Chapter 19
Nineteen
“What is this?” Adele frowned at the collection of packages that greeted her as she walked into the drawing room.
It had been several days since her conversation with the Duke, and though they had seen each other at meals, the man had been out of the castle more often than he had been in it.
She had thrown herself into her sewing in a hope to distract herself from whatever was growing between them. Of course, then he had swanned into her room, and now, her mind had been full of what she could make the Duke.
“I believe there is a note with them,” a voice said from behind her, and Adele turned to see one of the footmen indicating a note that was on top of the collection of things.
She moved towards it and took it in her hands. She unfolded it and read:
Adele,
You may not be able to go to France, but that is no reason you should not learn from the masters. I hope these will help you.
Yours,
Warner
Adele stroked the word ‘yours’ reminding herself that Warner was only acting the part of a devoted husband. She folded the note and tucked it away then began to unwrap the first package.
It was a brand new sewing box made of a beautiful dark mahogany with a green velvet basket to store tools and notions.
She opened it, breathing in the scent, her fingers tracing the carefully thought out pockets and compartments.
Then she found a catch, and pressing it, she discovered a hidden compartment with a note in it.
I am no great poet, but allow me to say that your eyes are like poetry to me. Your passion burns so bright, it is a lighthouse when I am the distant ship.
Yours,
W.
P.S. I am told young lovers keep notes in such places and thought you should have one — after all, it is bad luck to give someone an empty box or basket.
Adele laughed, even as her cheeks flushed. She tucked the letter back into the compartment and looked at the rest of the things in the sewing basket.
“Needles, thread, wax. Goodness, he did not.” Her fingers brushed the things, and she knew that he had bought her the very best of everything.
Everything was sturdy, well made, and put her current bits and bobs to shame. Not that they were bad, but what he had filled the box with was miles above what she could have ever afforded.
“I cannot believe he did this.” She unwrapped the next package and found bundles of magazines, all related to fashion.
There were books, some that she had already read and others that she had not even heard of. Each varied in their complexity and subject knowledge and was bound in the most beautiful green leather she had ever seen.
He had given her everything someone might need to make fine gowns, to hone her dressmaking skills and even learn something of tailoring for men.
Her heart swelled, and she took a step back, bumping into the housekeeper as she did.
“I see you found his Grace’s gifts.” Mrs. Streatley smiled, an open and honest smile that was completely at odds with the treatment Adele had come to expect from people.
Adele nodded and sat down on a nearby pouf, her head reeling. Mrs. Streatley was at her side in an instant.
“Are you unwell, Your Grace? I did fear you were working too hard.” Mrs. Streatley’s eyes widened. “I shall send for a drink; a strong cup of tea would do you good.”
“No. That will not be necessary, Mrs. Streatley. I am fine.”
“You look white as a sheet.”
“I am just… I am not used to being treated like this,” Adele admitted, and she noticed the tray in Mrs. Streatley’s arms. “Is that for the Duke?”
“Yes. It is his breakfast.” Mrs. Streatley looked between the tray and Adele. “But he will not mind if it is a little cold; I am sure he would far rather I make sure his Duchess was well.”
“Truly, Mrs. Streatley, you need not worry about me. I was just…” Adele gestured around them. “It was a lot for me to take in, but I am quite recovered now.”
“If you are sure…” Mrs. Streatley looked unconvinced.
“I am. Actually if it is all the same to you, I would like to take His Grace breakfast.” Adele reached for the tray. “I know it is not proper, but it is something my mother often did for my father to show her affection, and well…”
She trailed off, hoping Mrs. Streatley would believe the lie. Though they had agreed that home would be a place where they wouldn’t need to act completely in love, Warner had felt it best not to share the full truth of their arrangement.
Mrs. Streatley’s expression softened, and she gave Adele the tray. “Well, I suppose we can bend propriety just a little. Young hearts in love ought to be encouraged. Though, I will accompany you, if that is all the same; I do not want you to come to any injury.”
“Of course.” Adele took the tray from the woman, and they made their way to the Duke’s study.
She wondered if Mrs. Streatley was being so kind to her out of a genuine warmth or if the Duke had simply instructed all of his servants to treat her like this? It was so different than her time at Kidlington house — it was like night and day.
“Enter.” The Duke’s voice was muffled behind his study door.
Mrs. Streatley opened the door for Adele but did not follow her, instead giving her an encouraging smile from the doorway. Warner looked up at Adele’s footsteps, his blue eyes widening as she entered, and he hastily stood.
“What are you doing with that?” His eyes narrowed. “Did one of the servants ask you to bring this to me — I would not have expected such behavior, but rest assured, I will remind them of their place.”
