Chapter Nine
The first thing Adelaide noticed the following morning, apart from the light coming in through her chamber window and beneath the wooden door, lay a folded piece of paper just inches from the bottom of her door.
Her heart fluttered as she fetched her robe, holding it around her bosom tightly as she crossed the room to pick up the paper.
Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it to see a note written within.
The lack of a signature filled her with dread before she read the words.
Miss Barrett
You should be fully apprised of precisely who, or rather what, is extending its hospitality to you during your sojourn at Lochville Manor.
The Duke of Lochville is a beast with no compassion or remorse in his darkened heart.
You have undoubtedly noticed how unfeeling and severe he is to those he would profess to love. However, that is not his worst crime.
The esteemed Duke of Lockville murdered his father’s ward, Lady Charlotte Delaney, with ruthless intent.
London ostracized him for his crime, though he has thus far eluded justice.
Did you not ever wonder why a duke would lock himself away, far from the duties and obligations his father once proudly upheld and performed?
Beware, Miss Barrett. Once a murderer, always a murderer. Especially now that he has essentially gotten away with this heinous offence. If his father’s charge was not safe near him, trust that you will not be safe for much longer, either.
The paper slipped from her numbed hand, landing softly on the floor.
She stared straight ahead, though her gaze was fixed on the memories of the previous night with the duke, rather than on her present surroundings.
She recalled how upset her lady’s maid had been when recounting what she had heard about the accusations of murder aimed at the duke.
His kiss still seared on her lips, yet now the warning echoed in her mind.
Coupled with his cryptic warning in the library, her stomach tightened.
She had thought he referred to his fierce gaze, as if he intended to devour her.
Now, however, she wondered if his meaning was far more sinister. What if he truly was a killer?
“Miss Barrett? Sophia asked, having entered without Adelaide noticing.
Adelaide quickly fetched the note, tucking it into the pocket of her robe. She smiled weakly at her lady’s maid, motioning for her to come to help her dress.
“Good morning, Sophia,” she said, trying to conceal the depth of her unrest. “I believe I shall wear a yellow gown today.”
Sophia cast her a curious glance, perceiving her mistress's evident distress.
Yet she nodded and complied, assisting Adelaide with her attire while sharing the latest household gossip she had gleaned from the other servants.
Adelaide smiled and nodded absently, her mind elsewhere.
The duke's warning to flee echoed repeatedly in her head.
***
The Lockhart family was already seated when Adelaide entered the breakfast room. Everyone exchanged greetings, with Edith’s being the most exuberant.
“How are you feeling after our visit to the bathhouse yesterday?” she asked.
Adelaide forced a smile.
“Much better,” she said. “I feel no soreness at all from the accident.”
Helena beamed at her niece; her relief evident.
“That is wonderful, dear,” she said.
The other three women fell into easy conversation about their favorite parts of the Pump Room.
Adelaide, however, was drawn to the duke’s presence, where he was seated by the window like a lodestone.
He, however, merely inclined his head with a stiff formality, toward her, as if she were but a casual acquaintance.
She studied him secretly as Miss Potter served the tea.
His shoulders were rigid, and there were shadows beneath his eyes which suggested he had suffered a sleepless night.
That was not uncommon, as he had appeared sickly and fatigued since she and her aunt had arrived.
But that morning, his hands clenched when anyone moved too quickly, which Adelaide thought odd, even for an ill man.
She tried to study his hands without making her focus blatantly obvious.
Could those same hands, which had cupped her face so tenderly the night before, be the same hands that brought violence to Lady Charlotte?
His fingers trembled as he raised his teacup to his lips.
She glanced at Miss Potter, who seemed attentive as ever to her master.
Adelaide found it strange that the maid seemed interested in only the duke.
While he was master of the house, it was her duty to serve all of the nobles within.
And it seemed as though the Duke was agitated with the maid’s insistence to keep his cup filled.
