‘I used to.’
‘Why?’
‘It was a sanctuary.’
Stepping inside, she saw it was bigger than she had thought. A four-poster sat in one corner of the room, heavy brocade curtains hiding it from view. Apart from the bed there were only two chairs placed before the empty grate of a large fireplace.
‘I haven’t ever brought another person here. You are the first.’ The words seemed wrung from him, as if he hadn’t wished to say them. ‘But then I have not been married before, either.’ He smiled.
‘Not even close?’
He shook his head. ‘Why did you agree to this union , Adelaide? Really?’
A different question from the one she thought he might have asked. ‘Perhaps I liked you, too. To talk with.’
The light behind picked up the depths of brown in his hair and the strength of his body, but dulled his features. Like an ancient oil painting etched in shadow.
‘Did you ever wonder, Lord Wesley, exactly where your place was in the world, what your purpose was, and your truth?’
‘I did once. Now...’ He let the thought linger and frowned. As she waited for an answer he dredged one up. ‘Now I am not so certain.’
‘The house, you mean, with the fire and the burning?’
He moved back. ‘Not so much that, exactly. If it is rebuilt, it is and if it’s not, then...’
‘You wouldn’t care?’
‘Less so than I had imagined.’
‘At least you have a home, though. Mine was sold when my parents died.’
‘So you moved in with your uncle in Sherborne?’
‘Not immediately. At first my grandmother took me in, but when she passed away I became wary of...’
‘Of life, and of trust.’
He finished the thought for her and she nodded, liking that he understood so clearly. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes.’ He did not stop to give his reply a second thought.
After that there was silence and Adelaide had the distinct impression that he wished he had not said so much. But something in her had been released by their honesty and she could not let it just stop there.
‘Betrayal can have the same sort of effect, I think.’ She spoke carefully, gauging his interest. From the sudden stillness she knew he was listening. ‘When I was sixteen I was...attacked.’
He turned to face her directly. ‘How?’
His concern was warm and real, no hesitation in it or reluctance. If she stepped forward she would be right within his arms. Safe.
‘A boy...I knew...tried to...’ The words were harder to say than she might have imagined. She had ceased to blame herself for Kenneth Davis’s actions years before, but still... ‘He tried...to rape me.’
She was against his body before she knew it, close in, his arms about her and his fingers stroking her hair. She could smell sandalwood and leather upon him, his more normal caution replaced by fury.
‘Is he still alive?’
‘Yes, but his father sent him abroad afterwards and I did not see him again.’
‘And your uncle?’
‘Never knew.’
Another expletive, this time softer. ‘Who did know?’
‘My aunts. They said I needed to...forget it...to get over it...to go on...’
‘Tell me his name and I will kill him for you.’
At that she laughed because at the time she had desired nothing more than Kenneth Davis’s demise in a horrible and slow way.
‘I hated him for a good five or so years and then one day I saw that such a loathing was hurting even more than the scratches and bruises and fright he had left me with. So I forgave him, just like that. There is a power in mercy that allows one the will to live again, I think, a force that nullifies the endless wrath. At least it was so with me.’
She could hear his heartbeat through the thin layer of his shirt, the beat slowing to a more even rhythm. His breathing, too, was deeper as long fingers wound into the hair at her nape, the sun rising over the far-off hills bright today and with more than a hint of the warmth to come.
‘I would never hurt you, Adelaide. I hope that you at least believe that.’
‘I do.’
* * *
His awareness of her this time was tempered by anger. She had been hurt and he could help, the shock of betrayal binding them, like iron filings to a magnet, cleaved together by pain.
His wife was a much better person than he was. After the fire both anger and gall had leached the life from his soul and he had not wanted to offer clemency to anyone.
But here, now, for the first time in six months, he felt he was not made of thin glass ready to shatter and splinter under the pressure of emotion or touch.
He had also not thought of his own impotence for all of the last five moments, the ever-consuming sadness and rage diminished by the quiet trust her confession had allowed him.
