Chapter 11 #2
“An aunt, you mean, who defrauds her nieces of a dowry—a criminal offense.”
Adelaide’s breath caught, as did Macy’s beside her. A few feet away, Aunt Dinah’s face slowly turned a deep vermillion.
“You relinquished it,” she said.
“Because I knew it no longer existed.” Richard spoke with measured, deadly calm. “Contrary to what you, or Mr. Bamburst here, might think—I did not enter this marriage sight unseen. The fact that I never demanded for her dowry did not mean that I did not know there was supposed to be one.”
Aunt Dinah fidgeted, silent for once. Even Mr. Bamburst appeared genuinely shocked.
Richard turned to Adelaide. His features and voice softened. “Now, darling, do you think an hour enough to pack your sister’s things?”
Adelaide relished her answer. “Certainly, husband.”
The fire hummed low in the library hearth by the time the mantelpiece clock struck nine that evening. Richard took the last sip of his brandy and slipped the empty glass onto the side table. He breathed deeply.
He had no claim of ownership over any part of Avington House, but his eldest brother Alfred had always reiterated how welcome they all were to stay at the large mansion whenever any of them were in London. Today, of all days, Richard treasured the privilege.
The sound of soft footsteps outside the library temporarily distracted him. Was that Adelaide?
Richard scoffed at his own wishful thinking.
His wife might have looked at him with grateful or even admiring eyes when they were rescuing Macy from Miss Ravenstone this afternoon.
But when had he ever been more than just a savior to her?
Despite having witnessed all his brothers find love matches, despite having seen the bonds of gratitude that formed between soldiers who saw each other through the dangers of life and death—Richard had proven remarkably incapable of differentiating between the two when it came to his own life.
Adelaide and Macy might both have thanked him emphatically the entire way to Avington House. Adelaide might even have agreed with her sister when Macy said she was so happy Adelaide had married Richard.
But happiness hardly equated with affection.
Richard sighed deeply, frustrated at his own brooding manners.
Harold, the artist, or even little James, now a vicar, had always been the more emotionally sensitive brothers.
Richard was the soldier, for goodness’s sake!
How was it that he was the one drinking by himself, pining for his young wife like a fool?
Most soft footsteps echoed outside, followed by a gentle rap at the door. Richard groaned. Now he was imagining things.
But instead of drifting away, the rap repeated itself before the door snicked open.
Richard glanced to the side, expecting a servant coming to stoke the fire, and paused at the sight of his wife.
“Adelaide.” He stood. She walked slowly towards him. “How is Macy?”
“Well.” Adelaide smiled. She appeared calmer now, the agitation that had wrapped around her like a mantle the past few days finally lifted. “May I—may I join you?”
The request surprised him, though not unpleasantly.
“Certainly.” He reached for the decanter. “Do you need a glass as well?”
Adelaide seemed to notice his drink for the first time, and her features temporarily clouded before she shook her head. “There is no need.”
“Shall we—” Should he be treating her like a guest, or a friend? “Will you sit?”
“Yes, please.”
Primly, she lowered herself onto the chair beside his. Richard resumed his previous spot. The fire burned even lower, casting the room mostly into a lulling darkness.
“I take it you wish to discuss Macy’s prospects?” He cast a sidelong glance her way.
For once, the subtle courage he remembered from the former Miss Pershing seemed to return. Her back straightened, her gaze grew firmer, and she nodded. “I would very much appreciate it.”
Richard nodded. He would much rather discuss their prospects as a married couple, but there were certain things that needed to be addressed first.
“I have considered whether it is wise for us to bring her with us to Granville. But given her age, I thought that she might still reap the benefits of a proper education. One of my sisters-in-law knows a friend who established a finishing school for young women in Cambridgeshire. They accept students without too much fuss regarding their background, all while training them to be genteel.” He spoke continuously, almost defensively.
“I was thinking that perhaps we could take a slight bit of a detour upon our return to establish her there.”
There was no immediate answer, and Richard feared he was overstepping. He looked up a few moments later.
Adelaide’s expression gave little away.
Richard breathed in. “Would that—be amenable for you?”
Slowly, his wife’s posture softened. “It would be everything wonderful, of course—but the funds for such a thing—”
“Would be covered entirely by me, of course.”
Now, she looked surprised. “You would spend such an amount—on Macy?”
Was this how Adelaide had been raised—scrimping and saving and being thought unworthy of expense? Or was this only the case with Macy? Richard’s chest tightened at the thought of either young lady being made to feel so wholly undervalued.
“She is your sister, is she not?”
“Yes, but not fully.”
“If you think her your sister, then her origins need not matter.”
“Her father was a footman.” Adelaide’s hands flew up to cover her own mouth, as if surprised by her own revelation, before she lowered them once more. “My father—was not a good man.”
Richard nodded wordlessly, eager not to rock the boat.
“And when my mother had nowhere to turn, she—” Adelaide sniffed.
“She took solace in the arms of a servant.”
“I don’t wholly know. I was too young to understand.
” Adelaide sighed deeply. Richard had seen her vulnerable before—although mostly in a physical sense.
This vulnerability of the soul was something entirely new.
“But I knew my mother wept constantly, and I knew what my parents quarreled about when they—”
She choked up, as if unable to bring into words whatever it was. Richard’s arms ached for her, but would she welcome his touch now that immediate danger had passed?
The clock struck half past nine by the time she calmed enough to speak again. “I am uncertain if a school would be willing to accept Macy.”
“This one will,” Richard said with confidence. “And if they do not, then we shall find one that would. The faults of her parents should never rob a young woman from the opportunities she deserves. A person is worthy of love and life and learning regardless of the circumstances of his or her birth.”
“O Richard!”
And suddenly, Adelaide had flung herself across the small distance between them and locked herself securely in his arms.
Richard relished the embrace, pulling her close with the fierce hunger of a man who had longed for his wife for far too long. Adelaide held tight, as did he, and Richard closed his eyes to the rhythm of their hearts beating as one.
He loved her. He loved his wife.
And he would wait and work and do whatever he could to see the dawn of the day she loved him back.
His lips found the side of her head, and he kissed her hair, her brow, and her cheek. She did not stiffen this time, did not pull away like a distant, civil guest in their own home. His kisses trailed further—to her jaw, her neck.
“Richard,” she whispered.
He returned his face upwards—and pulled her mouth to his.
Slowly, deeply, he kissed her, the blood in his veins boiling hotter by the second as she returned his ardor. This was his wife, the woman of his heart. There was nothing that could tear him away from her now.
“Adelaide,” he whispered back. His lips trailing downwards again as his hands moved up her back and her sides.
“Thank you,” she said against his ear, whisper soft—so subtle he very nearly missed it in the midst of his growing desire. “You are the best of men.”
Excruciatingly, Richard willed himself to a pause.
She was grateful. There was nothing wrong with that. It certainly was better than her finding his interference repulsive.
But it was hardly enough for him to take her to his bed, if the only thing that tethered her to him was her gratefulness and that pesky matter of their marriage lines.
Slowly, he pulled back, his hands still anchored around her waist. He smiled at the beauty on his lap. Gently, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Thank you—for trusting me.”
The tearful smile on her face was something he would remember for a very long time.