Chapter Nine
“Did you know that I heard a racket last night?”
Adelaide jerked her head up from the pretty pair of gloves she had been eyeing on the table in the dressmaker’s shop and stared at her aunt. Opal was worrying a necklace around her neck, her gaze wide and troubled.
“A racket?” she asked, and tried to sound nonchalant.
The racket, of course, had been her sneaking back into her aunt’s home after her wild and wonderful night with Graham. Normally her maid, one of the few people who knew the truth about her, greeted her at a set time after her shows. But since she had returned so late the girl had been forced to sit in the kitchen and had fallen asleep as she waited. When Adelaide had knocked, poor Rebecca had awoken with a start and toppled over a broom. The two had been forced to scurry away before they were caught.
“Yes, a crash in the kitchen after two in the morning,” Opal said. “I thought it was an intruder and I rang for Smith.”
“You woke Smith up?” Adelaide said, feeling very guilty for that fact. The kindly butler was already so put upon with Opal’s odd moods and occasional outbursts, she hated to think she’d caused him more grief.
“Of course I did. What was I to do, go down myself and be…” Opal dropped her voice so the shopkeep wouldn’t hear her. “…accosted in my kitchen?”
“No, Smith is better suited for that, isn’t he?” Adelaide muttered, and her aunt glared.
“It is what I pay him for, isn’t it?” Opal snapped.
Technically that was true, so Adelaide shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with her aunt at any rate. Digging deeper might only lead to trouble. “I assume he found nothing?”
Opal sighed, almost as if she were disappointed they hadn’t all been murdered in their beds by robbers. “No. A fallen broom, he thought, perhaps turned over by a mouse.”
“Then there is nothing to fear, is there?” Adelaide said with a false smile as relief washed over her. Once again she had somehow escaped detection. “The mystery is solved and all is well.”
Her aunt looked less than convinced, but before she could continue the conversation, a voice called out from across the shop. “Lady Adelaide!”
Adelaide turned toward it, but any happiness she had at being interrupted dissolved when she saw the owner of the voice that said her name. The Duchess of Crestwood was coming across the shop, her smile wide and her eyes locked on Adelaide.
Adelaide found herself shifting as the woman reached her, setting her shoulders back, widening her stance a little. Like they were going to battle. Ridiculous.
“Your Grace,” she said as calmly as she could. “How unexpected.”
The duchess tilted her head slightly and then turned her attention toward Adelaide’s chaperone. “Good afternoon. Lady Opal, isn’t it? What a lovely name.”
Opal actually looked impressed as she looked the duchess up and down, not that Adelaide could blame her. The woman exuded such confidence and grace, and it was well-known how much she was liked and respected in Society. Her marriage to Crestwood had changed that somewhat—people whispered, of course, but if anyone could overcome that, it would be this woman.
Graham was another story, though, and that made Adelaide push away any unexpected respect she felt for the duchess and harden herself.
“Lady Opal?” the shopkeeper said, motioning to the fabric her aunt had demanded he fetch from the back.
“Excuse me, won’t you?” Opal said, and Adelaide’s heart sank. Normally she did not mourn when her aunt walked away, but today she wanted to race after her.
Instead she turned back to find the duchess watching her, an appraising look on her face. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
Adelaide cleared her throat, uncertain how to proceed. “Thank you, Your Grace. Though I don’t know why.”
“Meg, truly you must call me Meg,” the duchess said. “And I’m pleased because I know you are a great friend of Emma’s and I adore her almost beyond reason. So we must be friends, mustn’t we?”
Adelaide shifted slightly. She recognized the dark feeling that bloomed in her chest as she looked at the duchess…Meg. Jealousy. Jealousy of her fast friendship with Emma, who had once been closest to Adelaide. And jealousy of whatever this woman had once shared with Graham. Even knowing how it had ended, even knowing he hadn’t loved her, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever kissed her. Touched her.
Being that they’d been engaged for so long, she had to believe something had passed between them. How could anyone be with Graham and not want to feel his arms wrapped around them?
Apparently she had been considering those thoughts for too long, for Meg smiled slightly. “Well, I would like to be friends, at any rate.”
