Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Adelaide lifted her head from her mending at the sound of horses approaching.
Her usual spot in the parlor might not afford her a view of the grounds, but her hearing managed to inform her well enough about her husband’s whereabouts.
Adelaide held her breath as the hoofbeats slowed, breathing easy only after the galloping had been replaced by a jumble of human voices.
Richard was back. And he would be home for the remainder of the day.
No matter what haunted him at night, his mornings remained unaffected—at least, for the moment.
Adelaide sighed as she tried to refocus on her needlework. Windles and Nexton saw to most of the mending their masters needed, but Adelaide liked putting her hand to more purposeful tasks than embroidery. There were far too many real problems in life to dwindle one’s time away in ornamentation.
She focused her mind while her fingers picked at an uneven stitch. As mistress of Granville, Adelaide was sovereign over almost anyone in the household—everyone, except her husband. And her inability to exert control over him only magnified her ever-confusing thoughts about the man she’d married.
The disparity in their rising hours meant that Richard was almost certainly out with his horse, and sometimes his brother, each time Adelaide was about to begin her day.
And while that occasional absence used to provide her a small degree of relief, as it implied respite from having to formulate more excuses for her own distance, it only ever managed to tighten her nerves since their return from London.
Having Harold around helped. For she rested more easy knowing that Richard was not alone in his bruising rides—for they had to be bruising given the state he usually was in upon his return.
And yet Adelaide could not help wondering if having a guest only delayed their reckoning of the problems in their marriage—if it could be called a marriage at all.
Most days, she felt more like a ward than a wife, a woman trapped in her concern for a person who remained at arm’s length.
But, perhaps, she only had herself to blame for that.
She let down her needle with a sigh and lifted the coat to examine. If she couldn’t help Richard with his innermost thoughts, the least she could do was to assist him with his outermost trappings.
“Is that my coat?”
Adelaide lowered the article of clothing at her husband’s voice, her eyes quickly darting to his face to search for clues about his mood. At least he appeared more puzzled than offended. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped.
“There was a rip at the back after your ride two days ago,” Adelaide explained. She almost lifted the coat around to show him, but it was heavy, and almost as tall as her entire person. “As I have seen you wear it often, I thought it might be a favorite—and thought to mend it.”
“I do not see why you ought to.”
Her heart twisted. “My apologies. I did not mean to cause offense.”
“No, not offense.” Richard strode towards her in sure, long steps, stopping short of the couch. Fresh from his morning exercise, he emanated power and masculinity. He also, quite frankly, dripped with sweat. “Surely, Nexton can manage such a thing.”
“Your valet is busy tending to both you and Harold these two weeks.” She tried to sound unaffected by his questioning words.
Did he not welcome her help? “And I promise you it shall be done with utmost care. I have always been comfortable with mending and have done copious amounts of it through the years.”
“Is that what your aunt made you do for her?” Concern quickly passed over his features, and Adelaide’s heart twisted again for entirely different reasons.
She tried to smile, for both their sakes. “Mending is not at all the same as hard labor, Richard. It is a perfectly genteel thing to do, and I find it pleasant to be of use.”
“I do not wish to tax you after your recent ordeal.”
“My ordeal?”
“What with everything that happened with Macy and Mr. Bamburst. I myself have night—that is, I worry at night, and during the day, for their—for their well-being.”
“Mr. Bamburst’s well-being is neither my concern nor my desire. And I know I can trust that Macy is well.”
“Of course. I did not intend to imply otherwise. I apologize.”
“Please do not.” She leaned forward towards him. “I have slept so much better at night knowing that Macy’s safety is assured.”
He seemed to take a moment to weigh her sincerity before nodding. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I only hope that you—” She considered her words before continuing, “that you are having equally restful nights.”
He paused before inclining his head in an almost-nod this time. “Thank you.”
