Chapter Twelve
Graham paced his bedroom, glancing occasionally at the rumpled bed where he’d awoken alone an hour ago. In his hand, he gripped a note from Lydia, left for him to find that morning. A simple line that said she wanted him to rest, that she would see him again soon.
Part of him was thrilled that she wasn’t just walking away after hearing the truth of him. But there was another part that felt…uneasy. Uneasy because thoughts of Adelaide continued to crowd his mind. How would she react if she knew he had given so much of himself, body and soul, to another woman?
He’d been faithful to Meg, who he hadn’t cared for beyond friendship. He wasn’t involved with Adelaide in any official capacity. He hadn’t even kissed her. And yet he felt he’d betrayed her with Lydia.
His mind spun. And he needed a friend. Tyndale had been called out of town. Ewan was packing up for his country estate—he meant to spend Christmas there, so he was going weeks and weeks early to prepare everything. An excuse, Graham knew, to escape the city he hated.
Still neither of them was available for him at present. And so that left James.
James had always been one of Graham’s closest friends. He and Simon had started out together, before the others. Before the club. Before their titles and their responsibilities. Their friendship had been damaged by everything that had happened in the summer, but he still wanted James’s opinion. His help.
Actually, it wasn’t James he wished to speak to. It was Simon. Simon, who could see into the heart of an issue and speak plainly without being cruel.
Only Simon was…well, Graham still wasn’t ready to face him yet. So James it would be.
He’d have to tread carefully. James knew some of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his father, as had some of the others. But Graham had never told anyone the secret about his mother’s death.
Until Lydia.
He winced as he relived the previous night once more. Then he pushed the thoughts from his mind and moved to his door. He rang the bell there and waited less than patiently for the footman who answered the call.
“Your Grace?” the young man said between out of breath gasps from jogging to respond.
“Tell Walters to be ready, as I’m penning a missive to the Duke of Abernathe that I’ll need to be delivered as soon as possible,” he said. “And let Rogers know I likely will be dining with Abernathe and the duchess tonight, so there should be no special preparations made for supper.”
“Yes, sir,” the servant said. “I’ll return shortly to retrieve your message.”
Graham acknowledged his words with a nod and then closed the door. It was rude to invite oneself to supper, even to a friend’s. But he needed to see James. And after they ate, he intended to explain everything going on in his life.
Maybe he could sort it out for himself even as he tried to explain it.
Adelaide paced the parlor, waiting for her aunt to join her for their usual afternoon tea. Normally she would run lines while she waited, but her mind was not on that. No, she couldn’t stop thinking about Graham. What they’d shared, what he’d told her, what she, herself was withholding from him.
She felt horrible. But she couldn’t veer from her course. She would wait another week, wait until her courses came, then she would reveal herself and let the consequences come.
“Oh God, I hope I can do it,” she whispered as she stopped to stare out the window to the street below. A goodly part of her wanted to jump out and just run.
But that wasn’t possible. Not for a woman like her. To do that would be to give up Adelaide forever. And there was more Adelaide in her than Lydia. She wasn’t brave enough to surrender to the character she’d created in an act of desperation.
She heard the door behind her shut and turned. Her aunt was standing at the barrier now, arms folded and her thin, wrinkled face lined with…anger.
Adelaide shoved the rest of her thoughts of Graham aside and readied herself for the worst. After all, she knew that look so very well.
“Aunt Opal,” she said, forcing her tone to be light as she carefully edged toward the sideboard where the tea was ready. “Right on time, as always. May I pour you some tea? And Mrs. Bligh has prepared your very favorite cakes, I see. I know you’ll want one of those.”
“I know you’re lying to me,” Opal said, ignoring the questions.
Adelaide had been reaching for the teapot and her hands froze midway. She swallowed hard, past her fear and slowly turned to her aunt.
“About the cakes?” she said, as breezy as Lydia delivering a line. “I assure you, I’m not. Come see for yourself.”
Her aunt slammed her hand back against the door. “Not about the cakes, you stupid girl. I know you’re lying to me. I recognize the signs from last time.”