“No, Warner. I asked if I could bring this to you. I told Mrs. Streatley it was something my mother used to do for my father.”
“And would I be correct in assuming that this has something to do with your sewing room?” Warner let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose I should have expected this.”
“Expected what?” Adele asked, confused by his reaction.
“I want you to know that I am not trying to control you, nor do I expect anything in return, so you may as well save your breath. I was simply trying to give you the tools you need.”
“Do you think I am here to give you a telling off?” Adele shook her head.
“Do I really need to answer that?” He arched an eyebrow at her, the corner of his lip quirking upwards.
“I will have you know that I am actually here to thank you.” She scowled at him and then softened. “I know that I can be… prickly, but really, Warner, I came up here because I wanted you to know just how much I appreciate everything you have done.”
He smiled at her, the expression warming his face in a way that made her heart stumble in her chest. “Then you do not think I am trying to control you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It had not even crossed my mind.”
The words brought her up short because they were true. Even now, as she stood before him, she could not believe that these gifts were anything other than what they were.
If Warner was surprised, he hid it well. He was tapping his fingers on the desk, his eyes watching her intently. Adele canted her head at him. If I did not know better, I would say he was nervous. “I am glad they are to your liking.”
“It is more than that. It is perfect. How on Earth did you know what to get?” Adele asked.
Warner helped himself to a piece of toast and hastily swallowed it, covering his mouth as he said, “I asked around. Mrs. Streatley has a niece who in an apprentice dressmaker, so I asked what things one might need. And I noticed that your current sewing box was looking a little worse for the wear and thought you would be furious if it broke.”
“I have been meaning to get it replaced.” Adele’s cheeks flushed as she thought of the sorry state of her previous sewing box.
“I was actually rather worried about that particular gift. I know these things are rather um… personal. I thought that even if you did not like what I had purchased, you could use it while we sent your old ones for repairs.”
“It seems you thought of everything.”
“Not everything. I have been trying to see if I can find you a private tutor as well though that is proving rather more difficult. Many are full time dressmakers and do not have the time to teach, and having you attend some sort of class is out of the question — the last thing you need is the ton spreading gossip about you.” He shrugged.
“Still, this will be a good start. Or at least I hope it will be.”
“It is a perfect start.” She rested a hand on his tapping fingers, stilling them at her touch. “Honestly, Warner, I do not know how to thank you.”
“Then it is a good thing you do not need to. I meant what I said, I want you to be successful. And I do not expect anything in return. I just —” he stopped himself and then continued, “You should have things in your life that bring you joy.”
“As should you,” she answered, her eyes searching his, full of the question she did not dare ask. What brings you joy, Warner?
“And what makes you think that I do not?” he arched an eyebrow at her, eating another mouthful of toast.
Adele shrugged, but though Warner’s words had been jovial, she could hear something beneath them. She searched his face. “Perhaps I just think you deserve more than you already have.”
“I assure you, Duchess, I have all that I deserve.” He gave her a smile, but it did not quite touch his eyes.
Adele opened her mouth but could not think of anything to say. She realised that her hand was still on his and released it.
“Was there anything else you needed?” Warner asked, drawing his hand back to himself as he ran his fingers across it absently.
Adele shook her head. “No. I just wanted to thank you.”
“And now you have done it.” He smiled at her again; this time his eyes were the perfect blue of a summer sky.
Adele nodded. “I shall let you get back to work.”
As she moved towards the door, she thought she saw him move out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned around, he was looking at the papers on his desk.
She shut the door of the study, her heart full. How could this man, this stranger practically, support her as though it were nothing? He had taken time out of his day to get her things she needed.
More than that, he seemed to believe in her, to want her to succeed.
I have all the joy I deserve.
“There is always room for more.” Adele walked down the stairs. “And if he gets to do such lovely things for me, I should get to do something nice for him. It is only fair.”
She walked down to the kitchen and waved over the cook. “I wanted to do something nice for His Grace. Does he have any favourite meals?”
“Well, he is partial to a good roast beef, Your Grace. He quite likes simple things. But his favourite is a blackberry pie. He has loved it ever since he was a lad.” The cook’s eyes softened.
“Excellent, I trust it will not be too much trouble to arrange the ingredients for this Thursday.”
The cook shook her head. “Not at all Your Grace. I can have the menu changed so that it will pair nicely with the pie.”
“Wonderful.” She smiled at the cook. “Though if you could make sure the meals are reasonably easy to prepare, that would be much appreciated.”
“Oh, you need not worry on my account, Your Grace. A roast and a pie will be no problem for me.” The Cook smiled at her.
“I am sure they would not be.” Adele smiled back. “But I suspect the same cannot be said of me.”
She was going to do something nice for Warner, and she was going to do it herself.