not sure he had ever met anyone quite like Elena Leighton before. ‘Let me see if I understood your terms correctly?’ he spoke slowly. ‘You are willing to accept the new gowns, without fuss, if I agree to buying Amanda a pony and allowing her to learn to ride?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Adam looked perplexed as he sat forwards. ‘But did you not just say exactly that?’

Elena’s chin rose determinedly. ‘I did say that it is Amanda’s dearest wish to own her own pony and learn to ride, yes. It is also my suggestion that you should be the one to teach her.’ The idea had come to her after those days of travelling into Cambridgeshire, when she had noticed that Amanda seemed the most attentive to the scenery outside when there were horses to be seen grazing in the fields. Several minutes’ casual conversation with her charge had revealed Amanda’s deep love of equines and her secret yearning to own a horse or pony of her own so that she might learn to ride.

The second part of Elena’s suggestion—an inspired one, she had thought!—arose from her conversation with her employer in which he had asked for her help in finding ways of taking more of an interest in his young daughter’s life. The stunned look on his face now would seem to suggest he had not meant that request to be taken quite so literally as this! ‘Would it not be a perfect way for you to spend more time with Amanda, whilst also doing something she would enjoy?’

Adam was starting to wonder if he had not seriously underestimated this young woman, if he had not been fooled, both by her widow’s weeds and her demur demeanour during those first few days in his employ, into thinking that she was both complacent and obliging.

Their last few conversations together had revealed her as being neither of those things!

He stood up to move around the desk until he was able to lean back against it, knowing a certain inner satisfaction as he noted her discomfort at his proximity. At the same time as he recognised, and appreciated, the way in which she remained standing exactly where she was, despite that discomfort, as testament to her spirited nature. ‘Do you ride yourself, Mrs Leighton?’