Adelaide gasped. “Oh, yes. Of course. I’m certain we will see each other from time to time given our relationships to Emma.”
Meg’s forehead wrinkled slightly. “I hope that will be true. And perhaps one day we will also see more of Northfield back in our circle as well.”
Adelaide stared at her. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said, her tone far cooler as her hackles raised. How dare this woman act like Graham could simply slip back into the way things were after what had happened to him? She felt a strong desire to defend him yet again. And it still wasn’t her place.
Even after what they’d shared last night.
“Don’t you?” Meg said. “Emma had said something about you two developing a bit of a friendship of sorts.”
Adelaide froze, her mind dragging her to images of Graham’s mouth between her legs, of him rising over her as he took her, of his searing kiss that made her whole body so damned weak.
She shook those thoughts aside. “I hardly know the man, so I don’t know why Emma would say that.”
“He’s a good friend to have,” Meg insisted, her tone suddenly growing faraway. “Steadfast and loyal.”
Adelaide couldn’t help it. She folded her arms firmly across her chest. “Seems he has not always received that from his friends in return.”
Meg flinched, and Adelaide immediately wished she could take the harsh words back. After all, Meg was Emma’s sister-in-law. If she weren’t more prudent, she could end up losing Emma, and for what? A man who probably didn’t think of her at all? Lydia was what he wanted. A fantasy that didn’t truly exist. A woman who would disappear eventually, for there was no way she could keep up her double life indefinitely.
Meg looked off toward the door, tears in her eyes. “The situation between Simon and Graham and me was…complicated,” she said softly.
Adelaide caught her breath. “I really don’t think you should tell me—”
“Normally I wouldn’t speak of it, but I saw you with him at the party a few days ago,” Meg interrupted. “There was something between you. I may not have loved Graham, he certainly didn’t love me. But I knew him. Once upon a time, I knew him. If you are a friend to him, as Emma claims and you deny, then I think he needs one. And clearly you wish to defend him and I think he needs that, too.”
Adelaide shifted, for what she felt for Graham was really very complicated. Desire, yes. Frustration, yes. Jealousy…yes. And she didn’t want to face any of that yet. Or ever. And yet she did want to know more. She wanted to know what Graham wouldn’t say.
“Wh-why did it happen as it did?” she asked.
Meg stared at her for what felt like an eternity, until Adelaide shifted with discomfort. Until she began to search for a way to change the subject.
“I don’t normally speak of it,” Meg whispered at last. “But I loved Simon from the first moment I met him.”
“Then why did you agree to marry Northfield?” Adelaide asked.
“I didn’t.” Meg ducked her head. “James arranged it. We were all so young when it happened, none of us had the capacity to figure out how to abandon the plan. None of us had the courage to take the first step. That nearly cost me the love of my life. And it has cost Simon one of the truest friends he’s ever had. Seeing his pain and knowing the depth of Graham’s is the only mar upon my happiness.”
Adelaide bit her lip. Here she had seen Meg and Simon as the evildoers in the situation, but she could see how truly bothered Meg was by her husband’s pain. More than that, she could see how much she was hurt by Graham’s.
“Is there any way to—to fix it?” Adelaide asked.
“What you must understand,” Meg said softly, “is that James, Simon, Graham and all the others are like brothers. Were like brothers. My greatest wish is that they can overcome this and Graham will return to us. Home where he belongs. How that happens, well, I suppose we’ll all see.”
There was something about the way Meg speared her with a stare that made Adelaide’s heart jump. That made her feel that Meg thought she would have some role in Graham’s reunion with his friends. But that placed far too much importance on her. More than he would ever give.
She turned her face. “My aunt appears to be finished with her transaction, so I must excuse myself,” she said.
Meg nodded. “Of course. It was nice to see you again, Adelaide.” She leaned in. “And I do hope that someday you will come to like me and we can be friends.”
Meg squeezed her arm gently, and then she turned to walk to the shopkeeper. “Mr. Evans, how wonderful to see you again!”
But as Opal came back, Adelaide couldn’t help but stare at Meg. The directness she had just encountered wasn’t something she was accustomed to. Nor were the feelings that directness had inspired, feelings toward the duchess, but also toward Graham.
