During dinner, Wyndham once again sat next to her. However, this time, she attempted to engage him in conversation instead of ignoring him like the last time.
It was quite a strained conversation and she wondered whether she'd imagined the closeness they'd forged in the library. The same dark thought rose. Was he now abandoning her and their friendship because he'd managed to steal a kiss from her?
The envy and jealousy and anger merged into a prickly ball of emotion that smashed her insides until she feared blood was seeping through her skin from all the damage done.
The rest of the dinner passed in silence between the two of them. Despondence grew inside her. It was an exact repetition of yesterday's dinner.
And it was precisely what drove her to consume so much drink last night.
She gasped and her knife fell from her hand only to drop onto the floor. The memory of last night came rushing back, like a swollen river dashing away the sandbags stacked to prevent damage to the land.
The confession she made about what she thought about him when she was a girl.
The fact that she still found his looks appealing.
The kiss she bestowed on him.
A footman replaced the knife she'd dropped, placing it on table but she didn't notice for she was focusing on the back of Wyndham's head.
Was that why he kissed her today? Because she'd initiated it last night?
But if he'd wanted to lord it over her, why did he not make mention of it? Why did he pretend he hadn't been a participant in their encounter?
Although he was seated right next to her, it wasn't a conversation she could have with him at the dinner table. She'd have to find a way to get him alone.
She needed to know why he did what he did.
The opportunity came much later when everyone was gathered in the drawing room once again after dinner. She was seated near the windows while everyone was milling about, finding partners for the dances that were to start soon.
A few people had drifted over to inquire about her ankle and chat with her, but by and large, she was left well alone.
Which she preferred.
She told John, the footman that's been assigned to carry her about, to fetch Wyndham and the man approached her reluctantly.
"Good evening, Mr Wyndham. Might I ask why you've been ignoring my attempts to hail you?"
"I know not what you mean."
She huffed. "Please do not try my patience, sir, by lying. You and I know both know you were avoiding me."
He sketched a bow. "My apologies."
"You can make it up to me by answering my next few questions truthfully." She gestured for him to take the empty seat next to her, which he did unenthusiastically.
"Ask away, Miss Kendall."
"Why did you pretend that you weren't present at the events of last night? When I was intoxicated, you were there the entire time."
He was slow to answer and she tried to temper her impatience. Finally, he said dispassionately, "I rather thought you'd like your modesty preserved. Some of the things you did were rather...indecorous."
"That is putting it mildly." She lifted the teacup she'd requested for. "I believe the word is wantonly." At his blank gaze, she pushed aside her humiliation for she wanted the truth from him. "I fully admit that my behaviour was not that of a gentle-bred lady. Now, it is time for you to admit your part in this."
"What would you like me to admit, Miss Kendall?"
"The kiss in the library. Did you only kiss me because of what I did and said to you last night?"
His infinitesimal pause felt like a thousand years to her. "Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"So, if last night hadn't happened at all, the kiss in the library would never have happened?"
"...Yes. This afternoon was an aberration on my part and I sincerely apologise for having caused any sort of confusion on your side. It will not happen again."
She was abjectly disappointed. Had she expected a different answer from him?
Why should she? At nearly every turn, he'd been the one to insist on correctness while she'd wanted otherwise. He'd responded in kind only because she'd been the one to start the chain of events.
He didn't desire her.
He never had.
She was but a convenient foil for his temporary lapse in judgement.
She would do well to remember that.
"Thank you for your honesty, Mr Wyndham. Let me not keep you from tonight's amusements."
Even as Philip leapt and twirled and circled his partners while they were dancing, a part of him was still on the settee, beside Miss Kendall. His heart pinched in memory of the despair he'd seen in her eyes at his answer. Her quiet reply, without all the vivacity he was used to seeing in her, had torn him in two.
It was a necessity to ensure that she wouldn't develop a tendresse for him. Yet, it still pained him to see her in distress.
He'd hoped it still wasn't too late for him to put a stop to her feelings for him, but judging by her reaction, that ship had already sailed.
They certainly made a fine pair. Both of them were on a course that hurtled towards each other but it would only result in a wreck.
Having seen the result of his parents' marriage, he was certain that they would be unhappy together.
The right thing to do would be to withdraw totally and not have any contact with her. But he was helpless in the face of his desire for her. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he only wanted to be near her, regardless of the pain it would cause them both. He was selfish like that. And that selfish part of him revelled in the fact that she desired him.
