direction,’ he said wryly.
It was Bridget’s turn to stare at him, and then to draw a deep breath and say, ‘I appreciate your offer, but I’m of a mind to do this on my own.’
He swore under his breath.
‘As for all this,’ she continued, with a sweep of her hand, ‘it’s a bit like a carrot being dangled in front of me.’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that.’ He eyed her narrowly. ‘But I would see it as an apt setting for a girl who’s told me she loves horses, gardening, painting. It could be a landscape painter or a gardener’s dream—and there’s a grand piano in the music room we didn’t get to see, as well as a harp, come to think of it.’
Bridget was silent.
‘You don’t think that would make life enjoyable for you?’ he queried.
She looked around, and had to smile involuntarily as a mare and a frisky young foal wandered up to the fence on the other side of the garden. But she sighed as she said, ‘You don’t understand, do you? Or—and this could be another problem—you’re so used to getting your own way you don’t want to understand how I feel.’
‘I have to admit I would have understood better if you’d jumped at the chance—not so much of marrying me but of getting my money.’
‘Ah. Well, I’m glad I surprised you.’ Her words were accompanied by a lethal little look.
It was his turn to stay silent. Then he pushed his chair back and changed the subject completely. ‘Come and say hello.’ He indicated the foal.
She got up and followed him to the fence. On the way she pulled up a dandelion, which she offered to the foal. The dark bay colt sniffed it, lipped it, then chomped it greedily.
She laughed and rubbed his nose.
Adam Beaumont smiled and turned to lean back against the fence. He said quietly, ‘I’ve had cause to think I should rewrite my life recently.’
Bridget turned to him in some surprise. ‘You have?’
He nodded and stretched his arms along the fence. And then he told her something of his last encounter with his great-uncle Julius.
‘I don’t want his proxies,’ he said. ‘If I do ever get to chair the board of Beaumonts I want to do it on my own. I don’t want anyone ever to be able to say I rode there on my uncle’s coattails. But for the rest—’ he shrugged ‘—it is time to bury the past. Including Marie-Claire.’
Marie-Claire, Bridget thought. Just her name says it all…
‘And I can’t get this bleak little image of ending up on my own like Julius out of my mind,’ he said withobvious frustration. He looked fleetingly wry. ‘Perhaps that’s why we need each other.’
Bridget opened her mouth, but he waved her to silence.
‘I played God that night in the shed,’ he said. ‘I should have known better. I did. But it was a page we wrote together, Bridget. If it’s brought more than you bargained for, the same goes for me. Even so, you obviously don’t feel like tearing it up and throwing it away, and neither do I.’ He paused. ‘Despite everything, there’s a right feeling to it.’
Bridget stared at him with her lips parted.
He had been looking into the blue yonder over her head, but now brought his gaze down to her. ‘I know it’s not a declaration of undying love, but that’s the truth. And, contrary to what you said earlier this morning, I do like you.’ His lips twisted. ‘A lot.’
He reached out and brushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘I don’t like to think of you alone, and even if you have decided it’s your brave new world—and I’m sure it will be that from time to time—it doesn’t need to be.’
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS the sound of a car driving away that broke the spell for Bridget—that long, long moment when she was mesmerised by what he’d said, what he’d admitted, and the impact it had had on her.
‘Who…?’ she whispered.
He looked across at the departing plume of dust on the driveway behind the house. ‘Fay. If we have no dinner guests she takes the afternoon
It was Bridget’s turn to stare at him, and then to draw a deep breath and say, ‘I appreciate your offer, but I’m of a mind to do this on my own.’
He swore under his breath.
‘As for all this,’ she continued, with a sweep of her hand, ‘it’s a bit like a carrot being dangled in front of me.’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that.’ He eyed her narrowly. ‘But I would see it as an apt setting for a girl who’s told me she loves horses, gardening, painting. It could be a landscape painter or a gardener’s dream—and there’s a grand piano in the music room we didn’t get to see, as well as a harp, come to think of it.’
Bridget was silent.
‘You don’t think that would make life enjoyable for you?’ he queried.
She looked around, and had to smile involuntarily as a mare and a frisky young foal wandered up to the fence on the other side of the garden. But she sighed as she said, ‘You don’t understand, do you? Or—and this could be another problem—you’re so used to getting your own way you don’t want to understand how I feel.’
‘I have to admit I would have understood better if you’d jumped at the chance—not so much of marrying me but of getting my money.’
‘Ah. Well, I’m glad I surprised you.’ Her words were accompanied by a lethal little look.
It was his turn to stay silent. Then he pushed his chair back and changed the subject completely. ‘Come and say hello.’ He indicated the foal.
She got up and followed him to the fence. On the way she pulled up a dandelion, which she offered to the foal. The dark bay colt sniffed it, lipped it, then chomped it greedily.
She laughed and rubbed his nose.
Adam Beaumont smiled and turned to lean back against the fence. He said quietly, ‘I’ve had cause to think I should rewrite my life recently.’
Bridget turned to him in some surprise. ‘You have?’
He nodded and stretched his arms along the fence. And then he told her something of his last encounter with his great-uncle Julius.
‘I don’t want his proxies,’ he said. ‘If I do ever get to chair the board of Beaumonts I want to do it on my own. I don’t want anyone ever to be able to say I rode there on my uncle’s coattails. But for the rest—’ he shrugged ‘—it is time to bury the past. Including Marie-Claire.’
Marie-Claire, Bridget thought. Just her name says it all…
‘And I can’t get this bleak little image of ending up on my own like Julius out of my mind,’ he said withobvious frustration. He looked fleetingly wry. ‘Perhaps that’s why we need each other.’
Bridget opened her mouth, but he waved her to silence.
‘I played God that night in the shed,’ he said. ‘I should have known better. I did. But it was a page we wrote together, Bridget. If it’s brought more than you bargained for, the same goes for me. Even so, you obviously don’t feel like tearing it up and throwing it away, and neither do I.’ He paused. ‘Despite everything, there’s a right feeling to it.’
Bridget stared at him with her lips parted.
He had been looking into the blue yonder over her head, but now brought his gaze down to her. ‘I know it’s not a declaration of undying love, but that’s the truth. And, contrary to what you said earlier this morning, I do like you.’ His lips twisted. ‘A lot.’
He reached out and brushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘I don’t like to think of you alone, and even if you have decided it’s your brave new world—and I’m sure it will be that from time to time—it doesn’t need to be.’
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS the sound of a car driving away that broke the spell for Bridget—that long, long moment when she was mesmerised by what he’d said, what he’d admitted, and the impact it had had on her.
‘Who…?’ she whispered.
He looked across at the departing plume of dust on the driveway behind the house. ‘Fay. If we have no dinner guests she takes the afternoon
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