Graham thundered through the park on his horse, urging the mount to go faster as he sped along the lanes, ignoring the glares of the other park-goers. His mind was spinning too quickly not to move his body just as fast.
Almost like he was going to outrun something. Only he couldn’t.
He had made love to Lydia Ford less than twenty-four hours before. And it had been spectacular, and yet he couldn’t help but feel…troubled. Incomplete, no matter how satisfying he’d found the experience.
He didn’t like it. He liked when things were neat and careful and well planned.
“Exactly why your life is such a tangle right now,” he grunted to himself, slowing Samson as he steered the animal onto one of the forested paths that went farther into the wooded parts of the park. Alongside the riders, walkers strolled. Ladies with parasols, gentlemen with canes. They were all there to see and to be seen.
Graham felt very exposed as he rode through them, knowing their eyes turned on him. Knowing their whispers addressed the scandal he couldn’t escape. Except, it seemed, when he was with Lydia.
He glanced up the road and his eyes fell on the form of a lady standing on the grass with her maid. For a moment, his heart leapt, for he thought certain it was Lydia herself. But then the lady turned and he jolted again as he recognized the too-tight chignon, the spectacles perched on a fine nose.
“Great God!” he called out as he slowed his horse to a stop and swung down. “Lady Adelaide.”
She gasped as he stepped toward her and then glanced over her shoulder into the grassy area. Her maid met her eyes and then she smiled as she stepped away a step or two. Close enough to call them chaperoned, far enough that they could talk.
“Your Grace,” Adelaide said, her tone a bit breathless. “I-I did not expect to see you here.”
“I haven’t ridden in the park for some time,” he admitted. “Too many eyes, rather like a ball. But I needed air today. I needed to think.”
She turned her face away slightly. “I see.”
“What brings you out?” he asked. “You aren’t alone, are you?”
Her lips pursed slightly and a look of resignation crossed her face. He found he didn’t like the change. It made him want to…fix whatever was bothering her somehow.
A ridiculous notion.
Adelaide glanced over her shoulder again. “My aunt likes to take a walk in the park each day at this time. Often she insists I join her, though she finds any excuse to walk off from me.”
Graham followed her line of vision and saw a rather severe-looking woman standing in a group of other ladies, talking. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray and she was almost rail-thin. Despite that, he could see a bit of Adelaide in her, though he far preferred his companion to her aunt.
“How long have you lived with her?” he asked, finding himself truly interested in the answer, not just making small talk.
Adelaide sucked in a breath, almost imperceptible except that he was so entirely focused on her in that moment. Then she said, “My parents died when I was ten. I’ve lived with my aunt ever since.”
There was a pain in her voice that was so palpable that it stung him. It sounded like his own pain when it came to those he’d lost.
“How?” he asked softly. “If you don’t mind sharing.”
She stared up at him for what felt like a lifetime, and he could see she was trying to decide if she should tell him. If she trusted him. If he was playing a game with her, as she had accused him of the night he’d danced with her at the ball.
“A fever,” she said at last. “He first, she a few days later.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it with all his heart. “Losing one parent is hard enough. To lose two that you loved…” He trailed off, and now she looked at him more closely. Like she could see he was a kindred spirit in loss. Which, of course, he was. He could also see her desire to press him more on the subject. His body clenched and he turned away. “Fine weather we’re having.”
She hesitated and then nodded. “Indeed. I’ve never seen an autumn so fine. I suppose it is why all the peacocks are out on display. Soon the rain and cold will force them back indoors where they can only preen in time to music.”
He laughed at her dry judgment. “You have a fine view on those of our class.”
She shrugged. “When one observes from afar, I suppose one cannot help but judge. Perhaps I’m too harsh.”
“No, I think you’re spot on. We’re all trained to display, as you say.” He shook his head. “It does get tiresome. To always be…performing.”
She caught her breath a second time, and when he looked at her, her eyes were wide beneath her spectacles and her hands trembled ever so slightly at her sides. He might have asked her about it, for the reaction took him aback, but before he could, she glanced over her shoulder once more.
