"You might say our courtship was rather unusual," the earl admitted. "She doused me with brandy and tried to stake me. It's that Van Helsing blood. Rather a violent lot," he teased his wife, his blue eyes sparkling.
Jane snorted, and Asher's chuckle turned into a heartfelt laugh. Eve giggled.
"And I thought our courtship was strange," Adam remarked thoughtfully.
"How?" Lady Jane asked.
Taking a chance, Eve replied, "Adam can be so elusive. At times I felt I was being wooed by an invisible man."
She didn't have long to wait for Adam's reaction. He looked stunned, then barked out a laugh. Glancing at the earl, he remarked, "The little admiral likes to run a tight ship."
"Have to, in a lunatic asylum," Asher said.
"Quite so," Adam agreed.
Suddenly Lady Jane dropped her fan, her attention caught by something along one of Vauxhall's many scattered pathways. Eve and the rest turned to see.
"Why, it's Frederick," Eve said, watching as Frederick Frankenstein loped up to a tall woman with an extremely complex hairdo. She was rather attractive, with remarkably large, expressive gray eyes. The lady was with three female companions, and was surrounded by young bucks. Apparently she was enjoying her conversation with the young men. She was unaware of the monster who was hurtling her way, his greenish skin touched by pink.
"I do hope Frederick slows down. He can be so clumsy when besotted, and besotted he is!" Lady Jane worried. "I only wish I knew more about Miss Beal. She appears nice enough, however. Her father is the Marquess of Cleese."
Asher nodded. "Very high in the instep. Soul of propriety and that sort of thing. Might not look too kindly on a match between a Frankenstein and a Cleese."
From the earl's private box, they all watched in concern as Frederick approached Miss Beal, his grin wide. But as he made to bow before the cherished lady, his very big feet got in the way and he tripped. He knocked Miss Beal's hand—the hand holding her punch, which sprayed all over her white silk gown. Hissing at Frederick, she fled with two of her female companions, leaving only the young bucks laughing uproariously and mocking Frederick's courting technique. Their mockery was too much for the gentle giant. Frederick fled, his back hunched and his big heart breaking.
"We must find Frederick at once!" Eve exclaimed. "I can't believe this is happening to him." Knowing the severity of his inferiority complex, she knew she must soothe him before he had an extreme attack of nerves.
Lady Jane rose to her feet with alacrity. "Yes. Let's go at once. I don't understand why some people must hurt others to feel better about themselves. Why did they all have to laugh at him? Oh, I wish his cousin Clare were here."
"History repeats itself," Eve replied. Then, seeing Jane's distress, she added, "I never understood why some people kick dogs, gossip to no good, or make others cry. It's a defect in their character—or rather, lack of character. They are missing something vital within, and because of this, I fear they will never truly be happy."
"If I know Frederick, he'll try to drink himself under the table in some run-down tavern," Lady Jane stated.
"Can he find a table that big?" Adam asked.
"Let's just hurry. I must find Frederick," Eve said. "I imagine he is experiencing a rather abrupt case of melancholia." She hurried out of the box, urging Adam with her.
He caught up, handing her the shawl she had left behind. "Don't worry, Evie; we'll find him. How hard can it be to find a six-foot-eight monster?"
Chapter Nineteen
Hooked!
Their initial search for Frederick Frankenstein was to no avail, though they covered over a dozen paths in the gardens; they'd sent Lady Jane to start searching taverns. Far overhead, the stars were tiny diamonds, glittering. Wisps of smoke from the last of the fireworks still hung in the air, and the golden glow of lanterns and the moon above made the shadows mysterious and romantic. Any other time, Adam would attempt to ravish the lovely woman beside him. But rogue though he was, he also recognized Eve's concern for her patient.
Wearily Eve shook her head. "I fear Frederick has long left," she said. Her voice broke suddenly, and she lowered her head. "My feet hurt. If I had known I would be walking for hours on end, I would have worn my walking boots."
"I believe you're right. Frederick's not here," Adam agreed. "Why don't you send a note to Dr. Frankenstein?" He reassuringly patted Eve's hand.
"I will. And I'll let Dr. Frankenstein know that I must see Frederick as soon as possible. This debacle tonight has probably set back his treatment by months. If I had been able to see him straightaway, I might have been able to defuse some of his embarrassment. He has such a big heart. Unfortunately, his feet are bigger," she remarked.
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Adam found himself smiling. "He's lucky to have you. You care quite deeply for your patients. You don't believe in unfair restraints, even for Hugo. You don't put your wards in pits or treat them harshly. So many fear those who are different, but you care for and about them."
Gazing into his eyes, Eve felt her breath hitch. He had such compelling eyes, which had suddenly had grown heavy-lidded with desire. His compliment might not fix everything, but it certainly lightened her load. "Thank you. I try so hard. Hours of therapy and evaluating—but I rarely am certain of the results."
Releasing her hand, he paced. "The point is, my dear, your patients can trust that you'll never give up on them."
Tilting her head, she studied him. It was as though a warm sea breeze trailed over her soul, and suddenly she needed to be held in his arms, to feel secure and warm… maybe even a tiny bit cherished. She nodded, feeling a marvelous sense of safety and comfort, knowing someone cared and understood.
"Yes, that's it exactly," she said. "And I must confess that you have been rather good with my patients, too."
"My aunt. She was a gentle lady with a loving soul. She lived with us. In her later years, she suffered delusions."
"I'm sorry," Eve responded, feeling more of a connection with Adam than she ever had. The man had befuddled, badgered, and butted heads with her, and now he was slowly bewitching her. The hint of true vulnerability beneath his charming façade had touched her soul. "What happened?"
The expression on his face showed that these memories came with a cost. Watching him, Eve felt the strongest urge to lay her head upon his breast and ease his pain—a most wifely thing to do, she noted absently, and most assuredly absurd.
"My aunt heard voices. It was not unusual to see her carrying on a conversation with no one, or with a tadpole in a pond, gesturing and grumbling. She would talk to a blank wall, or to a piece of lint on her sleeve. Her favorite conversationalist was a duck in our pond. She died when I was twelve. My mother—her sister—never gave up hope that she would become herself again. She combed my aunt's hair at night while listening to her complain about how the rocks shouted at her. Even after we lost my father, my mother was kindness itself."
"Your mother sounds like she was a remarkable woman," Eve said.
"Yes. She was one of the best of ladies. And she knew that love is not bestowed on the basis of merit or wealth. Love endures."
Eve took a few steps closer and placed her hand upon Adam's chest—her first really spontaneous gesture toward him.
Adam responded by leaning forward to kiss her lush lips. He felt desire swamp him, as much as when he was a lad of fourteen and had been given his first real kiss by a lusty milkmaid. A grand and glorious tupping had followed, and Adam was still known to look appreciatively at a mug of milk.