Chapter 14
“My wife has always possessed remarkably good judgment.” The words came so evenly that, for a heartbeat, Adelaide wondered whether she had imagined them.
Her fingers remained wrapped around the stem of her wineglass. She had not realized how tightly until her knuckles began to ache.
Across the table, Loretta’s pleasant smile had not faltered, though satisfaction still lingered faintly behind it, as though she expected only a matter of seconds before Eric politely distanced himself from the awkwardness his new duchess had created.
Adelaide knew this moment because she had lived versions of it for years.
A gentleman would smile apologetically before explaining that women occasionally became… enthusiastic. Someone older would remind the room that politics did not suit feminine sensibilities. Another would laugh and suggest she would eventually abandon such notions after marriage.
Marriage had always been presented as the cure. She had prepared herself to discover whether it truly was.
Eric rested his knife beside his plate before looking directly at Loretta.
“I confess,” he continued, “I fail to understand why my wife’s interest in improving the lives of others should require explanation.”
The silence shifted, but Loretta’s smile remained intact. “I meant no criticism.”
“I did not say you had.” His voice stayed calm, almost conversational. “You merely implied that my wife ought perhaps to be embarrassed by convictions she has held long before becoming Duchess of Wolverton.”
Atlas glanced quietly between them.
“I only thought His Grace deserved to know—”
“I do know.” Three simple words.
Adelaide looked at him.
Eric met Loretta’s gaze without the slightest hint of discomfort. “I have known Adelaide’s opinions since before our marriage.”
The use of her name struck her almost as deeply as the words themselves. “She has never attempted to conceal them from me.”
“No,” Loretta admitted carefully.
“One of the qualities I admire most in her is that she believes something ought to improve only after first determining whether it truly can.” He turned then, not toward Loretta, but toward Adelaide herself.
“She asks difficult questions.” His expression softened almost imperceptibly. “She also expects honest answers.”
The warmth in his eyes lasted only an instant before he looked back across the table. “I find those qualities considerably preferable to comfortable silence.”
Adelaide forgot to breathe.
She had prepared herself for compromise, for a quiet conversation afterward in which he might ask her to be more discreet for the sake of appearances. Instead he had spoken of her convictions as though they were virtues.
Something deep inside her shifted with quiet certainty.
She had spent years arguing that women deserved husbands who stood beside them instead of before them. Until this moment, she had never fully appreciated what that might actually feel like.
It was unexpectedly difficult to remember why she had ever feared him.
Loretta’s composure finally slipped, though only by a fraction. “I apologize,” she said after a measured pause. “It was never my intention to create discomfort.”
Atlas set down his glass. “I believe,” he said gently, though there was unmistakable firmness beneath the kindness, “that involving oneself in another marriage rarely produces the intended result.”
Loretta turned toward him. “You’re quite right.” The apology she offered him carried genuine contrition. “I should not have presumed to speak where it was not my place.”
Atlas smiled softly, the tension easing from his features. “I know your intentions were good.”
“They were.” She looked briefly toward Adelaide. “And I owe you an apology as well, Your Grace. My curiosity exceeded my manners.”
Adelaide inclined her head. “Thank you.”
Nothing more needed saying.
Conversation resumed cautiously around the table, though it took several moments before anyone seemed entirely willing to trust that the uncomfortable moment had truly passed.
Adelaide scarcely heard any of it.
She found herself watching Eric instead, who had already returned to his meal as though nothing remarkable had occurred. Perhaps, to him, it hadn’t. But to her, someone had challenged the room instead of asking her to shrink within it. And somehow that man was her husband.
***
Morning settled gently over Wolverton, carrying with it the cool sweetness of damp grass and the distant nickering of horses beyond the paddocks. Adelaide had decided, with perhaps more confidence than wisdom, that there was no better day for Elise’s first proper riding lesson.
Unfortunately, confidence and ability were proving to be entirely separate qualities.
“No, no…” Adelaide laughed as the pony obediently took three careful steps before Elise leaned so far to one side she nearly slid onto its neck. “You’re hugging him. Horses generally prefer admiration from a respectful distance.”
