Chapter Ten
Finally. Back home.
Adam sighed with relief.
The soles on his boots were still smeared with mud from the estate roads, despite the valet’s earlier efforts to clean them.
How he loathed when the smell of damp leather clung to him as he paced the length of the library, a stack of correspondence balanced in one hand, untouched.
Although the fire crackled cheerily in the hearth, its heat did little to ease the bone-deep weariness that clung to him after nearly two weeks of relentless travel.
He’d thought he’d get it all done sooner.
That hadn’t happened.
Two days of riding and twelve days of work.
Twelve days of riding from tenant to tenant, inspecting fields, touring cottages, shaking hands.
And so many new names to remember while there was only one on his mind—the one that ought not be.
Two days’ hard ride to return, only to fall straight into more obligations, more hours spent proving to everyone—even himself—that he deserved the title he hadn’t asked for.
His shoulders ached from the strain of sitting in the saddle and keeping his back straight during every overly polite conversation.
But his physical discomfort paled in comparison to the gnawing unease that had been with him every step of the way.
Charlene.
No matter how exhausted he was, he couldn’t seem to push her from his thoughts.
She owned them. Left him with no respite.
When he’d finally fallen into his massive bed at Rotheworth Manor, pillows perfectly fluffed by the housekeeper’s staff, he’d expected to black out with the kind of sleep only true fatigue could warrant.
But instead, he only saw her face. The way she looked at him.
The way fire would light up in her eyes.
And even the way she’d swallowed a retort when he struck too close to her heart.
He groaned, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the heavy desk.
Adam hadn’t wanted to leave her like that.
He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to deepen the frayed connection between them. Strengthen it. And for that, he needed time. He needed proximity. He needed to show up wherever she was.
He raked his hand over his face.
He wanted to see her. Badly.
Charlene was on a pedestal of female perfection, and he felt as though he could only ever roll a rock to her like Sisyphus up the mountain—she was so much better than him in every way, he’d never truly reach her, no matter how much he tried to touch her. But he wanted to try. Had to try.
He patted his vest pocket. There it was, the apology he’d never delivered.
I have to go to her.
A knock creaked against the study doorframe, interrupting his brooding.
His mother swept in, the light-gray sheen of her silk gown catching the firelight with every purposeful step. Her smooth and commanding expression reminded him that no matter how high his shoulders stood, hers bore decades of practice above his.
“You’re not dressed,” she stated flatly, her gaze dropping to his mud-dusted coat.
Adam gave her a curt nod. “I’ve only just returned.”
“And yet society doesn’t pause.” Her tone was crisp, the voice of a woman who’d run one of the country’s largest estates by her strength of will—and expected him to do the same.
“The Guy Fawkes Fair is scarcely an hour away. You’ll join us at the square.
This is not an invitation, Adam. It’s part of the role your father left to you. ”
His jaw tightened. “I’m exhausted. The tenants—” And he wanted to hunt down word of Charlene.
“Have occupied you for twelve days. Society deserves the same attention as your fields do. Or will you allow the gossips to write you off as too aloof for the Ton before the year’s end? You’ll attend, and you’ll smile. That is the duty of a duke.”
And then what? Adam wanted to snap, but swallowed the retort.
He stared at the fire for a moment, jaw flexing as he weighed his reply.
But there was nothing to weigh. She was right.
She always was, and it grated on his fraying temper—even when, in this case, it was his conscience that agreed with her.
Shallow as it might be, he was at the very least duty-bound to attend events.
He’d reserve his opinion on the smile. Unless Charlene was there. Then he’d smile all night long.
“Very well,” he bit out. “I’ll dress and inform the footman I’ll need the carriage ready within the hour.” He’d go to this blasted festival or whatever it was. Then, he’d hunt down Charlene.
She gave a small nod of approval and turned without another word, leaving him to collect himself. The second the door clicked shut behind her, Adam slouched against the desk with a sigh.
One more obligation. One more night of appearances, of playing the part the world demanded of him.
And no matter how short the fair might prove, no matter how many smiles he offered to the Ton beneath the fireworks sky, he wouldn’t rest tonight either—because she would still be there, lodged in his mind.
And like everything else, this would need to be dealt with eventually. The harder truth was that the matter with Charlene couldn’t be ignored—and he didn’t want her to be.
*
November 5th, 1818
Guy Fawkes Day had come and gone, and the celebrations of the night became louder as the hour of the fireworks loomed.