“Oh, bollocks, here she comes,” she muttered.
His eyes went wide at her unexpected curse, and he looked at her aunt was coming toward them. The woman did look angry to see her niece talking to him.
“Is she so very bad as that?” he whispered. “I would think she’d like to see you talking with a duke.”
Adelaide shot him a glare. “Quite full of ourselves, aren’t we?”
He smiled in the hopes it would calm her a little. “Always, my dear. Dear God, she does look cross.”
Adelaide nodded. “She does.” She could say no more, though, for the lady had reached them at last. “Aunt Opal, I do hope your talk with your friends was pleasant. Are you acquainted with the Duke of Northfield?”
“Your Grace,” Lady Opal said with a chill to her tone that could have frozen a man’s ballocks in a heartbeat.
Graham bowed his head. “My lady. I was passing through the park and saw Lady Adelaide standing by the path. I wanted to say hello.”
“And so you have,” Lady Opal said, her eyes narrowing even further.
Graham shifted, for the sendoff she was giving was perfectly clear. He wasn’t accustomed to such a thing. Chaperones always liked dukes. There was hardly a better thing for their charges to land.
But Lady Opal looked heated and Adelaide looked slightly sick as she stared at him, her gaze telling him without words that if he left it would make it easier on her.
So he bowed again. “Well, I should be off and leave you two to your walk. I hope I shall have the pleasure of your company again, ladies.”
“Goodbye, Gr—Your Grace,” Adelaide said softly. Her aunt merely sniffed and Graham remounted and urged his horse onward down the path. But he couldn’t help a quick glance back toward Adelaide.
Nor could he ignore the fact that during the moments he’d stood with her, he hadn’t once thought of Lydia. And he wasn’t thinking of her now as he carried on, wondering at Lady Opal’s coldness and at the pleasure he took in spending even just a moment with her charge.
“What is your trouble today?”
Graham stared at the note written in Ewan’s even handwriting and tried to collect himself before he looked up into his friend’s face. They were sitting in Graham’s office together and he knew he wasn’t good company. His mind was too…wild. He couldn’t seem to rein it in from wandering to thoughts of soft skin, blonde hair, and a night that was unlike anything he’d ever encountered in his nearly three decades on this earth.
That was one trouble. The other was more complicated. Because he also couldn’t stop thinking of another woman, this one with a sharp wit and unexpected insight. One who could and did easily set him down like he wasn’t a duke. Like he was just a man. And he liked it.
It had been two days since he’d seen either of them, but they both dominated his thoughts. His dreams. Sometimes they even merged together in a most troubling and erotic fashion.
He met Ewan’s eyes and saw nothing but calm and gentle and trustworthy friendship in them. He’d always been able to talk to him, even sometimes more than James and Simon. And it wasn’t just because his muteness kept him from interrupting. It was that Ewan truly listened. Heard.
“Do I have a trouble?” he asked. Ewan didn’t write anything but screwed up his face in an exasperated expression that said everything. Graham laughed despite himself and said, “Well, I might have a problem, I suppose.”
Ewan wrote, “Which is?”
“I-I…” He hesitated, for the moment he said the next words out loud, he was going to have to face them. Really face them. “I want two women.”
Ewan’s eyes bugged and he opened and shut his mouth a few times before he slowly took his pad back and wrote, “Well, I suppose I should be happy you want to get back into the world. Though you certainly don’t waste time. I guess you and Roseford could talk about that.”
Graham stiffened. “No, I don’t mean two women the way Roseford likes to have two women. Anyway, I thought Roseford was more interested in sharing a woman with a friend. His friend, not hers. Either way, that isn’t what I’m talking about.”
Ewan shrugged, and it was the indication that Graham should continue.
“I mean, I’m attracted to two different women.” Now the words were out and he recognized how true they were.
Ewan scribbled, “I assume one is the actress?”
“Yes,” Graham said, running a hand through his hair. “Lydia Ford. Was I so obvious?”
Ewan nodded and Graham laughed again.
