Chapter Thirty-Six #2
Harry slapped him on the back in an overly familiar gesture Adam had come to expect from the man who had never been one for keeping an emotional distance.
“I know disappearing at balls is one of your particular talents, but it does not reflect well on your wife. You really ought to go sit beside her.”
Harry had a point, but Adam didn’t appreciate having his social shortcomings pointed out to him. “What I really ought to do is hang you out your bedchamber windows by a bedsheet tied around your ankles until you agree to take yourself off permanently.”
“Welcome back, old friend.” Harry laughed. “You’ve gone soft lately.”
“Shut up, Harry.” Adam walked away from him toward the doors that led to the people and noise he disliked so much.
The fact that Persephone’s face lit up when he arrived at her side proved something of a comfort. A simpering pup of a gentleman occupied the seat next to her, a situation resolved by a single look from Adam.
“Taking a breath of fresh air?” she asked with a smile as he sat in the quickly vacated seat.
“Several breaths, in fact.” Adam attempted to make himself comfortable in the most uncomfortable of situations: a place of scrutiny in a crowded ballroom.
“You haven’t been too miserable, have you?” Persephone looked rather closely at him.
Adam averted his eyes, her scrutiny making him uncomfortable. Did she see Hades when she looked at him? “The evening has gone well, I think,” he said, hoping to divert her attention.
“It has.” A smile of satisfaction crept across her face. Why did she never look like that when just the two of them were together?
A country dance began, and every couple within shouting distance of them, it seemed, eagerly joined the sets forming. Persephone watched as the guests worked out their starting positions and negotiated partners and places. She really did seem happy.
“What do the pomegranate seeds symbolize?” Adam asked quite suddenly, quite without forethought.
“What?” Persephone asked, obviously taken aback.
“In the Persephone myth.” Adam was unexpectedly determined to have the answer. He would understand at least one mystery. “Linus said the seeds are symbols.”
“Has he been waxing philosophical?” Persephone smiled. “That is the one trait he inherited from Papa.”
“What do they symbolize?” Adam persisted.
Persephone looked at him, confused, intrigued. She finally relented, though her expression didn’t clear, “According to Papa, the seeds are symbolic of love.”
“Love?” Adam hadn’t been expecting that.
“Hades’s love for Persephone and her love for him.”
“How could she love someone who kept her prisoner?”
“Papa always believed that she came to know him beyond his fearsome demeanor and came to love him.” She still looked entirely bewildered. “Hades fell in love with Persephone as well. She was his match. Eating some of the seeds allowed her to return.”
“Then why not eat all of the seeds?” Adam watched her closely. “If they were so in love, why did she leave at all? If she had eaten all he offered her, she would have stayed forever.”
“Papa always believed that Hades did not force her to remain always because of her family’s grief.”
That didn’t sound right. “Linus said Hades never allowed anyone to leave his realm.”
“But Hades loved Persephone,” she said.
“He let her go because he loved her?”
Persephone nodded. “And she returned because she loved him.”
* * *
Adam had sat beside her for hours. Persephone smiled at the memory.
She couldn’t have been more content had she danced with a hundred gentlemen.
Her husband had been attentive and kind and had endured what must have been a very miserable evening for her sake.
At one point he’d even held her hand. She would cherish that memory for all her life.
He’d mentally been far away—she’d seen it in his face. Their unexpected conversation about mythology had been quite odd. Perhaps he had simply been bored out of his mind, seeking entertainment where he could find it.
Still, it had been progress. They had spent the evening much as two longtime friends would, sitting in companionable silence, sharing observations of their fellow man, talking of the little nothings that filled the conversations of the well-acquainted.
She decided weeks ago that she wished for his friendship.
Now she wanted more.
She felt certain she merely needed time to come to know him better, to understand his moods and thoughts.
On more than one occasion in the past week, Persephone thought Adam had been moments from kissing her, from reaching out to her.
In time, he would stop fighting those instincts, she assured herself.
She held out hope that he would, that she might even be able to resurrect a few of her now-dead dreams of love and happy ever after.
Persephone stepped out of her dressing room, grateful for her warm wool dressing gown now that winter had begun to make itself known. She stopped not a single step inside, surprised by what she saw.
Adam was pacing in her bedchamber.
“Adam?”
His expression concerned her. Something was on his mind, something that did not seem pleasant.
“Linus leaves for Shropshire in the morning,” he said, continuing to pace, not looking at her.
“Yes, I know.” The visit had been far too short, but Linus had only three weeks of shore leave.
“You will be going with him,” Adam said decisively.
Going with him? “I don’t understand.”
“Your maid can pack your bags, and you can leave with Linus after you break your fast.” Adam stopped his pacing abruptly. He seemed to be struggling for a moment, as if a word lodged itself in his throat. “I am certain your family will be pleased to see you again.”
“Adam—”
“I will let you rest before your journey.” With that he left.
Persephone stood alone in her room, heart pounding even as it dropped to the pit of her stomach.
After all that had happened between them, Adam was sending her away.