Chapter Six
Adelaide stood in the nursery of Emma’s London home, cooing over the sweetest christening outfit she’d ever seen. “The lace is fantastic,” she said, fingering the softness of it.
“It’s been in James’s family for generations,” Emma said with a contented sigh. “He wore it, as did Meg, and now this baby will continue the tradition.”
“Oh, Emma,” Adelaide whispered, shocked that tears suddenly stung her eyes. She turned away so her friend wouldn’t see, but turning away from herself was not possible.
She didn’t begrudge Emma her happiness, certainly. But she was jealous. Despite her sneaking out to act in the theatre, despite her continuing attendance to parties and balls, her life was predictable. Her past wouldn’t allow her the future Emma now stepped into.
She would likely live and die alone. She had accepted that fact as best she could. Her escapes were the way she lived with it.
“Adelaide,” Emma began, but before she could continue, there were sounds of male voices from the hall.
Adelaide took the distraction, backing from the room as she said, “It sounds as though Abernathe has arrived.”
Emma examined her closely but then nodded. “Indeed, it does. Come, let’s greet him.”
Adelaide followed her friend down to the foyer, gathering her breath and her senses with every step. She was fine. This was fine. Everything would be fi—
Her mind cut off the soothing thought as she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw that Abernathe was not alone. There, standing beside him as Emma stepped up to greet him, was Northfield.
Graham recognized that Emma was speaking and James was answering, but he had no idea what they were talking about. He was too busy staring at Lady Adelaide. She remained three steps up on the stairs, her hand clenched in a white-knuckled grip on the railing. And she was staring straight at him through those spectacles that made her eyes so frustratingly hard to read. Hard to see at all. All he knew was that they were focused on him.
And he was not sorry about that fact.
“And you know Adelaide, I think, don’t you, Graham?”
Graham jolted as Emma placed a warm hand on his forearm and drew his attention back to proper and practical things, like introductions.
“Y-Yes,” he croaked, stepping forward to extend a hand. “Lady Adelaide, how nice to see you again.”
She swallowed, that slender throat working with the action, and then she came down the last few steps. She stared at his extended hand a beat too long before she took it and allowed him to bow over it briefly.
“I did not know you would be here, Your Grace,” she said. Her cheeks brightened to pink the moment she said the words. “I-I mean, good evening.”
Emma glanced back and forth between them and then motioned to the room off the foyer. “Gracious, let’s not stand in the drafty hall all night. Come, we’ll go to the parlor.”
She and James led the way and Adelaide fell into step beside Graham as they followed. The moment they entered, she left his side and moved to the opposite end of the chamber, almost as physically far as she could get from him without breaking the glass and hurdling herself out the window and into the street for an escape.
He watched her. She was uncomfortable because of his presence. And of course she would be. Their parting last night had been abrupt, brought on by his compliment of her and her sharp reaction to it.
He hadn’t pursued her after that, finding other ways to avoid Simon and Meg before he slipped from the ball with what he hoped was little fanfare. But he’d been thinking of Adelaide ever since, images of her merging and colliding with those of Lydia Ford.
He shook his head when James said, “We’ll be right back.”
He blinked as Emma and James stepped from the room, leaving him as alone with Adelaide as he had been on the terrace. He shifted his weight. “Where were they going?” he asked. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”
Adelaide speared him with a glance. “They claimed to be going to inform the staff that there would be two extra guests for supper. But since either of them could have performed that duty alone or asked a servant to do it, I think they were actually going to talk about the fact that each of them invited one of us without the other knowing.”
He tilted his head. “Is that a problem, Adelaide?”
She stiffened at his less formal address of her and turned her face to look out at the dark street below. “It isn’t for me, Your Grace.”
“Good,” he said, and then he did the thing he’d been wanting to do since they entered the room. He took a step toward her.
She wasn’t looking at him, but he knew she marked the movement by the way her breath caught and her hand slowly clenched into a fist at her side. Things that only urged him on.