Charlene might as well have been a wisp of smoke among the guests at Cavendish House but Ashley and Maddie had joined forces with Waylon, so Charlene had to bow to them and come along.
Below the balcony, the crowd swelled, their voices a lively chatter woven through the crackle of roasted chestnuts and the bite of gunpowder in the crisp November evening air.
She adjusted her spencer jacket against the bite of the autumn chill, her eyes drawn to the sprawling bonfire being built in the center of the square.
Bundles of wood stacked high, glowing in the golden light of dusk, gave the promise of warmth that the breeze denied.
From her perch among nobility, she should have felt grand. Instead, loneliness curled around her like a shadow, unseen yet inescapable.
Even accompanied by her dear friends, she couldn’t quite evade the feeling.
Charlene glanced over at Ashley, who clutched her doting fiancé Thomas’s arm and leaned toward the rail, her cheeks pink with excitement. “Look at this view! You always think of everything.”
“Spectacular, right?” Thomas said, but his eyes were on Ashley, his hand lightly covering Ashley’s where it rested on his sleeve.
Charlene almost rolled her eyes at the pair; at the same time, she also felt a pinch of envy.
“It’s almost time for the spectacle,” Thomas added. “Let me fetch some ratafia before it begins.”
The moment he left, Maddie nudged her shoulder. “Why are you so quiet?”
Charlene pressed her lips together, her gloves twisting in her hands when she noticed that Ashley was now also scrutinizing her.
Should she tell Maddie? But once spoken, it would no longer be hers alone.
Did she even want it to remain a secret?
Or was she simply afraid of what saying it aloud would mean?
On the one hand, keeping it to herself felt safer, but on the other, these were her friends.
If anyone could help her make sense of this mess that warred in her head and heart, it was them.
Well, there was nothing for it, then.
She would tell them.
“I…” Charlene began, her voice faltering. How was this so difficult! She sighed and lowered her gaze. “I shall admit, I did something shocking, and now I don’t know what to do.”
Her friends exchanged quick looks.
“Shocking?” Ashley whispered, her tone a mix of curiosity and alarm. “What happened?”
Charlene hesitated, color rising to her cheeks. “I went to the park,” she said finally. “Alone. To… to meet Adam.”
“When was this?” Maddie asks.
“About two weeks ago.”
Two delightful weeks of agonizing over the man.
Ashley gasped, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. “Char! Alone? With the duke? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
Oh, she did. “I wasn’t thinking,” Charlene said, her voice barely a notch above the clamor in the square. “The man just makes me so furious!”
“Oh?” Maddie murmured. “And how did he do that?”
“He sent a note after the ball,” Charlene said flatly. “Practically goading me.”
“And you fell for it,” Ashley said with a nod. “Of course you would.”
“Of course I would? What does that mean?”
“It means,” Ashley said with an arch of her brow, “You have unfinished business with that man.”
Charlene felt her pulse quicken, felt the heat rising unbidden to her throat. Unfinished business? It felt rather finished to her. Or it had, before he returned. Since his return… Perhaps Ashley wasn’t wrong.
“Yes,” Maddie said thoughtfully. “Because goading aside, why else would you need to meet the duke if not for a sense of unfinished business?”
“However,” Ashley said. “I’d caution you, Char. A new duke, handsome and unattached? People will notice. People will also talk. You should be careful not to put yourself in a position where you cannot get yourself out.”
“Well, there were certain positions, for sure,” Charlene muttered. But none too scandalous.
Ashley’s eyes bulged. “What are you saying?”
Charlene laughed. “Wait, what position do you think I—what are you implying?”
Maddie scoffed. “Any position with you in the park, alone, would be improper.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad you chose any position at all,” Ashley said with a grin. “You’ve been far too busy pruning your orchids lately.”
Charlene rolled her eyes. “They require a lot of attention.”
Maddie chuckled. “Hah! Does the duke know he is competing against plants for your attention?”
“There is no competition,” Charlene argued. The orchids would win, however. Besides, Adam seeking her attention? He wasn’t even in London.
Would he return soon?
The first streak of light cut across the dark sky above them, bursting into gold as the fireworks began, drawing her attention.
But as the light flared, a tightness gripped her whole being, and she quickly lowered her eyes, turning her focus back to the bonfire below, its crackling flames far less chaotic than the turmoil she wished she could smother under the crush of the crowd.
Honestly.
Why did it feel like her heart might explode for that man?
Just like those fireworks.