Page 35 of Feathers in the Wind
Robin waved the missive. ‘I believe he is with the queen. She landed in Yorkshire some weeks ago and is on her way south to Oxford.’
Adam took a sharp intake of breath. ‘The queen? Are you certain? That means Louise is back in the country.’ As soon as Louise had Denzil’s ear, he would be a dead man. ‘Even more reason to see this letter delivered, Rob.’
‘But I’m supposed to be guarding you,’ Robin pointed out. ‘I can’t do that if I’m gallivanting off around the countryside, delivering your mail.’
‘Robin.’ Adam smiled and held out his hands. ‘Look at me, I can barely walk, let alone make a bid for freedom. I gave Denzil my parole and I intend to honour it.’
Robin raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Very well, I’ll do this boon for you, but you better be here when I get back.’
‘I will be. Thank you, Rob.’
From his window, Adam leaned against the casement and watched Robin ride away. He jerked around as the door opened with a faint click and Joan entered, carrying a leather folio and a pile of clothes, which she set down on the chest.
‘I thought you would prefer your own clothes,’ she said. ‘Robin’s taste is somewhat more flamboyant than yours.’
Adam plucked at the slashed sleeves and gilt lace of the blue jacket he wore. ‘Not quite my taste.’
He took off the borrowed jacket, replaced it with his own serviceable uniform jacket and limped back to his chair, easing his leg back on to the stool. Behind him, Joan folded the discarded jacket and laid it on the bed. When she was done, she joined him, setting out some sketches from the folio on the table.
‘I want to know what you think of these,’ she said. ‘I intend the painting as a wedding present for Simon and Perdita.’
Adam picked up the preliminary sketches of a man and woman. Even drawn roughly in charcoal he could see without hesitation that she had drawn Simon Clifford standing behind a seated Perdita, his hand resting on her shoulder. A traditional pose but his heart clenched at the proprietary gesture. Perdita Gray would be Perdita Clifford by the end of the year.
‘You do have a wonderful talent,’ he said.
‘So do you,’ Joan said.
He looked up at the sharp edge to her tone. ‘What do you mean?’
Joan considered her drawing for a long moment, her finger resting on the still representation of Perdita. ‘I have no trouble in capturing Simon but Perdita has an elusive quality.’ Joan held out a folded, creased paper and spread it before him. ‘I found this in Robin’s jacket just now. This is your work?’
Adam looked down at the sketch he had done of Perdita. He had forgotten to retrieve it before he changed his jacket. His breath caught and he said between tight lips. ‘I was just—’
‘Adam, this is how Perdita should look for the man she loves and that man is not Simon.’
Adam crumpled the paper in his hand but he refrained from tossing it into the fireplace again. ‘What is the point in lying to you Joan when you know me so well?’
She cocked her head to one side, her mouth drooping as she laid her hand over his.
‘Is it your fate to always fall for women who belong to other men?’
He gave a bitter laugh, ‘Apparently it is.’
‘Does she know how you feel?’
Adam met his aunt’s eyes, horrified at the thought. ‘I hope not.’
‘What are you going to do?’
He extricated his hand from hers and shrugged. ‘Do? What can I do? I have nothing to offer her. Simon Clifford is a good man and he deserves her and she him. I genuinely wish them both happiness.’
Joan brushed a tear from her eye and he leaned forward taking her hands in his.
‘It is my intention to be gone from here within days and, God willing, Perdita will marry her Simon at Christmas without further thought of me. There is no more to be said on the subject.’
* * *
A relapseof fever kept Adam to his bed for the next couple of days with Ludovic in attendance. Not wishing a repeat of their last, troubling conversation, Perdita busied herself with other domestic duties.
