Chapter 7
Seven
“Oh, Martha, good. I was hoping to run into you.” Adele smiled at the servant. “Though not so literally of course.”
It was the day after her encounter with the Duke, and she had woken with a restlessness in her that she could not quite understand. Just the thought of it made her heart quicken, and she swallowed, remembering the way he had grown flustered over his drink.
He was like an entirely different person. Was that the truth of him? Or was the cold, controlling block of marble the real duke? The questions had tumbled around in her head until she had run into Martha. I might as well try and talk to her; I have put it off long enough.
She tried not to think about how it would be a welcome distraction from her thoughts of the Duke.
“Of course, My Lady.” Martha’s voice was polite but distant as she walked into the drawing room. “Was there something in particular you required?”
Adele swallowed as she closed the door. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I am sorry we have not had a chance to speak before now.”
“You need not apologise, My Lady. I am but a humble servant, and no doubt you had more… important things to do.” Adele saw the woman’s fingers twitch and heard the faint note of bitterness in her words.
Adele reached towards her, but Martha jerked away. “You are more than a servant.”
“That is kind of you to say, Your Ladyship, but I know my place.” Martha’s smile was thin and reedy, her eyes flashing with something darker.
Adele winced. “I know what you meant to him. I can only imagine how hard this is for you. If you need anything, anything at all, you need only ask.”
“There is nothing you can offer that I need.” Martha took a step back, curling her hands into fists.
“I will do whatever I can to keep you and your baby safe; that is what he would have wanted.”
“It matters little what he wanted.” Martha shook her head. “His dream died with him. The reality is that I am an unmarried servant. You are his widow.”
“Martha, I—” Adele began but the servant cut her off.
“If that is all, My Lady, then I will take my leave of you. I have work to do.” She placed emphasis on the word work. “The estate does not run itself, and it seems like you have a guest.”
“What?” Adele turned around at the same moment as the smell of sandalwood washed over her.
Duke Scarfield was walking towards her, his familiar strong and commanding steps echoing in the hall. He arched an eyebrow at her as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“I believe it is rather customary to wait to be announced rather than inviting yourself into someone’s home.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I thought you did not set great stock by custom?” He shrugged. “I assure you, I will be here no longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Good.”
“I will just retrieve the books from the library, and then I will be on my way.” He nodded towards the door behind her.
“The library?” Her heart sank, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“That is where books tend to live, is it not?” The Duke took a step towards the door, and Adele moved in front of him.
“I know that I… It… How urgently do you need these?” She wrung her hands.
“Would I be here if it was not urgent?”
“I suppose not.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No. I mean… Not exactly. It is just… Oh well, I suppose you will see soon enough.” She sighed and flung open the door, revealing the chaos inside.
There were several bolts of fabric scattered across the room and a few half-finished dresses hung off mannequins. Her sketches were strewn all over the desk, nearly hiding her sewing kit.
“I did not know the modiste did home visits.” Duke Scarfield looked around the room. “I am surprised she left her sewing kit here.”
“She did not. All of this…” She gestured around them, wishing she had cleaned up. “It is mine. This is something of a work room for me.”
“You mean to tell me that you made these?” The Duke’s eyes widened, and he picked up one of the half-finished gowns as he looked over her sketches. “And the sketches, they are yours as well?”
“Yes.” She braced herself for the inevitable mockery, but it never came.
He nodded to himself. “Where did you learn this? Most women I know have some skill with sewing, but dressmaking? That list could fit on two hands.”
“I have always loved dressmaking. The different things one can do with fabric, a bit of clever stitching, and there are so many interesting things coming out of the continent and–” she cut herself off, flushing as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Sorry, I doubt you want to hear about it.”
“No, you are… It is rather endearing to see you so excited about something. Your whole face lights up.” His blue eyes met hers, and her flush deepened. “Have you ever been to France?”
Adele shook her head. “No. Travelling to the continent is not really something one does as an unmarried woman. We do not get the gentleman’s tour. Perhaps one day I will get there, but… well, for now, I have my books and magazines.”
“You would love Paris. It is so vibrant and full of life. I can picture you studying with some of the great designers. Though perhaps it would be best to visit when things are more settled.” Duke Scarfield ran a hand through his hair. “These gowns are very bold; are they all for you?”
“No. This one is for Verity.” She pointed to a stylishly cut green silk gown.
“The blue one is for Rowen — I thought it would bring out her eyes — and well, the black is for Cora. She never wears anything else, but I have discovered a way to weave in some silver thread to at least give it a little sparkle.”
“I am sure they will love them.” He put a hand over hers as she rested it on the gowns, and Adele’s heart quickened.
She swallowed, breathing deeply, and the scent of his cologne washed over her. She moved away, her head swivelling slightly as she did. “I hope so. I wanted to do something nice for them. They have given me so much, but well, perhaps they will think it vain of me.”
“I doubt they will. It is clear how much you care for them; why else would you put so much effort into their gifts?” He gestured around them.
“Finding their measurements has been the hardest part. In truth, I may have snuck a peak into the modiste’s books while I was waiting for them to finish their orders.”
“Rather wily of you, Lady Adelaide.”
“Lady Adele, please. I have always hated being called Adelaide.” Adele was not sure why she had said that. I do not even like the Duke.
“Lady Adele.” The Duke sounded out her name, and it felt like a physical touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He looked down at the sketches. “And do you ever design dresses for yourself?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
Adele shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. “I… Well, there just never seems to be time. And I would rather make things for my friends than for myself.”
“They are no more important than you are.” The Duke’s voice was surprisingly soft. “Do not give to others at the expense of yourself. You deserve beautiful things as well.”
“I know, but that does not mean I must make them.” Adele’s voice caught, and she was taken by surprise by the lump in her throat.
“I suppose it does not.” For a moment, Adele thought the Duke was going to close the distance between them, but he did not.
Silence settled between them so thick she could cut it with a knife. Adele swallowed and looked at the bookshelves. “We should find those books.”
“Yes.” The Duke cleared his throat. “We should.”
They turned from each other, and though they did not speak again. Adele was aware of his presence beside her, and to her surprise and alarm, she did not find it discomforting.