“Yes, I suppose I was that first night you and Tyndale took me to the theatre. But it’s gone beyond a mere distant attraction. I went to her again two nights ago.” He shook his head. “And I…I couldn’t resist her anymore. We…well, we did what you would expect we’d do.”
He could have given more details, but he chose not to. Ewan wasn’t the type to want to know about the women his friends bedded. Even if he were, Graham felt reluctant to share this time. What had happened with Lydia was powerful, special. If he talked about it to a friend, it felt like cheapening the night.
Cheapening her.
“She has secrets,” he said instead. “I feel them. And I know that she’s also doing something that isn’t exactly safe, so I feel this desire to protect her.”
Ewan’s expression softened and he nodded as he wrote, “You would, though.”
Graham flinched. Only a handful of his friends knew the truth of his past. James, Simon…Ewan. And Kit, who had once kept Graham from actually murdering his own father. But every time he was reminded that someone had a glimpse into his true soul, it made him uncomfortable.
Ewan seemed to sense his reluctance to continue that line of discussion and scribbled, “Who is the other woman who has your attention?”
He sighed. “It’s, er, Lady Adelaide. She’s the daughter of the late Earl of Longford. Emma’s good friend.”
Ewan just stared at him, making no move to write anything at all. Graham shifted as the silence stretched out. Then Ewan very slowly and deliberately wrote, “The wallflower. You want a wallflower?”
Graham ground his teeth. “First, you should talk, duke who never goes to a damned party. If there was ever a male wallflower, it’s you.”
Ewan glared at him, but waved him to continue.
“And the fact is, she is more than just that silly label.” He got up and paced away from Ewan. “She’s intelligent and direct. To a fault with both. She wears her hair too tight and I’m not even sure she needs those spectacles that block her eyes so you’re not really certain what’s going on in her mind.”
Talking about her made him picture her and his gut tightened as he continued, “She’s a wonderful dancer though she never does it, which makes her too like me. She’s frustrating beyond measure because sometimes I feel she is willfully misunderstanding me. She’s not my type, you’re right about that. She’s not my type, though to be honest, I really don’t know what my ‘type’ is anymore. Regardless of all that I…like her. And if I’m honest with myself, I want her.”
He sank back into his chair and let the full effect of that statement hit him. He’d spent a powerful night making love to Lydia, and yet less than forty-eight hours later he could admit that he wanted Adelaide, as well.
He liked both of them. He desired both of them. And that was highly uncomfortable. After all, he had been suffering the past few months because of a betrayal of loyalty. But where was the loyalty in these complicated feelings that now brewed inside of him?
“That is a pickle,” Ewan wrote, summarizing Graham’s issue in one rather dismissive line.
Graham nearly threw the notepad back at him. “So helpful, Donburrow, really. That clears it up, I’ll just go about my business.”
Ewan was laughing now, a rare act that shook his body even if it was noiseless and brightened his usually somber face. “I’m sorry,” he wrote, his handwriting shaky from his humor. “What do you wish me to say?”
“Tell me what to do?” Graham said with a shake of his head. “You’re so much bloody smarter than the rest of us put together, you must have a thought.”
Ewan’s expression changed, just a flash of emotion before he smoothed it away. He was still a moment, then he wrote, “Connection isn’t the place where I’m particularly clever, but it seems to me that you are missing pieces in your relationship with each of these women. With Lydia, you don’t know her secrets. Her true personality or life. And with Adelaide she keeps you at a distance physically. Like the glasses you say she wears that she doesn’t need. A barrier, yes? A line she won’t let you cross?”
“You really are the smartest of us,” Graham muttered. “Yes, I think that’s it. There is a boundary between each of us. Are you suggesting that I cross those boundaries with each woman?”
Ewan nodded.
“And what happens if I still want both of them?” he asked as he tried to picture kissing Adelaide the same way he kissed Lydia. Finding he could do it quite easily and hating himself for it.
Ewan shrugged. “Then come back and we’ll talk about it some more.”
Graham bent his head. He’d spent his life, at least his life up until the past few months, always being certain of what he did. Now he wasn’t certain of anything.
And he wasn’t sure if that was freeing or horrifying. He would likely have to decide before he approached either woman again.