Chapter Seventeen
For the next few days, Marcus remained in his chambers, claiming illness each time his grandmother or Edwin knocked, trying to coax him into leaving his room.
He scarcely touched the meals brought to his room, despite the weakness and exhaustion he perpetually felt, preferring to delicately sip water to wash down the mercury tonic Mr. Fletcher had given him.
He could think of nothing other than the timing of the death of Mr. Morrison.
He had believed that the physician had known what was ailing him, and he had promised solutions.
It made no sense for Marcus to be so troubled and skeptical about a sudden death.
It happened all the time, after all. What gnawed at Marcus during his every waking moment was the alleged cause of the accident.
The claim had been that the weather had made for a treacherous journey.
Yet as he thought about it over the following days, he realized that his sister was right.
The day the physician had called on him, the weather had been clear and pleasant.
There was no storm until the following morning.
So, why would anyone claim that inclement weather had been the cause of Mr. Morrison’s death?
He was so distraught over the death of his family’s long-time physician and friend that it was five days before Marcus noticed the change.
He rose from bed after another fitful night’s sleep and began pacing, moving his gaze from the black rug to the rising sunlight outside and then back again, his feet moving faster and faster.
The clock chiming seven o’clock caused him to cease his pacing and whip his head in the direction of the startling sound.
Only then did he realize that there was no crippling dizziness or nausea, and his vision was virtually clear, despite the frantic movement of his eyes from the floor of the darkened room to the brightness of outdoors.
He walked to his mirror, expecting to see waxen, sunken cheeks and dull, bleary eyes.
To his surprise, however, there was a faint pink tint to his skin and the flesh covering his cheekbones appeared less taut.
The darkness beneath his eyes lingered from his recent sleeplessness.
However, it was greatly diminished, and his eyes were considerably clearer and more alert.
Could it be that Dr. Fletcher had resolved his illness in such a short time?
The puzzlement of Mr. Morrison’s death temporarily fell to the back of his mind.
He summoned his valet to help him dress in a crisp but plain black suit.
Then, he descended the stairs, greeted by a frenzy of servants rushing by, talking urgently about preparations for a ball.
It took Marcus a moment to decipher that they were talking about his grandmother’s ball, which was taking place that evening.
He considered retreating back to his chambers, but Miss Potter noticed him as she hurried by with a stack of silver trays.
“Your Grace,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide and briefly bewildered. “How are you feeling?”
Marcus gave her a curt nod, recalling her insolence during Mr. Morrison’s examination.
“I feel a bit better,” he said gruffly. “Where is Grandmother?”
The maid glanced over her shoulder for a little longer than Marcus believed was necessary. When she faced Marcus again, she was smiling, looking delighted and relieved.
“She is in the ballroom, discussing this evening’s ball with your house guests,” she said. “I shall inform her that you have left your room. She will be thrilled.”
Before Marcus could deter her, she rushed off in the direction of the hallway leading to the ballroom. Marcus sighed, slowly following behind the maid.
I ought to cast her out, he thought bitterly. She will likely be the death of me.
He found his grandmother in the center of the ballroom with Edith and Lady Helena. She was speaking to Miss Potter, who pointed at the doorway as he entered.
Augusta turned and smiled brilliantly at Marcus, rushing to embrace him.
“Darling, I have been beside myself with worry,” she said, stepping back to examine him. “You look far better, I daresay. Perhaps all you needed was a few days of rest.”
Marcus laughed, surprised at how unburdened it sounded.
“You speak as if you intended to give me a few days to rest,” he said, his words lighthearted for the first time in longer than he could remember.
His grandmother laughed, embracing him again.
“And I will never do so again,” she said. “In fact, I expect you to attend the ball this evening.”
Marcus looked at the dowager duchess warily, mindful of his condition.
He was better, true enough, and he intended to stay that way.
He preferred to wait a few more days before prancing about as if he hadn't a care in the world.
However, he knew his grandmother too well, and he was certain he would relent in the end.
He decided he might as well agree and save the time arguing.
Perhaps, if he rested as much as possible until the ball began, he might feel as though he had returned to his former self.
“Very well,” he said with a stiff smile.
***
Adelaide entered the ballroom to find everyone including Helena waiting to greet the guests for the ball.
However, finding her aunt preparing to play hostess with her friend was not what surprised her.
Marcus was not only out of his chamber for the first time in days, but he also looked like a different man.
His dark hair was clean and neatly combed, his formal black evening clothes were crisp and fresh, his eyes were alert and focused and free of their former misery, and while there was still the faintest pallor in his face, he stood taller, looking stronger and more assured that Adelaide had ever seen him.
“Adelaide, darling,” the dowager duchess said, giving her a warm smile. “Would you and Helena mind going inside and mingling with the guests until Marcus, Edith and I have greeted all the prompt arrivals?”
Adelaide smiled, gathering her dark green skirts and dipping into a curtsey.
“I would be honoured,” she said.
Helena joined her, looking stunning in her own light purple satin gown. The two women entered the room, each taking a glass of champagne from footmen who were serving them on silver trays and walking around the outer edge of the floor where guests would be dancing.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” Helena said, glancing toward the doorway as she spoke. “And I am certain that I am not the only one who noticed.”
Adelaide gave a sidelong look and saw the duke quickly looking away. She could not be certain, but she thought she saw a small smile teasing his lips.
“Aunt Helena, you are incorrigible,” she whispered, her cheeks burning madly.
Helena laughed and shrugged.
“I know that expression, darling,” she said.
Adelaide looked away timidly.
“I am sure that I did not give him any looks,” she insisted, hoping she was telling the truth.
Helena raised an eyebrow and gestured subtly toward the duke.
“I was not talking about you, dear,” she said knowingly.