“Last night at the ball, I said something to you that clearly offended you,” he said, glancing back at the door to ensure they were not about to be interrupted.
“Of course you didn’t,” she said softly, refusing to look at him.
“Of course I did,” he corrected her. “Else you would not have walked away from me on the terrace. I’m not exactly certain how I offended you, but I apologize regardless.”
She caught her breath, and now it was she who took a long step toward him. The distance between them was rapidly shrinking, and he found he wasn’t sorry for that.
“You aren’t certain?” she said, keeping her voice low even though the anger in it was clear. “You were toying with me, Your Grace. You were playing a game.”
“You accused me of that last night,” he said. “And I assure you, I do not play games.”
She shook her head. “All men play games.”
There was something about her tone that drew Graham up short, and he stared at her. For months he had been wrapped up in his own pain and betrayal and heartbreak. He’d been incapable of recognizing anyone else’s feelings. Now he saw hers, flitting across that slender face before she packed them away and hid them.
And a strange part of him longed to dig those feelings out. Allow her to express them as she clearly did not do. Comfort her.
He didn’t, of course. It wasn’t his place. Not in this world or any other. But just because he had no connection to this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t be gentlemanly. He had the capacity, he just hadn’t been in practice lately.
“Adelaide, let me assure you I was not playing a game with you last night. I danced with you because I was uncomfortable with the situation, but I was honest with you about that, wasn’t I?”
Her lips parted and his attention was drawn to her mouth immediately. He shook off the reaction as she said, “Well…yes.”
“I chose you because I thought you wouldn’t hound me about Meg and Simon. Which, of course, you did.”
She gasped in outrage. “I did not!”
He found himself chuckling a little as he shook his head, and was shocked by it. He hadn’t laughed in a very long time. “You did, Adelaide. But I somehow didn’t mind your questions. They’re the same ones all my friends have been dancing around for months. You are the first to be so damned direct, and perhaps I needed it in that moment where I felt so…vulnerable.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Oh.”
“And I admit I asked you because I didn’t think you’d assume my invitation to take a turn around the dancefloor was an indication that I wished to link my life to yours for the rest of my days.”
She clenched her jaw slightly. “Of course not, don’t be foolish.”
He nodded. “You see, you are practical. I like that about you. Either way, the reason I asked you onto the terrace afterward was because I did enjoy the dance and I didn’t necessarily wish to stop talking to you. None of that was a game. None of that was a lie.”
“But what about what you said on the terrace?” she countered. “You told me you thought I was pretty and I know that is a lie. One you probably tell without thinking because it’s what simpering, ridiculous fools want you to say when you look into their eyes and pretend to like them.”
He shook his head slowly. What the hell had someone done to this woman? Her sharp reaction was too specific not to think it hadn’t been born from bitter experience.
“First,” he said, ticking one finger with the other. “It isn’t a lie. You have an interesting face, Adelaide. Second, I haven’t stared into a ridiculous fool’s eyes and told her anything for almost a decade. If you recall, I have been engaged up until recently, so I haven’t been bent on seducing anyone since I was nineteen.” He huffed out his breath. “But if you do not want me to call you pretty, then I will certainly never do so again. I will only compliment you on your intelligence and your wit and the fact that you may be the most frustrating person I have ever had the pleasure of talking to.”
He stopped talking for a moment, and his face fell. Great God, what had he just said to this person? This lady? This stranger? And now she was just staring at him, eyes wide beneath her spectacles, face unreadable, but filled with tension.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, she tilted her head back and began to laugh. The sound took him utterly off guard, for it was a throaty, rich laugh that echoed in the small room around them. A lovely laugh. A sensual laugh, actually.
And a laugh that drew him in and made him smile despite himself.
“Goodness, I’m so sorry,” she said as she regained her composure. “I must have seemed like a wretched girl having such a strong reaction to some simple words.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t. But why did you react so strongly?”
