Chapter 4 #2
She seemed to put enormous effort into forming her response, to speak clearly and succinctly and not shrink before his tone. “No, but I would like to speak with the Ripleys. Or I could send a message, if someone is going that way.”
He leaned a shoulder against the door frame. “No one is going, at least not that I know of.” Jacob had already traveled there and back the previous day to deliver Adam’s letter to his solicitor in London.
“Well, if no one is going,” Madeline replied, “I would like to take a horse myself.”
She raised her chin again, almost daring him to say no, and he found himself oddly impressed by her tenacity.
Nonetheless, there was no way on God’s green earth that he would let her ride out into the wilderness alone. “I couldn’t let you do that.”
“Why not? I could find my way. I’m quite sure I remember the road.”
He backed away from her, then lifted another sack of seed onto his shoulder. “‘Quite sure’ isn’t good enough. Some of the paths can be obscure. I’d have to take you myself, but as you can see, I’m busy.” He tossed the seed onto the back of the wagon, and Madeline jumped at the loud smack.
“Then tell me when.”
“How about the day after tomorrow?” He went for another sack.
She said nothing, and he had the distinct impression that his answer wasn’t the one she was looking for. Then he felt the heat of her determined gaze, watching him pick up the bag of seed and carry it to the wagon.
“I’d like to go sooner,” she said.
He dropped the sack onto the pile, then crossed toward her and leaned against the door frame again. He rubbed a thumb along his stubbly jawline. “What’s the hurry?”
“I wish to see about working for the Ripleys.”
Distracted briefly by the wind lifting the wispy curls that had escaped Madeline’s hairpins and now hung loosely about her shoulders, Adam tried not to let his gaze wander downward, for that would lead his eyes to her neckline.
He felt uncomfortable with his awareness of her neckline all of a sudden—and the fact that he was curious about it, for he should not be noticing anything like that in this young woman, whom he had known as a child.
He labored to bring his attention back to where it should be: on the situation at hand and her question about leaving to work for the Ripleys. What should he do?
He had already sent his proposal to Diana, who—if fate was kind to him this time—would arrive before the fall harvest. What would she say if she knew he had not at least attempted to keep her baby sister safe in his home?
“There is no need for you to leave and work for the Ripleys.” He did his best to sound hospitable and not quite so ogre-like. “You are more than welcome to stay here with us as long as you wish.”
“Thank you, but no.”
“No?”
“No.”
Lord help him, she was like a brick wall. “Miss Oxley, you are in a strange land. I apologize for the way things were between us yesterday, but that is no reason to be stubborn about—”
“I’m not being stubborn. I only wish to make my own way here.”
Knowing he’d insulted her, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please let me begin again. Your plans have been hampered, and it is partly my fault that you are here.”
She blinked a few times. “Partly your fault? Yesterday, this was all my fault for not having a mind of my own.”
He deserved that, he knew, so he raised his hands in mock surrender. “You have a point, and I am very sorry.”
He suddenly felt inarticulate and flustered talking to her—this child who used to follow him and Diana around like a lost puppy. Lord, how things had changed. He didn’t feel as though he was talking to a lost puppy now.
“Why don’t you wish to stay?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation into gentler waters. “If you want to earn your way, I could always hire you as a governess myself.”
“I don’t want a charity position.”
“It would not be charity. Penelope and Charlie both need more than what Mrs. Dalton can give them. I’ve been considering hiring someone for quite some time, in fact…” He was rambling now.
Madeline shook her head. “I’m sorry, I cannot.”
“Why ever not?”
After a long pause, she gave a frustrated sigh as if he were forcing her to reveal more than she wished. “Because if Diana accepts your proposal and comes here to marry you, I would rather be elsewhere.”
Adam gazed at her drawn expression and the way she was pursing her full lips. He hadn’t expected Diana to be the reason Madeline would not wish to stay. “Are there problems between the two of you? A rift of some sort?”
“No, I simply do not wish to be dependent upon her.”
He rested his hands on his hips. “I understand that you wouldn’t want to be in the position of servant to your sister, but it wouldn’t be that way. You would be a member of the family.”
Their conversation stopped dead while they stood in the barn doorway, staring at each other. She seemed unable to think of a rebuttal.
For a second or two, Adam thought he had managed to persuade her, then she pressed her shoulders back and spoke more firmly.
“Thank you for the kind offer, but I would prefer to be on my own. I would like to go to the fort tomorrow.”
In the end, he said yes—but only because he knew there was no point in arguing, for she was not going to give in. Then he watched her turn away from him and walk back to the house.
Once again he saw the young Yorkshire lass who had never let anyone tell her what she could and could not do. Back in those days, that willfulness had frustrated him when he’d wanted to be alone with Diana, just as it frustrated him now, when he wanted to keep Madeline here, safe in his care.
Something was different today, however. Adam could feel himself warming to her, for she was no longer the child she once was. She had become a woman, and he found himself admiring her for, of all things, knowing her own mind and settling for nothing less than what she wanted.