Season Of Secrets. Кэрол Мортимер

in the least plump and inviting. ‘Are you laughing at me, my lord?’

      His top lip curled back derisively in response to that. ‘I believe you will find, Mrs Leighton, that I rarely find reason to laugh at anything, so I very much doubt I will have made you the exception.’ He eyed her closely, no longer sure he had any appetite for the rich and meaty-smelling stew that had been provided for them.

      He had actually been anticipating the evening ahead when he dressed for dinner earlier, could not remember the last time he had dined alone with a beautiful woman—apart from Fanny, whom he had despised utterly, when those rare evenings they had dined at home together had been more a lesson in endurance than something to be enjoyed.

      Just as his grandmother’s dinner the evening before had been something to be endured rather than enjoyed!

      Lady Cecily had totally outdone herself in that she had provided not one, not two, but four eligible young ladies for his approval. All of them young and beautiful—and all of them as empty-headed as Fanny!

      He already knew that Elena Leighton was not of that ilk, that she was educated, learned and that he found her conversation stimulating. As he found her physically stimulating…Except on those occasions when she was determined to rebuke him for what she perceived as his lack of feeling for Amanda!

      ‘Perhaps we should just eat our dinner before it cools any further.’ He didn’t wait for her response, but turned his attention to eating the food in front of him.

      Elena ate her own stew more slowly, aware that she had displeased him. Was he justified to feel that? She was, after all, employed to attend to his daughter, not to comment on his behaviour and attitudes.

      Disconcerted at being summoned to join him for dinner, and the two of them sitting down to eat their meal together alone in this private parlour, she had again forgotten the façade of being the widowed Mrs Elena Leighton and instead talked to him as an equal, forgetting that she no longer had the right to do so.

      If Adam Hawthorne were ever to discover her true identity, then no doubt he would not hesitate to turn her over to the authorities himself!

      She placed her spoon down carefully beside the bowl, her food untouched. ‘I must apologise once again for speaking out of turn, my lord. It is not my place—’

      ‘And exactly what do you consider to be “your place”, Mrs Leighton?’ he rasped irritably as he looked across at her with stormy-grey eyes.

      Elena chewed on her bottom lip before answering, once again disconcerted, this time by the intensity of that deep-grey gaze. ‘Well, it is certainly not to tell you how you should behave towards your own daughter.’

      ‘And yet you have not hesitated to do so.’ She gave a wince. ‘And for that I—’

      ‘Do not apologise to me a second time in as many minutes, Mrs Leighton!’ Adam pushed his chair back noisily as he stood up.

      Elena looked up at him warily as he stood glowering down at her. ‘I did not mean to displease you…’

      ‘No…?’ His expression softened. ‘Then what did you mean to do to me, Mrs Leighton?’

      Elena’s pulse leapt at the sound of that huskiness, the lacing of sensuality she heard underlying his tone, his piercing grey gaze now appearing to be transfixed upon her mouth. Disturbing her with sensations she was unfamiliar with.

      Elena ran the moistness of her tongue nervously across her lips before speaking. ‘I do not believe I had any intent other than to apologise for speaking to you so frankly about what is a private matter.’

      ‘No…?’ He was far too overpowering in the smallness of the room. Too large. Too intense. Too overwhelmingly male!

      She found herself unable to look away from him, her heart seeming to sputter and falter, before commencing to beat a wild tattoo in her chest. A fact he was well aware of, if the shifting of his gaze to the pulse in her throat was any indication. A gaze that slowly moved steadily downwards before then lingering on the ivory swell of her breasts as she continued to breathe shallowly.

      As Miss Magdelena Matthews, she had of course attended assemblies and dinner parties in Yorkshire, as she had many other local social occasions. But her mother had unfortunately died shortly before her coming-out Season two years ago, and her grandfather had not been a man who particularly cared for town or London society, and his visits there had been few and far between, usually only on business or with the intention of attending the House of Lords.

      As a consequence, even following her year of mourning for her mother, her grandfather’s preference for the country meant that Magdelena had spent no time at all in London, and so had not learnt how to recognise or to deal with a gentleman’s attentions. Indeed, Elena’s only experience with a gentleman of the ton was of such a traumatic nature that she had feared ever becoming the focus of a male ever again.

      Except Adam Hawthorne did not incite that same fear within her…

      Rather the opposite.

      The warmth she detected in the grey softness of his gaze, as he continued to watch the rise and fall of her bosom, filled her with unaccustomed heat. Her heart once again fluttered wildly and caused her pulse to do likewise, and her breasts—those same breasts he continued to regard so intently—seemed to swell and grow, the rose-coloured tips tingling with the same unaccustomed heat, making the fitted bodice of her gown feel uncomfortably tight.

      It was an unexpected, and yet exhilarating, sensation, every inch of her skin hot and almost painfully sensitive, and she felt almost light-headed as she continued to shyly meet his gaze through the sweep of her dark lashes.

      Adam had no idea what he was about!

      The fact that he had anticipated enjoying Elena Leighton’s stimulating presence for a few hours, her obvious intelligence and sensitivity, did not mean he had to take their relationship any further than that. Indeed, he would be foolish to ever think of doing so.

      Not only was she a splendid addition to his household, in that she appeared to have already developed a very caring relationship with his young daughter, but she was in his employ. And whilst some of the male members of the ton might feel few qualms in regard to taking advantage of their pretty and young female household staff, Adam had certainly never done so. Not even at the worst moments of his marriage to Fanny had he stooped to seeking comfort or solace from one of the young women working in any of his own households. Nor was it his intention to start now with this one.

      He straightened abruptly. ‘I suggest that we eat the rest of our meal before making an early night of it.’ Adam gave a pained wince as her face became a flushed and fiery red. ‘By that, I meant, of course, that we should then retire to our respective bedchambers.’

      ‘I did not for a moment suppose you meant anything other, my lord,’ she answered sharply.

      Adam pulled his chair out noisily and resumed his seat. ‘Good,’ he growled, more than a little unsettled himself, both by their conversation, and the things which had not been said…

      Thankfully Amanda seemed to have recovered fully the following day as they resumed the last part of their journey, the weather warm enough that Elena had been able to lower the windows and so allow some air into the carriage, and also making it possible for Amanda to poke her head out of the window when she saw something that interested her.

      Lord Hawthorne had been noticeably absent when Elena and Amanda ate their breakfast earlier in the private parlour of the inn and he had again ridden on ahead once they resumed their journey, no doubt anxious to arrive at his estate so that he might begin to deal with whatever business had brought him to Cambridgeshire in the first place.

      Elena sincerely hoped that it had nothing to do with his wishing to avoid her own outspoken company.

      She had woken early this morning to the sounds of certain other inhabitants of the inn already being awake: the grooms chatting outside in the cobbled yard as they fed the horses prior to travel and the sounds of food being