Julianne MacLean (10 page)

A
fter a formal dinner, during which Adele sat gratefully at the opposite end of the table from Damien, the ladies retired to the drawing room for coffee, while the gentlemen remained at the table to enjoy their claret and cigars.

“Come and sit with me, Adele,” Violet said, patting the sofa cushion beside her. “It’s time we became better acquainted. We’re going to be sisters, after all.”

Adele rose from the chair on the other side of the room to join her future sister-in-law, who looked ravishing in a low-necked gown of magenta silk, trimmed with black lace. Her dark hair was pulled up in a most flattering bun with loose tendrils curling around her temples.

“Harold is so happy you’re here at last,” she said, leaning to pick up her coffee cup. “He absolutely adores you. I’ve never known him to be so deeply in love.”

“Thank you, Violet.”

“You must be pleased to be reunited with him as well.”

“Oh yes.”

Violet lowered her voice to a whisper and touched Adele’s hand. “I can’t imagine what you must have suffered the past few days. I said a prayer for you every night, and we were all so relieved to hear that Damien had found you. You must tell me everything. Was it as horrible as I imagined?”

Adele swallowed uncomfortably. “How horrible did you imagine it?”

“Well, to be kidnapped and held prisoner is one thing, but then to have to travel alone across England with a man like Damien. You must have been terrified.”

Adele leaned forward to set her cup down on the table. “I wasn’t terrified of Damien. Or…was that what you meant?”

She could have kicked herself.

Violet gazed intently at her for a moment and narrowed her eyes, then smiled and waved a hand through the air. “Oh, of course you wouldn’t be terrified of Damien. He’s family. Though with
his
reputation, a lady should never be too careful. I daresay, it was a good thing we managed to keep it secret, or you’d be ruined for sure.” She laughed.

Adele didn’t know what to say.

Violet covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, I’ve shocked you. I was only joking, Adele. I adore Damien like a brother, and I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m not offended,” Adele replied, working hard to keep her composure. “My sister had mentioned that Damien was slightly—” she stopped. “Oh, I don’t remember what she said. It’s not important. All that matters is that I’m here now and I’m safe, and Harold and I are to be married.”

Violet squeezed her hand. “Yes, and I hope you’ll let me help with the plans. I can show you all the best shops where you can choose your flowers and everything else. It’s going to be such fun.” Her voice took on a playful tone. “I only hope we can keep Mother from insisting upon using the family seamstress. She’ll want to make you look like a big glob of clotted cream with bows.”

Adele smiled, though her chest hurt.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let her do it. I want everything to be perfect for you and Harold. He’s my only brother, after all, and my favorite person in all the world. You couldn’t ask for a better husband, Adele. He’s the most decent man you’ll ever know. Don’t ever forget that.”

Adele picked up her coffee cup, and knew that he was indeed the most decent man she would ever know, and she was very lucky. She also knew that she had to be sensible in the coming days, keep her feet on the ground, and be very careful with her decisions.

“No, I don’t know the Earl of Whitby very well,” Clara said to Eustacia, who was glancing across the room at her daughter, Violet. “I met him at my sister’s wedding, but I’ve not had the pleasure of his acquaintance since then. I was married just last Season, you see, and from what I understand, the earl has been in California until recently.”

Eustacia handed Clara a cup of steaming coffee with cream. “Yes, that trip to California is what I’m wondering about. I assume he was looking for an American wife.” She met Clara’s gaze. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. You girls are charming and lovely. I only mention it because I think Violet might have caught his eye. She does look stunning in that gown, don’t you think?” Eustacia gazed proudly at her daughter.

“Yes, she does. She’ll do very well this Season, Eustacia. I wouldn’t be surprised if she receives a dozen proposals.”

Eustacia sipped her coffee. “One will do fine,” she replied with a somewhat anxious smile. “As long as it’s the one she wants.”

Later, the gentlemen joined them for an evening of music and entertainment—all except Damien, who sent his apologies, explaining that he had a business matter to attend to.

