Chapter Fourteen
Adelaide knew the Eastwood brothers had been estranged for years. Alice had told her the horrid tales of fratricide that had plagued the Wintham earldom almost from its very creation. She knew, also, that the brothers had been ensnared by the old lore and had gone a very long time without speaking.
But she hadn’t realized the tension was still firmly in place between them.
She glanced askance at Lady Freesia, who shrugged in response.
“This is progress,” she murmured. “At least they are not brawling on the front lawn.”
They had done exactly that only a month ago, upon their first meeting after years of being apart. Alice had told her that, too, but she needn’t have. Adelaide had witnessed it with her own eyes—although she had kept herself well out of sight.
Still, she could not help but look at Nick with sympathy. It must be dreadful to feel so betrayed by one’s own brother, much less one’s twin. Twins should be above that sort of thing.
And Nick did feel dreadful about it, she was quite sure. Otherwise, he would not be so cruel to Abingdon. His were the actions of a man deeply hurt and unable to express that emotion in a civilized manner. Such were the limitations of manhood, she supposed. Men were incapable of putting their feelings to words.
Or at least Nick was, at any rate.
“You seem to get along with him quite easily,” Lady Freesia remarked.
Adelaide paused, a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth. “That surprises you?”
“Well,” Lady Freesia said thoughtfully, “he is moody and secretive, so that does pose something of an impediment. But he is also very good at fixing things. He never asks what needs to be done. He sees for himself what the problem is, and then he solves it. Very handy, I must say.”
That was an exceedingly apt portrayal of Nick, Adelaide had to admit. Had she not just witnessed it for herself? She had been fighting tears, and he had stopped them. He had not asked why she was crying, or how he could help, or any of the usual things that would only have made her humiliation worse. He had merely solved the problem.
He was a remarkable man.
But still not the man for her.
As if sensing her thoughts, he turned his gaze upon her, eyebrows raised in question. She looked away. It wouldn’t do to stare at him across Wintham’s dinner table with the whole family looking on.
“Do you know,” Lady Freesia went on, “I think you’re foils for each other, the whole lot of you.”
Adelaide blinked. “Pardon?”
“Two sets of twins. You are very similar to Abingdon, you must admit. And Alice and Nick are so very much alike that it is no wonder they don’t get along.” She turned to Adelaide, peering at her with sudden interest. “Your affections do not already belong elsewhere, do they?”
Oh, dear.
“No, my affections belong wholly to myself,” she said with a little laugh.
It wasn’t a lie, so long as she was quite determined to make it true. And she was very determined.
She could still feel his gaze upon her, and her face heated as she focused her attention on her soup.
“I do believe he knows we are discussing him,” Lady Freesia murmured. “See how he stares.”
It would be better if she didn’t.
But she could not resist.
He caught her gaze and held it, an amused smile hovering about his mouth. “Are you enjoying the soup, Miss Bursnell?”
“It’s delicious,” she said. “And you, Mr. Eastwood?”
“It’s my favorite,” he said.
“It was kind of Lady Wintham to remember that,” she said.
He gave her a surprised look, his eyes darting to his mother and back again. “I’m not sure she knew it was my favorite.”
“Of course I knew,” Lady Wintham interrupted. “Or, rather, I hoped it was your favorite still, as it was when you were a boy. Why else would I serve it when my other son hates it? I am sorry for that, Nathaniel,” she added apologetically. “But you will enjoy the other courses.”
“I don’t mind,” Nathaniel said bravely.
Adelaide nearly chuckled at the deadly look Nick shot his brother.
The soup bowls were cleared from the table and replaced with choice cuts of meat. Adelaide suspected at least one of the meats was also a favorite of Nick’s. Lady Wintham seemed determined to make amends with her younger son.
“Miss Bursnell,” Lord Wintham said from his seat at the head of the table, “as you are interested in books, you might like to know there is a lovely circulating library nearby. Or perhaps you have visited there already?”
Adelaide shook her head. “We have been so busy that I haven’t had the opportunity.” She couldn’t keep the wistful note from her voice. How lovely it would be to spend an afternoon in one of the reading rooms!
“I’ll take you there, if you would like.” Nick cut his meat nonchalantly. “There is a novel I should like to rent.”
Lady Freesia puckered her brow. “You don’t read novels. You told me you hadn’t the time to waste on such nonsense.”
“I have it on good authority that Maria Edgeworth is well worth my time. Belinda, in particular, was highly recommended.” His icy blue eyes glimmered in the candlelight.
Adelaide wrenched her gaze away, biting her lip. Oh, he ought not look at her like that! Surely his notice of her was obvious to both their families. What would they think?
Oh.
They would think exactly what he wanted them to think, which was that Nicholas Eastwood had an interest in courting Adelaide Bursnell. That was their game, was it not? To make their families—nay, all of London—believe that a marriage between them would be good and proper, perhaps even a love match?
It was only she who knew the truth.
They were not good. They were certainly not proper.
And love?
It was as much a lie today as it had always been.