Miss Hastings' Excellent London Adventure (Brazen Brides Book 4)(51)
He squeezed her hand, and she thought her heart would explode. "As much as I wish it, you know that our daytime contact will soon be coming to an end." Adam must be mimicking her supposed playacting.
As soon as the situation with her uncle's death was resolved, Adam would never again spend his days with her. Was the most exciting part of her life to be over when she reached one-and-twenty? It was a bitter thought.
* * *
As much as he enjoyed sharing the coach with Lady Sophia and William, he was happy when they ran out of topics to discuss, and a peaceful lull settled over them. Lady Sophia finally succumbed to the involuntary closing of her lids, put her head on William's shoulder, and went to sleep with her husband's arm around her.
Adam felt strangely compelled to place his arm around Emma again. How could such a small female overpower a big fellow like him with such a surge of emotions? Since the moment of their meeting, he'd felt the need to take care of her. But now those feelings of serving as her protector dominated him like he'd once been dominated by Maria's sensuousness.
Yet when he held Emma's slim body close, he had come to desire her in the same way he'd desired Maria—yet it was entirely different.
Whatever he'd felt for Maria had been purely physical. What he felt for Emma was pure. One's wife was a completely different creature than one's mistress.
But, of course, he would love Maria for as long as he drew breath. These feelings Emma elicited were merely a response to his craving for Maria.
He tenderly watched as Emma's lids grew heavy. That was all it took. He drew her close and found himself placing soft kisses on top of her head. Soon she was asleep.
Holding her felt so good.
He was the only one in the coach still awake. Afternoon darkened to night, and the wheels of the carriage kept rattling over the North Road, chilled air filling the carriage. He wondered how much longer they would ride. They'd been in the carriage for fourteen hours with only short breaks.
His question was soon answered when their coach pulled alongside of Nick's, and the coachmen exchanged the information that they would stop for the night in the next village which had a suitable inn.
Everyone came awake and sat up straight. He was disappointed to forfeit the feel of his youthful wife in his arms.
In less than ten minutes, their carriage pulled into the innyard. The winds battered the swinging sign for the Golden Fleece. He'd worried that because it was so late, there would be no rooms available but was pleasantly surprised that only two other coaches had arrived before them.
* * *
In her entire twenty years Emma had never before been inside of a coaching inn, but she hardly wanted her companions to know the extent of her inexperience. As it was, she had little opportunity to observe the establishment's public areas. Once Nick's man procured three chambers for "members of the Quality," all them were whisked upstairs to a generous parlor attached to a large corner bedchamber. She quickly saw that they would eat at a table in this room—far away from those of the lower classes who ate and drank in the tavern below.
Because a thatched roof crowned the whitewashed inn, Emma had pictured its rooms as a low-ceilinged rabbit warren, but that was not the case. Though the ceilings were lower than what she was accustomed to, these two rooms were exceptionally large. Sputtering fires in the hearths were already warming the chambers.
Before they could divest themselves of cloaks and hats, two young serving maids brought them ale and a pot of hot tea. The same girls returned with plates, utensils, and hot food before the six of them had taken their seats around the table.
Emma watched as the famished Birmingham brothers attacked their mutton. Everyone was so busy easting, no one spoke the first five minutes of dinner. It had been nearly eight hours since they had last eaten.
Emma gazed into the adjoining bedchamber and froze. Lady Fiona's maid was securing her mistress's fine linens upon the room's big tester bed.
Was it a huge faux pas if a member of the Quality forgot to bring one's own linens? Her stomach sank. She completely lost her appetite. How humiliated she would be in front of her husband when he learned that her incompetence would force them to sleep on inferior bedding. Dear God, what if it wasn't clean? She was mortified.
She fleetingly hoped that her own maid would be seeing to the placement of fresh Birmingham linens upon the bed she and Adam (this thought accompanied by a frenzied fluttering of her heart) would sleep upon. But dear Therese was as much of a novice in the homes of the wealthy as Emma was.
Only when Adam finished his plate did he notice she wasn't touching her food. "Do you not like the food, dear one?"