And the continuous shaking of his hands made Adelaide feel strangely protective over the duke, despite the ominous warning she had received.
Perhaps, the maid was simply worried about her master. Truthfully, Adelaide was, as well.
The butler entered, his reluctance to approach with the envelope he held evident with his shrunken shoulders and fearful expression. He handed the letter to the dowager duchess, keeping himself as far away from the duke as he could.
“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” the dowager said, smiling kindly at the man.
He bowed, leaving the breakfast room quickly and without a word. The duke’s eyes followed the butler, and Adelaide thought she saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Then, his grandmother opened the letter and read it aloud, and the duke’s mood changed drastically.
“Darling, your aunt is inviting us to join her for a musical evening in her music room tonight,” she said brightly to the duke.
Then, she turned her smile to Adelaide and Helena.
“Beatrice has always been enamoured with music, relishing any opportunity to bring together her acquaintances for a delightful soiree of harmonious melodies.
She laughed merrily, and Adelaide’s eyes were immediately drawn back to the duke.
She watched carefully as his jaw clenched, clearly unhappy about the mention of his aunt’s gathering.
He looked as if he wanted to protest. But suddenly, his knuckles turned white with his fingers wrapped around his cup, and he closed his eyes, his face growing an impossible shade of pale.
He truly was ill, it seemed, and it was causing him distress.
She opened her mouth to ask him if he was all right when the dowager duchess spoke again.
“I believe we will all have a wonderful time,” she said with great enthusiasm, not giving anyone a chance to plead out of the invitation. “I shall send word to her that we shall attend.”
Adelaide bit her lip, glancing again at the Duke. He had opened his eyes again, but he still looked frail and very ill. She wondered if she should insist that he remain home while they accepted the invitation. She also wondered if he would even listen.
***
Marcus was not surprised when his grandmother did not give him a choice about attending his aunt’s musical evening.
He kept his anger contained, mainly by recalling the passion between Miss Barrett and himself the previous evening.
However, as he went to his chambers after breakfast, the dizziness still gripping him, he wondered what his grandmother was thinking.
She knew he was very ill, yet she continued organizing and arranging events and excursions and insisting that he should attend.
Did she not understand the severity of his illness?
Did she doubt the truthfulness of his claims regarding his symptoms?
It made no sense that such a loving woman would simply ignore his suffering.
Was there something more of which he was not aware?
Having not slept for more than an hour the previous night, Marcus succumbed to a gentle slumber.
For the first time in two years, his dreams were not horrifying and filled with terrible remorse.
Rather, they were filled with Miss Barrett.
He could, at last, see everything which her nightgown kept hidden from him, and he got to experience every part of her.
***
Later that afternoon, the other ladies took tea in the drawing room to discuss musical selections and attire for the upcoming evening. Adelaide quietly excused herself, earning quizzical frowns from all the women except for Helena.
“Are you all, right?” the dowager duchess asked, giving her a worried glance.
“Adelaide nodded with a small smile.
“I am very well,” she said. “I just remembered a book which I meant to take from the library to begin reading before bed each night.”
Augusta nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer.
Edith, however, looked with veiled suspicion.
Adelaide gave her a reassuring look before exiting the room.
Truthfully, while she would dutifully attend the evening with her hosts and her aunt, she was not particularly thrilled about it.
She needed to bring order to her thoughts.
It did not help that she was genuinely concerned about the Duke and his well-being.
She went straight to the library and she breathed deeply of the smell of the books, closing her eyes and allowing her frenzied mind a moment of silence.
Her fingers trailed along the book spines, uncertain whether she intended to read or simply exist in the one room in which she could find both comfort and thrilling memories.
Until she noticed one book sitting slightly askew, that was.
When she pulled it free, a small, leather-bound volume fell out into her hands. She fumbled to keep from dropping it, turning it in her hand. Her heart thundered in her chest as she saw Charlotte’s name on the inside of the front cover.