He wondered then how she would view any sexual intimacy given the horror of her attack. His celibacy had been forced upon him, but perhaps hers had been, too. He closed his eyes against the measure of terror the sixteen-year-old Adelaide must have felt.
Who had been on her side, hunting out the offender and punishing him? Who had understood her anger and her shame and gone out into the world to diminish it?
Nobody.
She had been as alone as he was with her old unwise aunts and an uncle who seemed to barely know her.
If he ever had a daughter, he would make certain that she knew exactly who to turn to, he promised that he would. The thought caught him unawares and he stiffened.
A daughter.
God.
He had never wanted a wife until now and here he was conjuring up a whole damned family.
An impotent husband does not a father make.
Uncurling his hands, he stepped back, pasting a smile across regret and hoping Adelaide had not seen it.
* * *
He was back to looking furious again, she thought, as he let her go, and her cheeks burnt with the memory of all she had blurted out.
She had not meant to tell anyone, ever, but in the small cottage beside the ruins of his house Gabriel Hughes had looked so damn strong and solid that it had just flowed out, the cork unstopped and years of enforced silence broken.
Making fists of her hands, she tried to find a return to the inconsequential. But it was all so hard.
She liked him.
She did.
She liked every single thing about Gabriel Hughes. His eyes. His body. His voice. His hands. His stillness. His danger. His distance.
He was still hiding things, she knew that, too. She could see it in his eyes and in his stance and in the way he looked at her sometimes as though the truth lay through a gossamer-thin layer of falsity and he wanted her to know it.
But not just yet.
This was their honeymoon and for now they were skirting around each other, two damaged souls struggling to make sense of things that should never have happened.
Her world had been torn into small chunks of truth that were falling through the air to find a new earthly pattern, locked together before God and the law. Like one of the jigsaws her Aunt Josephine loved, hundreds of pieces, all only waiting to be fitted to form one perfect and complete whole.
Adelaide smiled. She was not perfect and neither was Gabriel Hughes, but together they could be. She at least had to be certain of that. When he turned away to walk out into the sunshine she followed him.
They picked their way towards the Manor, past the ruined walls and blackened timber and then climbing to a higher stand of stone with a platform behind, the pasture studded in clover and daisies.
‘This is where I will rebuild at first, out of the wind and with a view across the valley. It will be a smaller house this time, but built on rock.’
‘Like the parable in the Bible from Matthew?’
He smiled as though her words held a truth. ‘Then the question is, I suppose, am I a wise man or a foolish one?
In answer she simply stamped her feet on the thick bed of stone. The sound travelled around the clearing in an echo.
‘It’s a beautiful view. Swansdowne, my childhood home, had the same sort of vistas. I remember the river and the trees.’ She swept her hand in front of her, indicating the line of oaks along the drive and the lake. ‘London holds no real charm against the beauty of the countryside.’
‘Amethyst Wylde says the same thing. It’s why she seldom ventures down to the city.’
‘How did you meet them, the Wyldes, I mean?’
He stooped to pick a sheath of grass and his fingers peeled off the many husks of seed as he spoke. ‘Daniel and I were at school together, but it was only later that I got to know him properly. He enjoys horse racing and so did I and we spent a lot of time pitting our skills against each other. He knows horses like the back of his hand.’
‘And you?’
‘I used to, but it’s been a while since I spent a great deal of time upon one.’
‘Teach me to ride properly, then, so that I may see the lands of Ravenshill from a horse without being in danger of falling off.’
He was laughing as a shout from behind made him turn. A man whom she did not recognise walked towards them.
‘Wesley. I thought it was you.’ His smile was wide and generous as Gabriel put out his hand.
‘Alexander Watkins, may I introduce you to my new wife, Lady Adelaide Wesley. Alex is a neighbour and an old friend.’
The newcomer smiled. ‘’Tis a pleasure, my lady. My property borders this one to the east and my own wife will be more than interested to know I have met you. If you would like to visit, we would be more than pleased for the company.’ His eyes swept over the vista of the ruined Manor. ‘Will you repair it, Gabe?’