Clearly puzzled, she stared at him. “But I saw Delia when she left Mrs. Crow’s. She seemed truly distressed. And Mrs. Crow told me what she asked for.” She paused, frowning. “If you aren’t . . . If the two of you haven’t . . . then I wonder why—”
Adam didn’t have to wonder. “I know why,” he said. “I know who.”
Annie’s expression was blank. “Who? Adam, you can’t possibly think—”
“Yes, I can,” he said. “I met the man a couple of days ago, coming out of my house. In fact, that’s what I came to talk to you about, Annie.” He leaned back in his chair. “His name is Simpson. Delia said he was just ‘passing through’ on his way from Galveston to Austin. He brought her a box of candy and a letter. She said they were from her sister, but I don’t believe it.”
Annie put down her cup. “Candy and a letter? You mean, she actually had a conversation with him?”
He reached for her hand. “It wasn’t just a conversation, Annie.”
“Are you sure?” She hesitated. “I’m asking this, Adam, because Delia made a big point of telling me about a man who came calling, a Mr. Simpson. She said he pursued her from Galveston, but she sent him away—him and his box of candy.” She pulled her hand away. “She said something like, ‘The poor man didn’t even get to set foot in the house.’”
“He set both feet in the house,” Adam said tersely. “He smoked his cigar in the parlor and—” He stopped. There was more, of course. “Her dress was . . . disarranged. And a button was missing. I found it on the floor.”
“Disarranged?” Annie looked troubled. “Oh, surely not! I mean, what you’re thinking—it’s very serious, Adam. Perhaps you should give her the benefit of the doubt. After all . . .” Her voice trailed away.
He knew what Annie was thinking: that he imagined Delia guilty of doing something that he himself had done. And that she didn’t want to charge Delia for a sin she herself had committed. But he shook his head again. “I might doubt it, if Greta—the hired girl—hadn’t told me . . .”
He stopped. Greta hadn’t actually told him anything. He had read her accusing expression, that was all, and interpreted it to mean that she had seen what went on in the parlor between Delia and that man. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Simpson wasn’t just ‘passing through,’ as Delia kept insisting. The man is still here. I saw him again this morning, having breakfast at the hotel.”
“Oh,” Annie said in a small voice. “Oh, Adam. You think she’s . . . that they’re . . .” She clasped her hands together tightly.
“I don’t know what to think,” he said. “What’s fair for me is fair for my wife. If Delia and Simpson are engaging in a . . . liaison, I can scarcely complain.”
“And I’m feeling terribly hypocritical, too.” Annie ducked her head, the flush rising in her cheeks. Her voice was low. “This is so awkward, Adam. I can’t feel sorry for what we’ve done, but I’ve put you in a difficult position.”
“If I’m in a difficult position, it’s not your doing, Annie,” he said emphatically. “Anyway, when you get right down to it, I ought to be glad.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Maybe she’ll decide she loves him. Maybe she’ll run off with him.”
“What?” Annie’s eyes were large. “Leave you? Leave Caroline? Oh, Adam, she could never do that! It’s unthinkable.”
Adam knew she was at least partly right. Delia might no longer love him—perhaps she never had. Perhaps she had only loved what she thought he could give her. But she truly loved their daughter. She would never leave Caroline—and a woman who abandoned her husband could not expect to keep her child. What’s more, she valued her reputation as a dedicated mother and the charming wife of a respectable and well-off business owner. Running away with another man would create an enormous scandal, a public humiliation that she could not endure. Delia might like to imagine herself a femme fatale, he thought, especially when she went back to Galveston. But she was too conventional to abandon her marriage, no matter how sorely she was tempted.
Simpson complicated the situation, however. Why was the fellow still hanging around Pecan Springs? He didn’t have business here, as far as Adam was able to discover. Was he watching for a chance to see and talk with Delia? Or was she leading him on, letting him hope that she might have some feeling for him? The titillating excitement of a flirtation was something she might very well relish, he thought—the thrill of being admired and perhaps even loved by a man who was not her husband.
As Adam thought of this, he felt a great gulf of despair open up inside him, all around him. He was condemned to spend his entire life with a woman he didn’t love, a woman who might be foolish enough to engage in a dalliance that could injure all of them.
And then he came back, as he always did, to the terrible irony of his position. Here he was, in love with a wonderful woman who could be badly compromised—by visits like the very one they were having tonight.
If Delia could be said to be foolish, so, too, could Annie.
If Simpson was culpable, so, too, was he.
If Delia found out about Annie, she might use the knowledge against him—or worse, against her. And he couldn’t, in good conscience, remonstrate. By his actions, he had yielded up the right to appeal to his wife, or to charge her or punish her. He had opened
