Chapter 19
“I have had a letter from Mr. Fletcher,” Eric said, setting down the folded page beside his breakfast plate. “The village assembly is this Saturday.”
Theodore looked up first. “So soon in the season?”
“It comes earlier this year. Something about the harvest.”
Adelaide buttered a slice of toast. “Will the whole village attend?”
“The whole village, several neighboring farms, and anyone within ten miles who enjoys poor dancing.”
“You say that as though you’ve survived it.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“I was forced to judge pies for nearly two hours.”
She laughed. “That sounds perfectly dreadful.”
“It became considerably worse after Mrs. Hensley learned I preferred Mrs. Parker’s blackberry tart.”
“I imagine she never forgave you.”
“Not until Easter.”
Elise’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. “The assembly? Is this the one that has all the ribbons?”
Eric nodded. “The very same.”
“And dancing and cakes?”
“Unfortunately…”
She gasped dramatically. “We get to go?”
“We ,” he said, turning to Adelaide, “must attend. But as our guests, you are not expected to —”
“No!” She frowned with great seriousness. “All of us.”
The room quieted, and Adelaide and her father both smiled into her tea. Theodore seemed to hang on his next words with a painfully obvious sort of anticipation.
“If you insist, Little Miss, it shall be done.”
Elise shook her head emphatically. “And Mama too.”
At that moment, the footman beside the sideboard paused while pouring fresh tea into Adelaide’s cup. It was only for an instant. His eyes lifted toward Eric almost instinctively, uncertainty plain enough for anyone paying attention.
A lady’s maid did not attend village festivities alongside the family.
Eric met the man’s gaze and said nothing. Though he didn’t need to. The footman lowered his eyes immediately and continued pouring as though the hesitation had never happened.
Across the table, the frustratingly observant Theodore Holbrook had noticed it as well. “Well…” he started slowly. “She should attend,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s hardly a London ball.”
Adelaide glanced toward Eric. “Only if you think it appropriate.”
He looked from his wife to Elise, whose hopeful expression had become almost painful in its intensity.
“I think,” he replied evenly, “that if Violet wishes to accompany your household, no one else need concern themselves with the matter.”
Elise clapped her hands. “I’ll go tell Mama!”
She was halfway from her chair before Adelaide caught her sleeve. “Finish your breakfast first.”
“But what if someone else tells her?”
“I rather think she’ll still be there in five minutes.”
Theodore hid his smile behind his tea. “I confess, I should like her to come as well. It would be a shame for her to miss out. Are the house’s staff not typically allowed a night off to attend such events?”
Adelaide’s eyes flickered toward him, amusement dancing there. “What a great idea, Theodore.” Her gaze found Eric’s with expectation.
“If Abigail believes it is best, I see no reason to keep them from such festivities—” He turned to the footman. “Please ask her to find me later this afternoon and we shall discuss it.”
“Very well, Your Grace,” the man said, the embarrassed flush still present across his nose and cheeks.
Theodore spoke next, not missing a beat. “I’ve found Violet has considerably more patience with my stories than either you or His Grace or even your father.”
“Oh, come now,” the earl said quickly, clearing his throat before continuing. “I have simply endured your stories at least twice by now. My patience cannot be expected to be infinite. Can it?”
“You have a point, Papa,” Adelaide said laughing before taking another bite of her breakfast. It was not lost on Eric that Elise had been watching her and taking bites at the same pace as Adelaide, which made him smile to himself.
“Well,” Adelaide said eventually. “I believe we’ll leave her to make the final decision after Elise tells her.”
“She’ll come,” Elise announced confidently.
“And how can you be so certain?”
“Because,” she said, as though explaining something obvious to remarkably slow adults, “Mama hasn’t been to a festival in forever. At least not since before she met my papa—that’s what she told me anyway.”
For reasons Eric couldn’t entirely explain, that simple observation settled over the table more quietly than the conversation before it. Eric returned to his tea, deciding the matter had already been settled long before anyone at the table realized it.
***
The village assembly had been held on the common for longer than anyone present could remember.
By the time Eric and the rest of the household arrived, lanterns already hung from ropes stretched between the old oaks, their glass panes catching the last gold of evening.
Long tables stood beneath striped awnings laden with fresh loaves, roasted meats, berry tarts, and cider drawn straight from polished barrels.
