The Illegitimate Montague

Never before had a man affected her in this way. Many had tried to woo her—after all, she owned a lucrative business—but she had no desire to share her hard-won wealth or her bed with any of them. Now, at seven-and-twenty, she considered herself to be beyond the age of love. What she felt for Adam must be infatuation. She had observed it in others, including her own father. He had become besotted by a beautiful young woman and had made a complete fool of himself, installing her in a house in Hatherton, showering her with gifts and neglecting both Amber and his business while he followed the young beauty around like a lovesick puppy. At last, when the young woman had left the area, taking with her a good portion of John Ripley’s fortune, he had begged Amber’s forgiveness, telling her how very lonely he had been since her mother’s death.

Amber had forgiven him, but she could never forget how close they had come to losing everything—only her timely marriage to Bernard Hall had secured the extra funding the business needed to continue, but at what a cost. It had taken all her strength to survive her marriage, and Bernard’s early death had been a relief. She had then been able to advise her father on the best way to progress, rebuilding Ripley and Hall into a thriving business. Since his death she had controlled her own fortune, made her own decisions, and that was the way she wanted it to remain. She would never allow anyone to have power over her again.

Adam returned from Castonbury to find the lodge swept out and the bed made up. A search of the outhouses uncovered a good supply of logs and a little coal, so he was able to build up a cheerful fire, which he left burning while he rode off to dine with his mother. He reached the Castonbury stables just as another rider was dismounting from a huge black horse. Adam recognised the tall, dark-haired figure immediately as Giles Montague and touched his hat.

‘Your servant, my lord.’

Giles scowled up at him.

‘Mighty formal all of a sudden, Stratton. That’s not the form of address I expect from a man I’ve known all my life!’

Adam grinned, reassured by the other’s curt greeting. He slid easily to the ground and handed Bosun’s reins to a waiting stable boy.

‘I was not certain of my reception.’

‘Quite right,’ said Giles, the gleam in his grey eyes belying his scowl. ‘Ten years without a word to anyone. You should be flogged!’

‘I agree with you, and I beg your pardon,’ said Adam, as they walked out of the yard together. ‘I should have kept in touch.’

‘That is nothing to me, I have never been one for letter-writing either, but I know your mother felt your loss deeply. Are you here to visit her?’

‘Yes, I am joining her for dinner.’

‘Hah! The prodigal returns so the fatted calf must be slaughtered, am I right?’

‘No, no, it is merely mutton stew, I believe,’ returned Adam mildly.

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