Adelaide glared at her aunt, but she did not get any more time to discuss the matter with her.
At that moment, guests began entering the ball, and Adelaide watched Helena greet them as skillfully as an actor used the stage.
Adelaide looked to the doorway, where the Duke stood with his grandmother and sister.
At first, she beamed, watching as he gave polite smiles to each party of guests.
However, she soon noticed that people started gossiping about him before they were even out of earshot.
“He was near death just days ago,” one gentleman said to another as they walked past Adelaide as if she did not exist. “Such a sudden recovery seems rather odd, does it not?”
The other gentleman nodded, oblivious to the pointed stare she was giving them.
“It does,” he said. “Though I suppose it is better than murdering another young lady. I heard there are women who Her Grace is hosting. Let us hope they do not meet the same fate as that of Lady Charlotte at his hands.”
Adelaide walked around the men, stopping in front of them so they would either have to stop walking or run right into her.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with the most disingenuous smile. “It seems you are well-versed in specific gossip topics. However, I am sure you are aware that reputations are fragile things. It would cause me great distress to witness such uncharitable remarks yield unforeseen consequences.”
The gentlemen exchanged glances as Adelaide never dropped her eyes from their faces.
“I do not think you understand…” the first gentleman began, but Adelaide held up her hand and shook her head with a sly smile.
“Let us not give these fine people anything more about which to gossip, shall we?” she asked, giving the men a meaningful look. “What I do understand is that this is a ball that no one wishes to ruin with baseless conjecture.”
The second gentleman appeared to want to speak.
However, instead, he turned toward the refreshment tables, beckoning to his companion while keeping his back to Adelaide.
The first gentleman complied, casting Adelaide a perplexed look.
Adelaide held a graceful smile, not moving her gaze until both men were no longer in sight.
When she looked at the duke again, her heart fell. The burden of the whispers and society’s cemented judgments of him was evident in the tight set of his jaw. He maintained his polite expression, though it was notably strained.
I wish I could stand with him, she thought, gazing at him wistfully. I would be honoured to defend all the whispers and glares against such a tender, caring man.
When he turned and looked at her from across the room, Adelaide was sure he must have heard her thoughts.
Though his pallor was much improved, she could see that he was masking his remaining discomfort with aristocratic hauteur.
His expression softened considerably, however, and he gave her a small smile.
For an instant, it seemed as if all signs of illness left him as the blazing yearning returned to his eyes.
It seemed clearer and deeper than ever, and despite her concerns about his condition, it felt as though her entire body blushed deep crimson.
As the first dance set began, Adelaide lost the duke in the crowd of couples approaching the floor. When she turned around, however, there was another familiar face.
“Miss Barrett,” Lord Edwin said with the most charming smile he had ever given her. “Pray, tell me that you have a place on your dance card to share this dance with me?”
Adelaide giggled nervously, trying to ignore the increasing dread she felt in his presence.
She nodded, forcing a graceful smile as she reluctantly put a hand in the one that he offered her.
The second to last thing she wanted was to dance with Lord Edwin.
However, the very last thing she wanted was to cause trouble by refusing to do so.
“Of course,” she said.
Lord Edwin grinned as though he had just masterminded some clever plot. She followed him onto the floor, glancing inconspicuously for any sign of the duke. As Lord Edwin led them into position for the quadrille, his smile grew wider.
“I do not believe I have had the opportunity to tell you how lovely you look this evening,” he said.
Adelaide held her pleasant expression, but it was all she could do in order not to shudder. The charm might be warming and flattering if it had not felt so practiced and deliberate. He also could not hide the predatory gleam in his eyes, no matter how wide his grin became.
“Thank you, my lord,” Adelaide said, emphasizing his title and the polite briefness of her reply.
Lord Edwin seemed unbothered as the dance began. Adelaide was granted a moment to glance around once more, where she noticed the Duke watching her closely.
No, she thought as she noticed his clenched jaw and hands clasped tightly behind his back. He is watching Lord Edwin, and rather closely.
It appeared that the Duke was flustered by Lord Edwin’s choice to ask Adelaide to dance.
As he continued watching their quadrille, he watched with intense emotions he seemed barely able to suppress, which sent a shiver down Adelaide’s spine that had nothing to do with fear.
She longed to be on the floor with the duke, not in the company of a man who always appeared to be considering something nefarious beneath a handsome smile.
Lord Edwin tightened his grip on her hand and Adelaide realized she had been staring at the duke.
She gave him another polite smile, but she knew it was a failure when his eyes darkened for a moment.
She held up her chin, but she could not deny the nervousness she felt.
Lord Edwin had always been a calming man.
However, she did not know what he was capable of if he had the perception that he was in competition with someone, or that he had the right to be jealous of to whom Adelaide chose to give her attention.
She continued the dance looking at him, but she felt more uneasy than ever before.
When she saw Edith following Lord Thomas onto the floor, she felt relief. Watching her friend would give her a respite from her discomfort while, she hoped, not upsetting Lord Edwin. She realized she was right when he followed her gaze, looking at the couple bemused.
“Are they not a lovely couple?” he asked pointedly.
Adelaide nodded her agreement.
“They are,” she said, watching Edith blush as Lord Thomas was saying something to her.
Lord Edwin chuckled, but the sound was chillingly hollow.
“I wonder what Marcus would think about it,” he said. “Though I am sure that he knows.”
Adelaide suddenly felt an overwhelming need to protect Edith and Thomas.
“It appears as though their striking bond with one another silenced the rumours that previously filled the air.”
Lord Edwin looked back at the pair, then at Adelaide once more.
“They dance carefully within propriety,” he said. “However, I believe that everyone in this room can see their passion.”
Adelaide nodded, gazing fondly at her dear friend.
“I believe so, too,” she said.