Chapter Eleven
The entire room erupted into applause as Adelaide finished playing her Mozart piece.
Helena held her head high with quiet pride as everyone murmured their amazement to one another.
But Adelaide paid little mind to the reactions of everyone else.
There was only one person whose reaction caught her attention.
The Duke’s eyes still held the desire to which her body never failed to respond, yet there was a depth to it now as if he were truly seeing her for the first time. He smiled slowly at her, waiting for the applause to cease before moving closer to her and speaking.
“I have never heard such a meaningful performance,” he said softly.
Adelaide blushed, all the physical sensations she always felt when she was near him returning with a quickness that rendered her breathless.
They were not to have a moment alone, however.
Just as the refreshments were being served, Lord Thomas approached with Edith, both of whom were smiling warmly at Adelaide.
“Your playing is more spectacular than any professional musician’s I have ever heard,” Edith said, embracing her tightly.
Adelaide smiled at her friend, dipping her head sheepishly.
“Thank you, Edith,” she said. “That is one of my favourite pieces.”
Lord Thomas grinned, bowing to Adelaide as he lightly applauded her once more.
“That much was quite clear,” he said, his sincerity and warmth surprising Adelaide. “I must agree with Lady Edith. I have never heard a more appealing performance.”
Adelaide smiled again, shifting uncomfortably at the praise. She had heard much praise about her musical talents. However, she had never heard it with such genuineness behind it.
“Your music speaks of depths that others might miss,” the Duke said softly, giving her another long stare. “There is a certain passion that seems to speak directly to one’s soul.”
Adelaide regarded the duke, feeling more deeply affected by his compliment than by those of Lord Thomas and Lady Edith. No one had ever seen past her accomplished playing to the passion and emotion she conveyed beneath the skill.
Mother certainly never did, she thought bitterly as she imagined her mother’s boastful preening. Her pianoforte skills were the only thing for which her mother ever praised her. Even then, however, she was often busy taking credit for Adelaide’s talent.
She blinked to dismiss the negative memories, turning back to the duke and instantly blushing when she met the passion within his eyes once more.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured softly, the flush of her cheeks deepening alongside the understanding she now saw in his dark brown eyes.
It truly felt as though he saw her, not just physically but spiritually, as well.
The feeling was so overwhelming that the warning from that morning faded, its echo present but dull in the recesses of her mind.
The dowager duchess approached, disrupting the moment of bonding with her grandson. She embraced Adelaide not as a warm, hospitable hostess, but as a dear friend.
“Adelaide, darling, that was spectacular,” she said. “I could only hope to advance to the level of skill that you possess.”
Adelaide blushed again, glancing once more at her aunt. Helena was smiling fondly at her with her hands clasped at her breast and tears in her eyes, and Adelaide felt great love for her aunt.
“You are too kind, Your Grace,” she said. “I am certain that with the experience you must have had with teaching Edith, your skill largely surpasses mine.”
The Duchess shook her head with a warm, wistful smile.
“I can play the notes as they are written,” she said. “And I find joy in some of the pieces I play. But I can admit where I fall short. I lack a natural love for music.”
The Duke surprised Adelaide by speaking again, moving as close as he could within propriety standards.
“It is a rare gift that she has,” he said softly as he glanced at Adelaide once more.
The gaze fixation was brief, but it was as powerful as ever.
Adelaide smiled softly at him, watching him even after he turned his attention to his sister.
Her heart thundered wildly, and she struggled to remain calm.
She could see the desire of the duke to speak with her alone, and she was surprised at her visceral desire to be alone with him, as well.
***
Thomas stood patiently beside Edith, who looked exceptionally radiant as she smiled at Miss Barrett.
The young lady's skill impressed him greatly, but he couldn’t deny he was even more captivated by the beauty in Edith’s face as she watched her friend’s performance with wonder and delight.
While Edith waited to speak with her friend, Thomas glanced at his friend.
Marcus still stood closely behind Miss Barrett, and Thomas noticed how even while she spoke with others, Marcus’s eyes never left her.
For the first time, Thomas realized the affection in his friend’s expression as Marcus stared at Miss Barrett.
He was surprised it took him so long to recognize the attraction the pair seemed to share.
My preoccupation with the lady I fancy has made me oblivious, he thought, smiling softly at Edith, who had just approached Miss Barrett and embraced her. Perhaps that infatuation is why I can now see the same sentiment in Marcus.
Indeed, there was a blaze in Marcus’s eyes that matched the fire Thomas felt when he and Edith shared secret glances.
Thomas often watched Edith’s lips when she talked, entranced with the idea of how they might taste if he were ever fortunate enough to kiss her.
There was also a powerful attraction between them when they danced that made him want to hold Edith forever.
There was indeed a yearning for more intimate contact that he noticed became more intense with each encounter he had with her.
With Marcus, it seemed that a similar, more intense longing was difficult for him to hide.
He glanced around the room, noticing Edwin across the room.
What caught Thomas’s attention was the sour expression on his face.
As he followed Edwin’s gaze directly to Marcus, Thomas realized he was not the only one noticing Marcus’s attraction to Miss Barrett.
Besides his seeming worry about Marcus’s illness, Edwin always appeared charming and calm.
However, he now looked concerned as he observed Marcus’s interaction with Miss Barrett.
Thomas first thought that Edwin might be worried for his cousin’s sake.
Edwin seemed like the type to be protective, especially of his family members.
However, the longer Thomas watched him, the more Edwin’s expression changed.