If he were a lesser man, he'd take advantage of that, consequences be damned. Which he did. This afternoon in the library.
And did it not lead him back full circle to what he knew he should do?
Cursing the impossible situation he found himself in, he knew he could lay the blame on no one but himself. If he were capable of love, he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now.
*˜*˜*˜
15 August 1815
Day 6 of the Torture of being a mess
The early morning mist clung to the grass like a lover who loathed to leave. The wind made the leaves shiver and bodies that were awake huddle deeper into their cloaks, wishing they were near a warm fire.
However, Adelaide relished the chill. It felt like a loving caress across her heated skin. It seemed she was always feeling overly warm these days. She ventured slowly across the fields, not needing to be anywhere in particular. Today's walk was just for her. Even though Wyndham had forbidden it, but she'd needed to get out, even if it were just for a while.
The morning was punctuated by the occasional thrill of bird, or the rustling of the leaves of nearby trees as the wind blew past. In the quiet, she could even hear the singing of a nearby stream.
She breathed in deeply, the cool, crisp morning air a soothing balm against the ache she felt inside her. Although sleep had helped to dull the pain from last night's conversation, there was still a lingering discomfort. It matched the throbbing she felt in her sprained ankle, which seemed to be growing worse with every step she took.
She worried her bottom lip. Maybe she really shouldn't have left the house this morning.
Sitting down on the grass, she massaged her ankle through her boot while gazing at the house. She really hadn't ventured that far. A mile perhaps. It probably was doable after some rest. And a slower speed.
She felt a vibration through her bottom before she heard the sound of hooves striking the ground. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw Diamond's head cresting over the rise.
Happiness at the possibility of asking for assistance from the rider fell away the moment she spotted who it was. The very person who expressly told her to reduce the use of her foot.
She quickly turned to face the manor, hoping he would pass her by without stopping. But of course, she was out of luck.
"Miss Kendall?" She turned to her right, straining her neck to look at his face.
"Good morning, Mr Wyndham. I see you're enjoying another morning ride with Diamond. How was it?"
He ignored her question and dismounted from his horse to crouch down next to her. "What are you doing out here? Did I not explicitly tell you not to walk?"
Her abused pride bristled at his brusque tone. "I'm not walking. I'm sitting."
"You're sitting far from the house. And unless the house grew legs and deposited you here and then returned to its original place, you walked here."
"Someone helped me."
"And who might that person be? I do not see anyone about."
"He has returned back to the house."
"And left you here alone?" His tone was incredulous and she knew she didn't fool him. But she couldn't allow him to be right yet again. Her pride at being rejected repeatedly didn't allow her to give in to him willing.
"Yes."
"If I were to believe your account of events...that you were helped a mile away from the house and left alone for...how long?"
"For a half hour."
"For a half hour...then is this person coming back soon to retrieve you?"
"Retrieve me?" Her outrage flared. "I'm a person, not an object! I do not need to be retrieved!"
"If you were a person, you would have possessed an ounce of sense to know better than to leave the house on your own two feet!"
She shrank slightly in the face of his vehemence. "Why are you shouting at me?"
"I'm not!" He let out a breath and tried to gentle his tone. "I'm not."
"Are you angry?"
"Why would I be angry?" His hand tightened on his riding crop. "You have demonstrated great sense to be helped out of the house instead of walking. There is no need for me to be angry."
"You are angry." An awareness wormed its way into her mind. And she knew why.
"I really am not."
"You're angry because you care that I'm outside when I shouldn't be."
He closed his eyes, pinching his nose bridge with his thumb and fingers. "Yes, of course I care about that. I know the problems an overly taxed sprained ankle can bring."
"So you care about me."
He stared at her, and she saw wariness creep into his grey eyes. "Yes...but in a way that a doctor cares for his patient."
"Does a doctor kiss his patients too?"
He stilled. "I thought we've established last night that it was a mistake."
She leaned forward experimentally. He drew back — as she'd expected — but she cheered inside when she saw his gaze drop to her lips, and his parted slightly.
He wasn't as unaffected by his 'mistake'. Contrary to his words, he wanted her.
"Yes, we have." She placed her hand on his arm nearest to her and noting the slight tensing. Buoyed by this discovery, she smiled. "Will you help me up?"