Adele was relieved. She hadn’t been sure she could keep up the pretense of never having met Damien before. Nor had she been looking for
ward to spending an evening not only hiding her feelings of attraction, but struggling to bury them as well.

Violet played the piano and sang a charming rendition of “Home Sweet Home.” Shortly thereafter, a game of charades began, and much giggling ensued. Afterward, Adele found herself alone with her fiancé at last, in a quiet corner of the drawing room.

“Harold, I’m so sorry to have caused so much anxiety for your family these past few days,” she said. “I can’t bear the thought that I was such a bother.”

“Nonsense,” he said with a smile, in his usual friendly manner. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Tomorrow I will take you on a tour of the house and gardens, and you’ll feel like you’ve lived here your entire life.”

She felt her shoulders rise and fall with a contented sigh. “That would be very nice, Harold. Thank you.”

“And I believe,” he said, “that my mother is bursting with ideas about our nuptials. I hope you’ll humor her by listening. She mentioned lilies in the church, and she was most curious to know what you Americans like to eat. I daresay, she’s eager to please. She sees it as her duty to bridge the gap between our two cultures and smooth out your conversion.”

Adele swallowed. “It’s not as if I were changing religions, Harold.”

He laughed awkwardly. “No, no, of course not. I only mean to say that some things will be
very new for you. I hope you will feel free to turn to Mother with any questions you may have. It is imperative that you learn all about our English ways.”

“I certainly will, but I hope I will be able to turn to
you
, too, Harold, for we are to be husband and wife.”

He blushed, then laughed out loud. “Quite so! Quite so! I will be happy to answer any of your questions, Miss Wilson.” His blush brightened. “Adele! I keep forgetting.”

She smiled, finding his nervousness endearing. How comfortable she felt when she was in his amenable company. There were no nervous butterflies. He was everything she remembered him to be.

The party ended shortly after two
A.M
. Adele and Clara walked together to their rooms, which were conveniently located across from each other in the Huntington Wing.

“Will you come in for a little while?” Adele asked, hoping Clara wasn’t too tired.

“Of course. We haven’t had a chance to talk yet, have we? Not without Mother listening in. And Seger will be arriving tomorrow, so I will no doubt be pleasantly
occupied
most of the day.”

They both smiled. Adele knew all too well the fire that burned between her sister and her husband, Seger.

“You are just as naughty as ever, Clara. That’s probably what Seger loves most about you.”

“That, and my brown sugar buns. He’s still
appalled that I haven’t shared the recipe with Cook. I insist on making them myself, and the servants still haven’t figured out what to make of a marchioness in the kitchen. They never seem to know where to stand when I’m there. They hustle about in a panic, trying to fetch things for me.”

Adele laughed and led the way into her bedchamber. Clara sat down on the bed, while Adele removed her pearl necklace and laid it down on her night table. “Clara, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Clara replied.

Adele faced her sister and paused before speaking. “Why have you always tried to talk me into having adventures, when I’ve constantly told you I don’t want them?”

Clara smiled gently and thought about her answer. “I suppose I always wished that you would let go of your inhibitions every once in a while. I worried that you might be repressing your passions, and that you might eventually explode. Because I certainly would, if I were as perfect as you all the time.”

Adele snickered. “Explode?”

“Yes. Though you have never shown any signs of unhappiness or discontent. So all my life, I’ve told myself that you’re not like me, and I shouldn’t expect you to have to ‘let go’ like I must do sometimes. We’re different, that’s all, and I accept that.”

Adele thought about the way she had felt in bed with Damien the night before. She had def
initely been repressing passions, passions she hadn’t even known she possessed.

“Yet you keep trying to make me ‘let go,’ as you put it,” she said. “On the ship, you wanted me to have a Season.”

Clara shrugged apologetically. “Old habits are hard to break.”

Adele turned to face the mirror again, and pulled the pins out of her hair. “Maybe you still believe I’m repressed.”

Clara didn’t say anything.