No one other than Thomas noticed, but Edwin’s eyes slowly took on an air of sharp calculation.
It appeared to Thomas that Edwin was pretending to be concerned for Marcus.
However, why would he do such a thing when Marcus was genuinely ill?
Thomas shook his head, trying to dismiss the unfounded thought.
He had never had reason to believe that Edwin was nothing other than a dutiful, loving relative of Marcus and Augusta.
He chastised himself for letting his imagination run wild.
He tried to turn his attention back to Miss Barrett, who was still receiving commendation for her performance.
But just as he turned to look away from Edwin, Edwin looked his way and met his gaze.
Edwin’s eyes widened at the sight of Thomas as if horrified that Thomas had been looking at him.
Then, Edwin’s eyes twitched, as if briefly narrowing, before leaving his seat and approaching his mother.
Thomas experienced an unexpected shudder.
Something about the instant of cold detachment in Edwin’s eyes made him uneasy.
Why did Thomas suddenly feel as though Edwin was acting suspiciously?
***
Marcus managed to keep the symptoms of his ailment from overwhelming him during the hours they spent at Beatrice’s townhouse.
When they returned home, however, he had just closed the door to his chambers when the spinning sensation in his head overwhelmed him.
He gripped his head in his hands, stumbling to his bed where he sat gingerly, covering his face and closing his eyes as he waited for it to pass.
As he gathered his wits, his thoughts turned to Miss Barrett.
Her musical performance had been something that no mundane words could describe.
He had been sincere with his compliments, his most genuine words about the depth of the passion of her talent.
He had never been able to effectively read someone’s thoughts during a musical performance.
However, with Miss Barrett, he had felt that he lived inside her thoughts, seeing each in perfect detail.
And the concentration on her face as she had focused on the music had given her lips a pucker of determination that left him thinking of nothing other than when he could kiss them again.
Why do I feel this way? He asked himself, referring to far more than his mystery illness.
He rose slowly, his mouth dry and his tongue like old cotton.
He walked toward his water basin, reaching for the pitcher beside it.
Before he could pick up the ceramic carafe, however, his vision began fading to black.
Tremors arose in his arms, and he nearly knocked the pitcher off its table.
He stood still, waiting for the episode to pass, as if often did.
However, when the tremors grew intense and racked him more violently, all he could do was fall to his knees.
Before he could call for help, he was on his side on the floor.
Sweat beaded his brow as wave after wave of dizziness assaulted him, far worse than any previous episode.
He writhed on the ground, clenching his jaw involuntarily as the tremors continued.
While his body was outside his control, so was his mind.
The illness worried him, especially in his present state.
However, he also thought of Miss Barret, and of the feelings he experienced when he was with her.
He had been attracted to her since he first saw her.
There had been no denying that she stirred something in him which had long lain dormant.
In the last couple of days, however, there seemed to be something more than raw desire between them.
She was young and innocent, with no concept of the kind of agony that bred darkness like that which he possessed.
Indeed, it was that very innocence that made him long to protect and care for her, just as much as he wanted to lay with her.
He had only ever felt protective of Edith and Charlotte before Miss Barrett came into his life.
Yet the tenderness he felt toward Miss Barrett was something completely different.
As he tried to pull himself off the floor, he found himself wishing for Miss Barrett. He knew that she would be nurturing and kind, and that talking with her about poetry might distract him from how ill he felt. Perhaps, he could learn more about her than just her love for Wordsworth.
Perhaps I could learn everything about her, he thought with a sly smile despite his anguish. He could not decide which would be his undoing first: his illness, or his beautiful young house guest.
“It seems that there is a rather strong bond forming between you and a certain duke,” Helena said as she and Adelaide sipped tea the following morning.
Adelaide blushed furiously, looking at her aunt with sheepish surprise.
“What do you mean?” she asked. She did not intend to feign innocence. She was simply curious about how her aunt noticed anything. Perhaps she was also curious about whether anyone else might have noticed.
Helena gave her a long, knowing look.
“Just because I never married does not mean that I do not know the blush of longing,” she said. “I have known you all your life, darling, and I have watched your eyes change since we came here. I see them change every time you are near him, and I have seen the same change in his with you.”
Adelaide’s teacup rattled against its saucer, making her think of the duke, which caused her flush to deepen.
“I am sure you are mistaken,” she said quickly. “Besides, I thought you were more interested in Lord Edwin’s apparent interest in me.”
Helena shook her head, unwilling to accept her niece’s attempt at deflection. Her second knowing smile suggested that she did not intend to allow Adelaide to avoid the subject much longer.
“Darling, I have known both Edwin and Marcus since they were boys,” she said.
“Edwin possesses a certain ambition. He is charming and kind, but I can never guess how he truly feels or what he wants. Marcus, however, was a genuine, sweet boy. He was once a gentle, compassionate man who loved those closest to him deeply. All these accusations since Charlotte’s death have left Marcus a broken man, which is something he does not deserve. ”
Adelaide’s eyes widened once more, for a different reason. She looked at her aunt as she thought yet again about the letter she received.
“You believe he is innocent?” she asked timidly.
Helena nodded.
“I am certain he is innocent, my dear,” she said. “Those rumours are nonsense. If people could have seen how he loved and protected Charlotte, just as he did Edith, they would know that he could never be a murderer.”
Adelaide nodded, wanting to feel reassured by her aunt’s confidence in the Duke. Yet the words in the letter lingered in her thoughts, shaking her certainty in the accuracy of her aunt’s opinion. Why would someone make such a claim to a perfect stranger if there was no truth to it?