She hissed out the last two words, and Adelaide flinched at the wretched sound. At the memories her words evoked.
“You’re imagining things,” she whispered.
Both her aunt’s eyebrows lifted at once and she moved toward Adelaide like a snake, coiled and ready to strike with poison dripping from its fangs.
Only Opal’s poison would be with her words, her cruelty.
Adelaide briefly wished it would be real venom rather than the kind that scarred the soul forever.
“You danced with that duke,” her aunt ground out. “Went out with him on the terrace to do I don’t know what horrid thing. And then you were mincing around him in the park two days ago. I know your whore ways.”
Adelaide shut her eyes briefly. Opal was always so poised to find fault in her behavior, she was often shocked that her aunt hadn’t figured out that she snuck out of the house three times a week to do something far more scandalous than merely dance with a duke.
But Opal looked for other kinds of sin in Adelaide, because of her past. She was blind to anything else, a fact Adelaide had used against her during her time as Lydia. All it took were a few sympathetic servants like her maid and some careful balancing acts when it came to entering and exiting the house.
“I assure you, aunt, Northfield and I are…” She hesitated as she thought of Graham’s hands on her. Of his whispered secrets. Of the depth with which she was beginning to care for him. “I’m nothing to him,” she finished. “Just a wallflower who is a friend to his best friend’s wife. He is polite to me, nothing more.”
“I know when a man has interest in a woman!” her aunt all but screeched. “I saw him leering at you in the park. And I see that look in your eyes when you talk about him.”
Opal came forward in three long steps, and Adelaide braced herself. But she was in no way ready for what her aunt did next. Opal’s hand shot out, and suddenly her fingers curled hard around Adelaide’s throat.
“Don’t play with me, you dirty girl,” Opal hissed. Her eyes had gone almost bleary, like she was no longer with Adelaide. “Don’t you dare.”
Adelaide clawed at her aunt’s hands, sucking for breath as she fought the surprising strength of Opal’s grip. And Opal was squeezing, squeezing, almost like she wished to end Adelaide. Her vision began to blur and she slapped at her aunt’s hands now, fighting for air and her life.
“Stop!”
Opal released Adelaide as they both turned toward the door. Adelaide bent over, and as her vision cleared she found Emma standing in the entryway, with a shocked and horrified Smith at her side.
“What in the world are you doing?” Emma cried, crossing the room in three long strides and clasping an arm around Adelaide. “Darling, are you all right?”
Adelaide stood, sucking in long breaths. “Y-yes,” she stammered as the reality of what had just happened became clear. “Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”
Emma looked her up and down, uncertainty clear on her face. Then her expression hardened. Emma became a person Adelaide had never seen before. Long gone was the wallflower Adelaide had called a friend for years. In her place was a duchess, a woman of power. Of confidence. Of fire.
And Emma turned all of that on Opal as she arched one fine brow. “How dare you, madam,” she said, her voice cold as ice.
“You come to my home, telling me how to handle my ward?” Opal cried, folding her arms. Adelaide could tell, though, that she was tentative in the face of Emma’s new strength.
It seemed Emma could see it too, for she lifted her chin. “Adelaide will come join me for supper,” Emma declared. “And she will stay with Abernathe and me at our home tonight.”
Opal jolted. “No,” she said firmly.
Emma moved toward Adelaide’s aunt. “I was not asking. Adelaide is going with me. Now. And I will expect that her maid will be sent after her with her things for a night away. Do I make myself clear?”
Opal swayed slightly, and Adelaide braced herself for a verbal attack. She didn’t think her aunt would try anything physical with Emma. She wouldn’t dare face off with the power that was Abernathe. Even her aunt would not be so foolish.
“Fine,” Opal said at last, her shoulders rolling. “Whatever you’d like.”
Then she turned on her heel and stomped from the room without another word. Emma watched her go, then turned her attention on Smith. “Are my instructions clear, Smith?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Smith said with the faintest of smiles for Adelaide. “I’ll make sure Rebecca gets everything together and is sent to your home as soon as possible.”
“Excellent,” Emma said, going back to Adelaide and putting her arm around her again. “Then I will take Adelaide now.”