She wondered for a moment if she had overstepped in an entirely different way and scrambled for another topic of conversation. “If you need your coat sooner, I can try my best to—”
“Please, take all the time you need.” There was a gentle coarseness to his voice that enthralled her. He smiled now, every bit the gallant gentleman who had once called on her in London. “But I look forward to wearing it—once you deem it time.”
It was difficult to know if he spoke only of his coat, or of something more.
Richard surveyed the view just as Harold pulled up beside him. What had begun as a way to pass the time with his brother had turned into a pleasant part of his morning routine over the past three weeks’ time, and he was almost reluctant to have Harold departing within the day.
“Do you have to leave so soon?” Richard was surprised to find himself sounding like his younger self, wondering why his older brothers were taking off to school one by one.
“I do if I want to remain in Clara’s good graces.
” Harold laughed between short breaths. He never had been the horseman in the family.
“It seems that the latest addition to Lord and Lady Rodworth’s family came in a pair, and it has been decided that the older children ought to join their Avington cousins in Nottinghamshire for the meantime, for everyone’s respite.
And since Clara and Rachel have been drafted to join, then so must I. ”
“I fail to see how a landscape artist can improve the company of a gaggle of women and children.”
Harold chuckled again. “You would be surprised, brother mine, how a man’s company can improve a home. I understand that Father had never been the present sort of parent, but there is value in showing one’s affections more openly.”
Richard almost shuddered. “Not everyone is a poet.”
“Perhaps not. Yet one does not need to be a poet to express one’s feelings in a more candid sort of way.”
“Hardly manly, is it?”
“Do you insult my masculinity now?” Harold grinned first before sobering. “It might do you some good, you know—to express affection.”
Richard sighed internally. He used to be more open-mannered—before Catherine died, before the war, before he had grown disillusioned with London society.
“I am kind to my wife.”
“You are,” said Harold, “and gallant too. Every bit the gentleman.”
“Then I fail to see the problem.”
“For some, that might be enough.” They turned their horses as they spoke. “But for a marriage between near strangers—a bit of tenderness might not go amiss.”
Richard let the subtle advice nudge at his heart. He’d concluded as much before their recent London visit. But somehow, it was always so much easier to fall into the role of a protector than a suitor. At least a protector was always welcome.
It was difficult to court one’s wife when one couldn’t be certain of one’s reception. A spurned lover might turn for comfort in the arms of another. A scorned husband could not in good faith do the same.
“I shall think upon your sage advice,” Richard answered. He directed his horse towards the main house. “Shall we race our way back?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm losing to you one more time.”
They exchanged grins before letting their mounts take off. They had not wandered far today, not with Harold’s impending departure limiting their schedule. But the distance did not prevent Richard from gaining good speed.
As expected, he closed the miles first, his victory certain. He gave Onyx his head, allowing the mount to navigate the now-familiar territory. After over a month of daily riding, there was little that could still surprise him about this route.
And yet surprised he was today by the sudden, unexpected sight of Adelaide walking out to meet them just around the last turn, a smile on her face and Richard’s coat on her arm.
Richard guided Onyx quickly to make a larger turn, and the horse responded immediately, their battle-forged bond proving true.
Richard eased their speed, slowing down a safe enough distance from the stables, though closer than he usually did.
But the sound of determined, rushing hoofbeats persisted. Harold—who had been trailing the whole ride, on a horse not his own—had no way of seeing his sister-in-law’s slight figure before his rushing horse was already at the turn.
“Halt! Halt!” Richard called out as he tried to approach once more.
He clutched his reins tight, heart pounding, as Harold finally caught sight of Adelaide, far too late to slow his stubborn mount.
Adelaide shrieked. Harold cried out. And Richard urged Onyx forward.
If he could only cut between them, Onyx should be able to distract the other horse enough to—
Harold’s horse reared. Onyx followed suit, abruptly interrupting Richard’s single-minded race for Adelaide’s safety.
And while Harold, a man with limited skills on horseback and yet a seemingly endless stream of luck, kept his seat, Colonel Avington of His Majesty’s army found himself tossed clean off his saddle and into the air.