Chapter 32 #2
Adelaide could not help but smile. No matter how much time had passed, her friend held steadfast in her beliefs.
“You speak with confidence.”
“I speak with experience,” Cecilia emphasized. “Leonard did not change at once. He changed because he was allowed to.”
Adelaide straightened. That was what she had been trying to do, and she had always hoped that it would make a difference.
“I do not wish to press him.”
“And you should not,” Cecilia agreed. “But do not disappear either. As long as he knows you are there, that is all he needs.”
“That is more difficult than it sounds.”
“It is, but the difficult things usually are the ones worth doing.”
A pause followed, companionable and quiet.
From somewhere nearby, Adelaide could hear voices, and it unsettled her slightly, as though she were being overheard.
“I want to trust him,” she said finally.
“Then begin there. Trust that wanting first.” Cecilia reached out and squeezed her hand.
Adelaide returned the gesture, her grip light but resolute.
As she rose to leave, she felt no sudden certainty, no grand reassurance. But she felt steadier. And for now, that was enough.
The time came for her friends to leave more quickly than she had expected.
The Duchesses and their husbands gathered in the hall, their departure underway. Adelaide lingered near the staircase, adjusting the folds of her dress and observing the scene. She felt a strange tug of longing, an ache at the fact that their voices would soon vanish from her home.
She noted the small, intimate exchanges: the slight squeeze of a hand, the murmured instructions, the small smiles shared between husband and wife that said more than words could convey. In comparison, her own distance from Cassian felt larger.
One by one, she moved toward each couple.
She inclined her head to Emma, offering a warm smile. “It has been a pleasure,” she said softly.
“The pleasure has been ours,” Emma replied, her tone sincere.
Dorothy nodded to Adelaide, her eyes bright. “You have been most gracious. We shall be back before you know it.”
The carriages waited, and the last of the luggage was loaded. One by one, the couples stepped toward the doors. Adelaide followed them to the hall. She felt the hum of the house fade in their absence, the space suddenly larger and quieter than it had been before.
Finally, the carriage doors closed, the wheels rolling along the drive. Adelaide stood in the hall for a long moment, listening to the fading sounds.
The house had returned to its stillness, and with it came a strange mix of relief and emptiness.
She thought of Cassian, who was somewhere nearby, silent and reserved as ever.
She did not speak to him yet. Instead, she let her eyes follow the empty drive, tracing the path her friends had taken, and wondered if the ease and laughter that had filled the rooms could ever return, or if it had been a fleeting, perfect thing.
Cassian appeared then from the direction of the library. He carried himself with that same measured composure he had always shown, but now there was something softer in him, something deliberate.
Adelaide felt a small, unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
“You have seen them off, then,” he said, his voice low.
“Yes,” she replied. “It is quieter now.”
“It is. The funny thing about the quiet is that one wants to fill it with something.”
Adelaide looked at him. There was only sincerity on his face; the cold exterior she had grown accustomed to had melted away.
Cassian offered her a small velvet box, his eyes holding hers. “I bought this while I was away. I have been waiting for the right moment to give it to you, but there is no time like the present. Besides, I do not believe that the perfect moment will ever arrive.”
Adelaide took it gently, her fingers brushing his as she opened the lid. Inside lay a thin gold chain, with a single small pendant that gleamed faintly in the light.
“I thought you might like it,” he said.
Her fingers lingered on the chain.
“It is beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to his.
For the first time ever, Adelaide allowed herself a moment of quiet gratitude, unburdened by expectations or fear. She smiled, faint but genuine.
“I love it. Might I wear it now?”
“You may wear it always, if you wish.”
The silence stretched between them, and Adelaide realized that she had nothing more to say, not yet. She turned, and he clasped it around her neck, his fingertips brushing her skin.
When she faced him again, her heart was pounding. The day was drawing to a close, which meant that the following day, they would have much to discuss. She looked forward to it with both anticipation and immense anxiety.
“I should retire to bed,” she said at last.
“Of course,” Cassian said. “I will see you in the morning.”
She nodded, before retreating to her chambers. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and she removed her shoes and undid the fastenings of her gown without calling for her maid.
She crawled beneath the soft warmth of her sheets, the necklace remaining around her neck even though she knew it was best to remove it. She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the small peace she had glimpsed in her husband.
When she woke up, the sky was still dark, and she smelled smoke. It was not strong, but it was unmistakable.
She inhaled sharply, sitting upright in an instant. For a moment, the quiet warmth of her chamber seemed to waver. She climbed out of bed and went to the door, but when she touched her handle, her pulse quickened.
It was already hot.