Adelaide stared at her. “Emma…”
“No refusals,” Emma said, in almost the same tone she had used with Opal. A tone of strength and confidence. Adelaide found she rather liked it. She envied it.
Only Lydia had that tone. Adelaide had never mastered it when she didn’t wear a mask.
So she followed Emma, out of the house, into her carriage. It was only when they were moving that Emma’s cool countenance fell and she rushed to Adelaide’s side of the vehicle to hug her.
“Oh, Adelaide!” Emma all but sobbed. “What in the world happened?”
Adelaide stared at the floor, humiliation and pain and fear hitting her at last now that she was safe. Tears pricked behind her lids and she had no strength to fight them, so she let them fall.
“It’s nothing,” she tried to argue, but Emma shook her shoulders gently.
“She was choking you!” Emma cried. “You were turning blue. Please stop lying to me.”
Adelaide bent her head. “Very well. She came into the room, making accusations about my guardianship of my virtue.” She chose her words carefully, since she’d always kept Emma in the dark about so much. At first because she didn’t want Emma to worry when she was in no better position. Now because she didn’t want to mar her happiness.
“And that inspired her to attack you?” Emma asked.
Adelaide drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t expect it,” she whispered. “I was…terrified.”
“I can well imagine.” Emma held her tightly, and Adelaide allowed her head to drop to Emma’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while, then Emma sighed. “You will not return.”
Adelaide jolted. “Opal would never allow it.”
Emma snorted out derisive laughter. “Let her go to battle with James over that. I would wager he’ll win.”
“Why would he do that?” Adelaide asked.
Emma blinked as she looked at her. “Because he loves me. And I love you. Of course he would stand up for what was right.”
“I’m getting to be with you two tonight,” Adelaide said, unwilling to argue over what she knew Opal would do. Her aunt had always jealously guarded her power over Adelaide. She had no doubt she would fight to keep it, even though she felt no love for her niece. “That will have to be enough.”
Emma shifted and slowly moved back to her side of the carriage. She met Adelaide’s stare. “I must tell you something.”
Adelaide wrinkled her brow at the change in Emma’s demeanor. “Very well,” she said slowly. “Though your expression is very ominous.”
“Graham will be joining us tonight.”
Adelaide shut her eyes slowly. “Of course he will be,” she muttered. It was entirely fitting. A few days ago she had seen him at his lowest and most vulnerable. Tonight she was at hers.
And he’d be there. And he wouldn’t care.
“You sound disappointed,” Emma said. “You like him, don’t you?”
Adelaide looked at Emma and her heart sank. Her friend had never been much able to hide her heart, her hopes. Now they were written all over her face. She wanted Adelaide to somehow find an impossible match with Graham.
“He doesn’t like me,” Adelaide said slowly, both avoiding her friend’s question and trying to gently end her hopes. End her own.
Emma tilted her head. “How do you know that?”
Adelaide almost laughed though there was nothing amusing about the situation. “I just do,” she said with a shake of her head. “He wants…something I am most certainly not.”
Emma was quiet for a long moment, then she leaned forward. “I was something James didn’t want. Or thought he didn’t. And here I am.”
Adelaide smiled, for in that moment Emma had never been more beautiful. She had a baby growing in her stomach, her face was lit with a love so pure and powerful and true that it almost glowed from within her. She had faith in the world, in her husband, in herself.
And Adelaide had never been so happy for, nor so jealous of a person all at once. With effort, she reached out to take Emma’s hand. “I’m not you, love.”
Emma caught her breath, and Adelaide could see that she wanted to fight that statement. Deny it. Force Adelaide to become something she knew she could never be.
But there must have been something in Adelaide’s face that stopped her. For Emma merely squeezed her hand and allowed Adelaide to collapse back against the carriage seat.
“When will he come?” Adelaide asked.
Emma frowned. “A bit before eight. For supper.”
Adelaide nodded. That gave her a few hours to prepare herself for him. For the fact that when he saw her, she would see the man she was starting to care for.
And he would only see the wallflower he tolerated.