Children darted between laughing adults with ribbons trailing from their sleeves, while somewhere near the center of the green a fiddler argued cheerfully with the village flutist over the proper tempo of the next dance.
“This hardly resembles Almack’s,” Atlas observed beside him, accepting a mug of cider from a passing farmer.
Eric looked around at the uneven rows of dancers, boots already muddy, skirts lifted without concern for fashion, and elderly couples smiling as though no one had invented embarrassment. “I should hope not.”
Atlas grinned. “I thought you disliked assemblies.”
“I generally do.”
“And yet…”
Eric found himself watching Adelaide instead of answering.
She had scarcely stepped from the carriage before three village women claimed her attention, speaking over one another while she somehow managed to follow every conversation at once.
Within moments she was laughing with them as naturally as though they had been acquainted for years. Elise stood proudly beside her explaining, with tremendous authority for someone seven years old, exactly how Bramble had behaved during her riding lesson that morning.
“You’ll spoil her,” one woman laughed.
“I’ve been told I already have,” Adelaide replied.
“And has it worked?”
Elise answered before anyone else could. “Very well.”
The women dissolved into laughter, and Eric surprised himself by smiling. He had expected Adelaide to endure the evening politely. Instead, she seemed to belong here. Not because anyone bowed lower than necessary or addressed her as a duchess, but because she simply listened.
Old Mr. Barker cornered her to complain about drainage along the eastern fields. Two children proudly displayed a frog they’d caught beside the stream. Mrs. Hensley insisted Adelaide taste her blackberry preserves immediately and looked genuinely delighted when she accepted.
There wasn’t an ounce of performance in it.
Atlas followed his gaze. “You’ve been staring at your wife for nearly five minutes. One might think you actually like her, especially when you smile like that.”
“I deny that entirely.”
“Convenient.”
Before Eric could answer, a familiar voice called across the green.
“Your Grace!”
Elise came charging toward him with enough enthusiasm to scatter two chickens and narrowly miss colliding with the fiddler. She caught his sleeve. “You must come.”
“Must I?”
“Immediately.”
“I was under the impression dukes occasionally refused commands.”
“Not this one. Not from me!” She tugged harder. “My new friends don’t believe you’re real. I need to show them that you are.”
Atlas laughed outright “I beg your pardon?”
“They think I am lying.”
Eric looked toward Atlas. “Can one resign from being a duke?”
“Unfortunately not.”
Elise had already begun pulling him through the crowd. “They said I couldn’t possibly know a duke who lets me hold the reins.”
“And naturally you chose to settle the matter.”
“Yes.”
Eric sighed with exaggerated resignation. “I see I have no choice.”
“You really don’t.” She led him toward three children standing near the maypole. The eldest boy immediately straightened so abruptly he nearly lost his cap.
“I told you!” Elise declared triumphantly. “See?”
The children stared and Eric found himself suppressing another smile. “Good evening.”
The smallest girl whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “He sounds ordinary.”
“I am rather fond of being ordinary.”
That finally broke their astonishment, and within minutes they were asking questions all at once.
Do dukes own dragons?
No.
Can you ride every horse?
Certainly not.
Is Wolverton haunted?
Occasionally, after poor weather and excessive cider.
The children accepted that explanation with alarming seriousness, and when Eric eventually escaped, Atlas was waiting nearby, arms folded, a reckless smile spread across his face. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you interrogated by seven-year-olds.”
“They are considerably more intimidating than m embers of Parliament.”
“I thought you’d say highwaymen.”
“At least highwaymen and brigands negotiate.”
Atlas chuckled. The music shifted into a quicker country reel, and couples began forming untidy lines across the common.
Eric searched automatically for Adelaide.
Theodore stood beside her saying something that made her throw back her head and laugh without restraint. Several yards beyond them, Violet stood among Mr. Bailey and a small gathering of village women, half-turned from the green as she listened to their conversation.
Theodore’s attention wandered toward her often enough to be obvious, though Violet herself seemed perfectly content to remain at the edges of the gathering.
Adelaide answered something Theodore had said, drawing Eric’s attention firmly back to his wife at the precise moment that Theodore touched Adelaide’s elbow lightly while pointing toward the dancers.
Knowing their relationship, he knew that the gesture was nothing improper, but Eric disliked it anyway. His jaw tightened before he could think better of it.
Atlas followed his line of sight with practiced casualness. “They seem rather comfortable together.”