Chapter 25 #2
“In truth, I did not expect to feel so supported. But at every turn, you seem determined to make my dreams come true without expecting anything in return.” The words tumbled from Adele’s mouth before she could stop them. “No one has ever done what you have done for me.”
“Have you ever given them the chance?” Warner asked.
Adele felt a lump form in her throat as she thought of the times she had wanted such things from her family, from her parents. She could still remember the day when she had simply stopped asking.
“At a certain point, one runs out of chances to give,” Adele replied.
Warner’s voice held an edge, but Adele could not place it. “Then I am glad you have given me a chance.”
“I did not need to. Or rather, you have not given me a choice.” Adele smiled at him.
“You just do things. I mentioned to you the other day that lilies were my favourite flower, the next day there was a vase of them in my sewing room. Though, perhaps you are only making the room so nice to keep me from bothering you.”
I thought all women wished to be swept off their feet. Warner’s words echoed around her head. Mingling with the answer she had longed to give him. Then sweep me.
“I just like to see you smile.” The words seemed to have tumbled from Warner’s mouth, and Adele noticed a flush to his skin, and the fingers on his left hand twitched.
“I like your smile too. It is surprisingly sweet,” Adele said without thinking.
“I have always thought I had rather an unpleasant smile — that it was thin and hard and not really convincing.”
“You are confusing your smirk with your smile. They are not the same. Besides, I am speaking of your real smile. The one that is slightly crooked and that makes your eyes dance.” The one that sends my stomach into roiling fervour. Adele tried to keep the emotions from her face.
“You have been watching me rather closely.” Warner’s tone was light and teasing, but his eyes had the dark, intense hunger in them.
Adele swallowed, suppressing the shiver that threatened to steal over her. “No closer than you watch me.”
The air thickened around them, Warner’s eyes holding Adele’s firmly in place. The sound of laughter drifted around them, mingling with the clink of mugs on the table and the sound of the fiddler’s music.
“Is zat… Scarfield?” A drunken voice broke through the tension.
Adele turned to see a man stumbling towards them, his hand outstretched in greeting. She heard Warner let out a low curse and then felt his warm fingers clasp over hers.
“That is Baron Velsitter.” Warner shuddered. “I do not think a more boring man has ever drawn breath. Perhaps if we ignore him, he will go away.”
“We could do that…” Adele gave him a sidelong look as she stood up. “Or we could run.”
“Run?” Warner canted his head towards her, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “A duke never runs.”
“But tonight, you are not a duke.” Adele let her hand drift across Warner’s chest.
Warner chuckled, took her hand, and pulled her towards the street. Adele could hear a shout behind them, but she did not care. A burst of delighted laughter escaped her, mingling with Warner’s.
They burst from the pub and ran towards their London house, Warner holding her hand in his and laughing like a school boy. It filled the night air, warming Adele against the wind that whipped at her hair and cheeks.
“You are a bad influence, Duchess,” Warner called.
“I try,” Adele answered breathlessly.
Adele stumbled, and Warner was there in an instant, catching her before she could fall. He was breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed and a wild delight in his eyes.
The smell of sandalwood washed over Adele. Her head spun as she steadied herself against the firm muscles of Warner’s chest. She could feel his heart thunder against her fingertips. Or was that hers?
“Are you all right?” He panted.
“Yes.” She looked up at him, still laughing as she tried to catch her breath.
His arms were wrapped tightly around her. She could see the faintest hint of stubble on his jaw and reached out to touch it without thinking.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. Her eyes found his. Her lips parted. There was less than a hairs breadth between them. His fingers brushed against her cheek as he swept a lock of hair from her face.
“Warner,” Adele breathed.
The warmth of him was at odds with the cold in the air, but she scarcely noticed. She closed her eyes, her heavy breathing mingled with his. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest.
Something clattered, and Warner jerked away from her, pulling Adele behind him as he did. Her head spun.
“Your Grace?” Adele recognised the voice.
All the laughter and giddy anticipation dissolved. Instead, anger filled Adele, blood thundering in her ears as she moved away from Warner. “What are you doing here, Mrs. Patmore?”
“I wished to speak to you, Duchess Scarfield.” Mrs. Patmore swallowed, wringing her hands.
“And what makes you think I have any wish to hear anything you have to say?” Adele’s voice was so cool it surprised her. Were you the one who made up that story about me? Is it because you thought I had hurt Martha?
“Please, Your Grace.” Mrs. Patmore’s eyes darted from left to right like a cornered animal. “I am sorry! Sorry for everything. We were wrong to treat you the way we did.”
“It is a little late for apologies, Mrs. Patmore. I told you that I did not want to speak to you again.” Adele moved past the woman, walking towards the house. “That has not changed.”
“Your Grace!” Mrs. Patmore’s voice filled with desperation. “You need to listen to what I have to say. I am begging you.”
Cold anger filled Adele, and she was about to snap at the woman, to tell her to leave her alone when Warner put a hand on her arm. She looked at him, but he was not looking at her — instead he was staring at Mrs. Patmore.
“What exactly have you come here to say?” The coldness in Warner’s voice made the chilly evening air feel like a warm summer’s day. “Have you come to confess that it was you who went to the papers?”
“No. I would not do that. None of us would have — it would have disgraced His Lordship and his memory. And it would have put Martha — it has put her in all sorts of danger.” Mrs. Patmore’s lip trembled, and she shook her head.
“I don’t know who said those lies about you, but I swear on my mother’s grave that it was not me nor any of the other servants. ”
Adele looked into the woman’s eyes and let out a shaky breath. The servants loved Martha and Eric too dearly to do this. “I believe you.”
Mrs. Patmore’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Then you will listen to me?”
“Yes. But not here.” Adele gestured towards the house. “I think this is a conversation that is best had inside.”
Without waiting for an answer, Adele swept past Mrs. Patmore and walked into the house. Her head spun, and she leaned a hand against the wall to steady herself. Warner was not behind her. He was speaking to Mrs. Patmore and then to their servants.
He did not rest a hand on her back as he walked past her. He did not reach for her. He barely looked at her as he walked into the drawing room.
Dread stole over Adele’s heart.