“I thought he looked lonely.”
“I’m certain he appreciates the sentiment.”
Elise straightened with exaggerated seriousness. “Like this?”
“A little less stiff.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I’ve discovered that neither do I.” The confession sent Elise into delighted giggles.
“You said you rode all the time!”
“I did.”
“Then why are you bad at teaching?”
Adelaide rested a hand dramatically against her chest. “Because, my dear, riding and explaining how to ride are apparently two very different talents.”
“So we’re both learning?”
“I’m afraid we are.”
“I think we’re doing splendidly.”
“You are wonderfully encouraging.”
A familiar voice drifted toward them from behind.
“I was just wondering who had declared war on proper instruction.”
Adelaide turned to find Eric approaching across the grass, his hands tucked loosely behind his back. He had exchanged yesterday’s formal attire for a dark riding coat and simple boots, and the morning sunlight caught the lighter strands in his hair as he drew nearer.
She smiled before she realized she was doing it. “I’m delighted someone has arrived to rescue us.”
Eric looked between her and Elise. “Is it truly so desperate?”
“I’ve nearly convinced her to embrace the horse whenever she loses her balance.”
“I see.”
“And she keeps asking perfectly sensible questions to which I apparently have no sensible answers.”
Elise lifted both hands dramatically. “She doesn’t know anything.”
Adelaide gasped. “Such betrayal.”
Eric’s mouth twitched. “I suppose I’d better intervene before this poor pony begins doubting his own training.”
He stepped to the gelding’s shoulder, resting one reassuring hand against its neck before looking up at Elise. “Would you permit me to show you something?”
She nodded enthusiastically. Eric didn’t immediately adjust her posture. Instead, he placed one hand lightly over hers where they rested on the reins. “Can you feel him breathing?”
Elise frowned thoughtfully. “I think so.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because if you feel him, he’ll begin feeling you.”
She blinked. “Horses listen before they’re told anything.”
“They do?”
“They’re rather clever.”
Eric smiled faintly. “If you become frightened, he knows. If you become calm, he knows that too.”
Elise’s shoulders slowly relaxed. “There.”
Eric adjusted her hands only after she’d settled herself. “Now sit as though you’re growing taller instead of holding tighter.”
The difference was immediate.
Adelaide watched with quiet fascination. Instruction came as though he genuinely expected Elise to succeed. “There you are,” he said warmly as the pony began another slow circuit. “Very well done.”
“I did it!”
“You did.”
“I wasn’t hugging him!”
“No. You were listening to each other.”
The pride that lit Elise’s face might have rivaled the morning sun.
Adelaide felt something tighten unexpectedly inside her. He wasn’t merely tolerating a child because circumstance required it. He was seeking her confidence and offering it without asking for anything in return.
For a man who insisted he wished to keep everyone at arm’s length, he possessed an astonishing instinct for drawing frightened people closer. It seemed almost impossible that someone capable of such quiet tenderness could fear affection as deeply as he did.
Unless… she thought softly, watching him praise Elise again … he knew exactly how much it hurt to lose.
Violet appeared from the path carrying a wicker basket over one arm. “I suspected lessons might require refreshments, but I must make haste. I have to finish up the laundry before luncheon.”
“You’ve saved us,” Adelaide declared as Violet set the basket on the blanket and pressed herself upright.
Adelaide watched on as Violet admired Elise from afar for a moment longer before gathering her skirts and excusing herself back to the house.
Within minutes Eric brought Elise over and they were seated beneath the broad shade of an oak.
“I listened. Did you see me?” Elise said as she happily devoured bread spread with blackberry preserves.
Eric nodded. “She did.”
Adelaide smiled across the blanket. “I did see. He let you get so close! We should ask His Grace to give you lessons from now on, as it seems my methods have proven to be—”
“Oh, no, no! You weren’t hopeless,” Eric interrupted between bites.
She looked toward Eric. “That is remarkably generous.”
“I said not hopeless, but I stopped just short of competent.”