She shrugged and the pleasure left her face. “Experience, Your Grace. We all have it, don’t we? And sometimes it’s impossible not let the past wheedle its way into the present and even damage the future.” She moved toward him again, carefully. “But now it seems that you and I are going to see more of each other. I’m so close to Emma, and if you are renewing your friendship with Abernathe we would not be able to avoid it if we wished to. So…so will you allow me to start again?”
He nodded, though he was taken aback by her confidence beneath that shifting wallflower surface. It felt…familiar somehow, though he had no idea why.
“Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”
She held out a hand. “Adelaide,” she said, as a means to introduce herself.
He stared at her offering and then took it, shaking gently. “Graham,” he said, foregoing his title. “At least in private.”
“Graham,” she said, sliding her fingers from his. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Their hosts reentered the room in that moment, and Adelaide blushed as she stepped away from him.
“Well, it’s all arranged,” Emma said brightly, though her gaze flitted to Adelaide and then slowly to Graham. “I hope you two were able to entertain yourselves.”
Graham nodded. “We were, indeed. Your friend is a charming companion.”
Adelaide bent her head, and there was a shadow of a smile that tilted her lips, like a private joke had passed between them. And he found he liked that. Liked having her comfortable with him. And that was good, for as she said, they would likely see a great deal of each other if he was renewing his relationship with James and Emma.
And it would be good to have a friend as he figured out where he now fit in his old circle.
Adelaide sipped her after-dinner drink and watched as Graham bent over the billiard table to take a shot. Instead of separating after supper, James had suggested the foursome remain together to talk as the men played their game. Now Adelaide was happy they had done so, since she got to enjoy the very fine sight of Graham’s toned backside as he leaned.
“Did you have a good time?” Emma asked.
Adelaide jumped at her friend’s voice. She forced a smile and turned away from their companions with great difficulty. “Yes, I did. I’m so glad you invited me—it was a welcome respite from the boredom and discomfort of my usual supper company.”
Emma smiled. “And you weren’t put off by Graham being here? I had no idea James was even going to see him today, let alone would invite him to supper.”
“Of course not,” Adelaide said, and meant it. “He was a charming companion.”
Emma expression softened with relief. “That’s funny, for he described you the same way earlier. But he was, wasn’t he? I never knew him before his engagement to Meg, and everything happened so quickly after I married James that I’ve spent little time with him. But tonight he was the man my husband has always described as his best and truest friend.”
Adelaide allowed herself another glance at Graham. He was leaning on his cue now, and to her surprise he was staring straight at her. He smiled as he was caught and shocked her by winking.
She spun back toward Emma, her breath suddenly short. What was he doing? Not a week before he’d been pinning Lydia Ford to a table and kissing her until she was weak in the knees. Tonight he was flirting with a wallflower and acting like it was all bloody normal.
And he said she was the most frustrating person on earth. Except when she looked at him, she didn’t feel frustrated. She felt…well, she felt things she wasn’t meant to feel as Lady Adelaide, spinster daughter of a dead earl. As Lydia, perhaps she could feel them. Pursue them even.
“What do you think of him?” Emma asked.
Adelaide jerked her face to Emma. Was she playing matchmaker? But her friend’s expression was calm and unreadable. Of course she wouldn’t. Woman like Adelaide didn’t belong with men like Graham.
She dropped her gaze and sighed. “Well, I hardly know him well enough to formulate an opinion one way or another,” she said. “Now, you mentioned something at supper about a ladies society for charitable works. I’d be very interested in that.”
Emma hesitated, and Adelaide could see her attempts at changing the subject were a bit heavy-handed, but Emma allowed for it. She began to talk about the group and Adelaide forced herself to truly attend.
But in the back of her mind she heard a voice whispering to her. Her own voice that told her she certainly had an opinion about Graham, even if she wouldn’t dare share it with Emma. She liked him. And that was too dangerous not to acknowledge. She would have to tread carefully now.
It was the only way to protect herself.