He grasped her hand and they stood together. She wobbled slightly and his arm came around her waist to support her.
Glancing up at him, she saw his eyes darken to the colour of storm clouds. Little bristles dotted his jaw as if he hadn't shaved for the morning. She wondered how they'd feel against her bare skin.
"Careful now." She felt his whispered words more than she heard them. It'd be so easy now, to give him another kiss.
But she couldn't. She wasn't brave enough. So she did the next best thing. "Thank you for rescuing me again, good Perseus."
He blinked as if waking from slumber. "It was my pleasure." His voice was low and it churned her insides.
"I believe I shall need your continued assistance to get home. Shall we?"
"Of course. Wait here." And he let go of her to fetch Diamond who had wandered away to graze. "You will have to sit on Diamond so as not tax your ankle." His hands curled around her waist, his hands large enough that they nearly spanned the length of her, and lifted her sideways onto the saddle.
When he walked to the front of the horse, she chimed, "Will you not sit with me?"
He looked up at her and shook his head. "It is not a far walk. You can take the reins. I will follow beside you." He started ahead and she was left with no choice but to manage without him.
Later in her room after breakfast, she thought to distract herself of thoughts of Wyndham by reading. But she didn't get far. After every few paragraphs, the image of him would appear in her mind and she'd start to daydream about him. Then she would realised what was happening and try to resume her place in the book.
But the cycle kept repeating itself and so she finally gave up. She stared out the window, book forgotten in her lap. She was torn — her desire for him pulled her towards him yet logic demanded that she stay away.
She knew she shouldn't settle for a man who repeatedly claim that he was incapable of loving her. She hadn't found any indication that he was actually unable to, so she couldn't naysay him although she thought it an impossibility.
Yet she knew they desired each other.
But lust couldn't turn into love...could it? Unfortunately, her education in the hands of her governess and the finishing school had not equipped her with the knowledge to handle such situations.
It is as if they expected women to know instinctively what to do.
Letting out a sigh, she leaned back against her chair and stared up at the ceiling.
Should she do as logic demanded of her and stop with her obsession of him — for what else could it be but an obsession at this point, since he was on her mind all the time?
Or should she follow what her heart and body wanted? To luxuriate in the feeling of being in his arms. To kiss him again and again. To fornicate with him.
The last thought made her breasts tingle and a low heat spread between her legs.
She pressed them together, remembering the naughty French book she'd stumbled upon in the library just yesterday, before he arrived. Why it was in the library, she was happy to not ponder too much about the reasons.
But the illustrations in that slim volume had imprinted many carnal images inside her head. And after he'd kissed her in the library, the one that Harriet and Wyndham had laughed about was all she could think about.
Now she felt as if she'd opened Pandora's Box and couldn't shut its lid on her lust for it was all she could think about.
She rubbed her chest in a bid to ease the aching thrum of desire.
Would she ever be able to find another man who made her ache as he did? Would she care to?
And if she were to so decide that she wouldn't want to marry, what was to become of all this lust she felt?
Would she be able to persuade him to lie with her and reassure him that they need not marry? Being brought up a gentleman, she knew he would do the right thing.
Did she want him to?
Would he see it as her trapping him into marriage?
She rubbed the sides of her head. All these questions were making her head ache.
And these questions were superfluous in any case. She was never going to have the courage enough to truly act on her desire for him. That morning was proof enough.
Not unless she was inebriated.
She smiled wistfully at her hazy memory even as she felt the pricks of tears in her eyes. At the knock on her door, she blinked rapidly, willing them away before bidding the person to enter and was surprised to see Frederica enter. "Oh, Frederica, why have you come?"
"To see you." Her friend sat beside on the window seat. "You were oddly quiet at breakfast just now."
Knowing that she couldn't lie to Frederica, she poured out the questions in her heart.
"What should I do, Frederica? I'm torn about the entire situation. Should I be content with what had already happened? Or should I try to persuade Wyndham otherwise? Or come to terms with the fact that he never was mine and never will be?"
She didn't like the pitying look in her friend's eyes. "Maybe you should talk to him."
"I can't. He has already given enough indication as to his feelings towards me. My pride will not be able to take another rejection. I probably just have to accept the fact that Wyndham and I will not be. The sooner I can come to terms with this fact, the better off I would be."
The tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks as she said the last sentence. But first, she would let herself mourn her broken heart.