She laughed. “That sounds much more accurate.”
Elise swallowed another bite. “Adelaide kept saying to sit tall. And Eric said to listen.”
Adelaide leaned over, demonstrating with her hands how Elise had finally relaxed her shoulders. “She looked rather like this once she understood—”
Eric reached to mimic the position at precisely the same moment.
Their fingers met again, and both paused.
“Oh!” Elise announced loudly. “You did it again!”
Neither adult moved. “What exactly have we done?” Adelaide asked, far more calmly than she felt.
“You touched hands.”
Eric quietly withdrew. “Entirely by accident.”
Elise grinned. “And now you are blushing.”
Adelaide looked at him in time to see a touch of unexpected color had appeared across his cheeks, and she bit the inside of hers. “I believe,” she said with admirable dignity, “that children ought not announce such observations.”
“But he is.”
Eric’s shoulders started shaking as he hid his laughter and rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “I seem to have become today’s entertainment.”
“You truly have,” Adelaide admitted.
His embarrassed smile made all four of them laugh. The morning passed more quickly than any of them intended. Eventually, Violet returned and Adelaide rose, brushing grass from her skirt.
“Come along, Elise. It is that time.”
“Already?”
“Yes, you see your mother has already come back to retrieve you for your afternoon bath and nap.”
The child groaned dramatically. “I want to stay with the horses.”
“I expected as much.”
Eric offered Elise his hand. “It was a pleasure instructing you this morning, Little Miss. Would you do me the honor of joining me again tomorrow?”
Elise looked between them. “I would love to! Can I?”
“Yes, of course,” Adelaide said, and Eric flourished a dramatic bow which made them both giggle before she took Elise’s hand and led her the remaining distance from the picnic blanket.
Once Violet and Elise disappeared toward the house, silence settled comfortably over the hillside. They began walking together along the winding path overlooking the paddocks.
After several moments Eric spoke. “I owe you an apology.”
She glanced sideways. “For what?”
“My family.” He kept his eyes on the path ahead. “Last evening should never have happened.”
“It wasn’t your doing.”
“They were my guests.”
“Our guests,” Adelaide corrected gently.
He looked over and she smiled. “We’re married, Your Grace. You no longer bear every unpleasant circumstance alone.”
Something softened in his expression. “I still dislike that it happened.”
“I know.”
She reached down absently, letting her fingertips trail through the tops of the wild grasses lining the path. “I wasn’t frightened because Loretta questioned me.”
“No?”
“I was frightened because I thought you might.”
He stopped walking. “I rather enjoyed watching you defend yourself,” he admitted quietly.
She laughed. “I suspected as much.”
“There was something… familiar about it.” His smile grew thoughtful. “My sister never possessed much patience for people deciding who she ought to become.” He looked toward the distant hills. “You would have liked her.”
“I think so too,” Adelaide said softly.
His eyes returned to hers. “I believe she would have liked you as well.”
The words settled warmly between them. Adelaide wasn’t entirely certain what possessed her, but whatever the reason, she stepped a little closer. “You know,” she murmured, “I’m rather proud to have a husband who stands beside me.”
Before she could reconsider, she rose lightly onto her toes and pressed a brief kiss against his cheek. It lasted scarcely longer than a heartbeat.
When she stepped away, Eric remained perfectly still. His eyes had widened with complete surprise. A vivid flush spread slowly across his face.
Adelaide smiled to herself and resumed walking toward the house, leaving him standing for only a moment before he hurried after her. They had almost reached the front drive when the distant rumble of wheels broke the quiet.
Both turned together.
A carriage crested the long approach, rolling steadily between the rows of ancient oaks.
Adelaide’s smile faded and her brow furrowed, squinting to make out the seal on the carriage door.
“I—” she started to say, craning her neck and tilting her head as she watched it pass between from the shadows to the sunlight.
As it drew nearer, she recognized the family crest upon the door. “I know that carriage!”
Her father had arrived. And seated opposite him, visible through the carriage window as it slowed before the entrance, was another familiar face she had not expected to see.
“Theodore?”