Chapter 12 #2
They wandered slowly between the stalls, Elise leading whichever adult appeared least occupied at any given moment.
She acquired a new sketchbook, two sticks of charcoal, a ribbon she insisted matched Wolverton’s trees, and participated in an inexplicably enthusiastic conversation with an elderly shepherd regarding sheep.
“Do all children negotiate prices?” Eric asked quietly.
“She learned from my father.”
“I feared as much.”
Adelaide accepted the small parcel containing Elise’s supplies before they continued down the lane. “I rather like markets.”
“They suit you.”
“How so?”
“You enjoy conversations with strangers and find everyone interesting.”
“Nearly everyone.”
He shook his head, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him again. The ease between them no longer required effort. Almost without noticing, their conversation drifted beyond weather, tenants, and village gossip.
“I’ve often wondered,” Eric said, “whether your father always encouraged your interest in estate management.”
“He encouraged me to think.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.” Adelaide smiled faintly. “It isn’t.”
They slowed as Elise paused beside a woman weaving baskets.
“My father believed intelligence served no purpose if confined by convention. My cousins learned accounts because they would inherit estates. I learned them because numbers refused to care whether I wore skirts.”
She found herself continuing.
“Women’s rights have never truly been about proving women capable.”
“No?”
“They already are capable.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “It is convincing everyone else.”
“You intend to do that personally?”
“If necessary.”
He studied her for a long moment. “I believe you.”
She laughed softly. “Most gentlemen hear those opinions and immediately prepare counterarguments.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Well, you aren’t arguing.”
“Should I?” He continued without waiting for her reply. “I have reached the conclusion that ignoring evidence of your passion on the subject would make me a poorer steward than I hope to be.”
Something unexpectedly warm settled in her chest because he had listened. A sudden breeze swept down the lane then, and her shawl slipped from one shoulder. “Oh—”
She reached for it as did Eric, and for a moment their hands met. His fingers brushed the back of hers before both instinctively stopped.
The world continued around them. Merchants called prices. Wheels rattled over stone. Somewhere farther down the lane a dog barked. And yet the small space between their hands seemed strangely still.
Eric recovered first, lifting the shawl gently back over her shoulders. “There.”
“Thank you.”
His fingers lingered only long enough to settle the fabric.
“Adelaide,” the little girl announced with complete seriousness, “you look very handsome together.”
“I beg your pardon?” Adelaide asked.
“You smile differently,” Elise continued, her wide eyes tracking their movements unsubtly.
Eric cleared his throat at that, and Adelaide laughed outright. “I believe we’ve been judged and apparently found acceptable.”
Before either could say more, an elderly gentleman emerged from the doorway of the village smithy. “Well?”
The voice carried unmistakable amusement. “I was beginning to wonder whether His Grace intended to ignore perfectly sensible advice forever.”
Eric turned. “Mr. Higgins!”
The older man walked with a cane now, though the lively expression beneath his silver brows had lost none of its sharpness. “You’ve finally done it.”
“So it appears.”
Mr. Higgins looked toward Adelaide. “My dear duchess, you have my congratulations.”
“I suspect they’re misplaced.”
“Oh?”
“He has informed me he required considerable convincing,” she said quickly.
Eric sighed, and Mr. Higgins chuckled. “I merely reminded a stubborn young fool that loneliness has never built a particularly satisfying future.”
Adelaide looked between them. “You discussed our marriage before we ever met?”
“We discussed his refusal to consider one,” Mr. Higgins corrected. “Fortunately, Providence appears to possess better judgment than dukes.”
Eric actually laughed then, and it was a sound that Adelaide wished she could bottle up and save for a rainy day. Only then did the older gentleman notice Elise standing beside Adelaide.
His expression softened immediately. “Well, now.” He crouched slowly. “And who might this young lady be?”
“Hello, sir. I am Elise Hale,” she said and curtsied earnestly.
Mr. Higgins blinked, and something almost like surprise crossed his face before disappearing beneath practiced warmth. “A pleasure, and what lovely hair you have today.”
“Today? This is my hair every day, but my bonnet is new!”
“I see. I once knew a young lass who had curls such as yours. It looked grand under all sorts of colored bonnets.”
“Really? I don’t like green though,” Elise said and blushed easily. “Where is the girl now? Can she come play with me at Wolverton?”
“Oh, she is— Well, she is no longer here in Wilbury, but I shall remember her most fondly.”
“You’re quite old… Are you sure you remember?”
“I’ve received that observation before, but I assure you my memory is almost as good as yours.” He smiled kindly. “Do you draw?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps one day you’ll draw an old man looking considerably younger.”
“I can try.”
“I should be grateful.”
As they prepared to part, Adelaide smiled. “My father should arrive sometime next week, and I hope you’ll join us for dinner.”
Mr. Higgins looked genuinely touched. “I should like that very much, Your Grace.”
“I insist.”
He inclined his head. “Then I shall look forward to it.”
They left Wilbury as the afternoon sun began dipping toward the trees. The journey home felt shorter, and Adelaide had not realized until then how much she had needed an ordinary day. She carried that feeling with her all the way to Wolverton.
It disappeared the moment they entered the front hall.
Mrs. Graves waited at the foot of the staircase and curtsied perfectly. “Your Grace.”
Something in the woman’s expression immediately unsettled Adelaide.
Eric removed his gloves. “What is it?”
“Mr. Sullyard arrived shortly after luncheon.”
Atlas. Before Adelaide could respond, the housekeeper continued. “Mrs. Sullyard has accompanied him.”
Loretta.
The name settled heavily in Adelaide’s stomach.
“They requested permission to remain several weeks while arrangements are made concerning nearby properties.”
Eric’s brows lifted slightly. “They’re staying?”
“So I understand it, Your Grace.”
Mrs. Graves lowered her eyes with impeccable respect, but Adelaide did not miss the smallest glimmer of satisfaction that flickered across the woman’s face before it disappeared again.
She had enjoyed delivering the news far more than anyone ought. And somehow Adelaide suspected that had very little to do with Atlas at all.