“I’ve begun to wonder,” Adele said, “why I have always been so well behaved, and so different from you and Sophia. Was I born this way, or did something make me this way?”

“Maybe you should ask Mother that question.” Clara leaned back on the bed and put her hand on something. “What’s this?” She picked up a note that lay on Adele’s pillow and handed it to Adele.

It was written on the Osulton stationery.

Adele’s pulse began to beat erratically, all because of a simple note. A note from
him
. And of course the knowledge that someone would be examining her intimately tomorrow, and finally
telling her whether or not she still possessed her maidenhead. “Oh my.”

Clara slipped it out from between Adele’s fingers. “Someone’s coming to examine your leg,” she said cheerfully. “That’s very wise. You don’t want to risk an infection. Wait—who’s D.?” She stared at the note for a few seconds. “That must be Lord Alcester.”

Clara looked up at Adele, who couldn’t seem to feel her tongue at the present moment, which made no sense. It was just a note about a doctor’s visit—a visit she had been readily anticipating.

But the note had been private, meant only for her, and it had been written in the finest hand…

“Oh,” Clara said softly. “You were on a first name basis.”

Adele knew that somehow, without her ever saying a word to Clara, Clara suddenly understood everything.

“I see.” She gave the note back and stood up, pacing behind Adele. “I must say, I was quite surprised when I met him this evening.”

“Why?” Adele asked.

“Because he’s so handsome. Why didn’t you mention that?”

“I’m engaged to Harold. I don’t notice whether or not other men are handsome.”

Adele wasn’t sure why she was denying this to Clara, who already seemed to know the truth. Perhaps it was because every instinct Adele possessed was telling her to deny it to herself as well. And she was so used to being good.

She continued to stand before her night table, slowly removing her earrings, until Clara stopped pacing behind her. “You don’t have to be that way with me, Adele. I’m your sister.”

Adele crossed the room to fetch her dressing gown. “I’m not being
that way
. Honestly, I care nothing about what Lord Alcester looks like. Don’t you remember what Sophia said about him? That he keeps mistresses with questionable reputations?
I
certainly remembered, and I made the connection as soon as he told me who he was. I could hardly find a man like that attractive, Clara, no matter what he looks like. You know me better than that.”

“But he rescued you—quite heroically—then tended to a wound on your thigh.”

“I’d been shot. We had no choice about the thigh. Believe me, I didn’t feel a thing except pain.”

Too late, she realized how defensive she’d sounded just then, and faced her sister, who was looking at her with a sympathetic expression. Perhaps the “discontent” Clara had mentioned and feared was finally revealing itself. Perhaps this was a small hint of an explosion. Adele felt a sudden wave of apprehension move through her.

“Don’t, Clara,” she said firmly, holding up a hand. “I’m fine. I’m in love with Harold, and he’s the one I want to marry.”

“But—”

“No buts. I know you have very romantic notions about passion and adventure—and I will be the first to admit that Damien is a handsome
man—but we’ve had this conversation before. Damien might have come to my rescue, but he is not my knight in shining armor. Harold is. Harold sent him, after all.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“No buts!” she said again. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Damien helped me, and I am grateful for that, but he’s not the kind of man I would ever want to marry. That’s the end of the story.”

Clara—quite surprisingly—gave in. “All right. I won’t mention it again.”

“Thank you.”

Clara yawned. “I think I’ll check on Anne now, then go to bed.”

She walked to the door, but paused and glanced uncertainly at Adele before she left. As soon as the door closed behind her, Adele picked up the note and read it again, then thought about Damien arranging for the doctor. He had spent some time thinking of her and her needs, in particular about her worries regarding a most intimate, personal matter. She imagined him taking the time to make the arrangements—riding to see the doctor, explaining things as discreetly as possible. He had not forgotten about her.

Warmth swelled inside her belly. She wondered curiously if he had told Harold about the examination. A part of her—a part that she didn’t want to face—hoped he had not. She liked knowing it was a secret they shared, just between the two of them. And she couldn’t imagine discussing it with Harold.