Chapter 19 #2
Eric said nothing. “Childhood friendships often look remarkably like something else… Y ou know already that they’re old friends.”
“So I’ve heard.” Atlas took another drink. “Still…” He shrugged. “Some attachments are difficult to outgrow.”
The words landed lightly, and Eric watched Theodore lean nearer to hear Adelaide over the music. She answered with another smile.
An absurd, sharp, heat climbed into his chest. He knew perfectly well that he was being thoroughly unreasonable. Theodore had done nothing deserving resentment. He knew Adelaide had offered him no cause for mistrust. He knew Atlas had merely spoken aloud what anyone could observe.
But none of it mattered because all he could see was another man occupying the place beside his wife that, quite suddenly, Eric found he wanted for himself.
Without another thought, he set down his untouched cider and crossed the green.
Theodore noticed him first. “Ah,” he said pleasantly. “We were just deciding whether Adelaide ought to—”
“I believe,” Eric interrupted with equal politeness, “I owe my wife this next dance.”
Adelaide turned, and for the briefest instant surprise crossed her face. Then, slowly, she smiled and placed her hand in his.
“I believe,” Adelaide said as Eric guided her into the line, “you have just taken me from a conversation that was perfectly pleasant.”
“You are right.”
“That is an unusual admission.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “I shall remember that forever.”
The fiddler struck the opening notes before either of them said more. Around them, boots scuffed the packed earth as couples formed neat rows that dissolved almost immediately into cheerful disorder.
This was no polished London assembly where every movement had been rehearsed since childhood. Here, people laughed when they missed a step, apologized without embarrassment, and simply rejoined the dance where they could.
Eric found himself unexpectedly grateful for it as it gave him an excuse not to think.
Adelaide’s gloved fingers rested lightly in his. She followed the pattern easily enough, though she laughed when the farmer opposite turned the wrong direction and nearly sent three couples into one another.
“I believe,” she said as they circled back together, “we’ve just witnessed a revolution in country dancing.”
“I’ve seen military campaigns conducted with greater precision.”
“And fewer casualties. To be sure.”
“So far that is quite true.”
She laughed again, and the sound settled something inside him that had been drawn painfully tight all evening. As the figures carried them apart and together again, the conversation gradually disappeared. He became aware instead of smaller things.
The lantern light softened the gold in her hair. The breeze carried the scent of lavender from somewhere beyond the green. Every time the dance brought them close again, her eyes found his almost instinctively. She wasn’t looking away anymore. Her eyes never left his.
The music faded into the background, and the laughter surrounding them blurred. For several turns of the dance, it felt absurdly as though the crowded village green had emptied until only the two of them remained.
Her hand slipped into his again, and he should have released it the instant propriety allowed. Instead, he held it long enough for her to notice.
There was no teasing in her eyes, only a quiet curiosity. “You’re still thinking about Theodore,” she said softly.
He could have denied it, but he found that he didn’t wish to. “Yes.”
She studied him for another moment before smiling with unmistakable fondness. “Do not be jealous. You truly have nothing to fear with him.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“It doesn’t if you actually trusted your wife.”
Another turn carried them briefly apart before they met again near the center of the formation.
“Theodore has been my friend since we were children.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“He climbed trees with me.”
Eric waited.
“He once broke his arm trying to convince me he could jump from the stable roof.”
“I begin to understand him.”
“I pushed him afterward.”
“You’re not helping his case.”
She laughed. “My point is that I’ve never once looked at Theodore as anything other than the brother I never had.”
Something in Eric eased. “And what about Theodore?”
She tilted her head. “What about him?”
“How does he look at you?”
Adelaide looked positively delighted. “You are concerned about the absolute wrong things, and even more so, you have made it quite obvious after marching across an entire village assembly to interrupt our conversation.”
“I simply asked my wife to dance.”
“You interrupted… at best. But you looked rather heroic regardless.”
Despite himself, Eric smiled. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.” She leaned in just enough that only he could hear her. “Theodore has barely even registered my presence since he met Violet three years ago.”
Eric frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He is quite hopeless around her.”
“I fail to see —”
“He is entirely captivated by her.” He caught himself finding Theordore in the crowd, and the realization arrived all at once.
Eric let out a quiet breath. “I’ve been a fool.”
“I wasn’t going to say it outright, but yes.”
The next figure required him to place one hand lightly at her waist. She was close enough now that he could count the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. There were words pressing insistently against his ribs. But instead, he held her gaze.
And she didn’t look away.
“Adelaide —” he started to say, but the dance ended to generous applause from people who had missed as many steps as they’d completed.
He straightened and offered his arm to her, which she accepted without hesitation.
“I think,” she said, “we’ve both earned a little fresh air.”
“I was thinking the same,” he said, steering her back to Theodore . “I will get us some refreshments.”
She smiled at him gratefully, and he gave her a slight bow before turning toward the drinks. The sounds of the festival continued behind him, cheerful and distant now, while the fields beyond lay wrapped in silver moonlight.
Eric had almost reached the table when he heard voices drift up from behind the hedge bordering the assembly. A young woman laughed nervously, and he slowed, craning his neck to hear the origin of the sound.
“… Sir, I really should return,” the woman said, voice tight.
“Nonsense.”
Atlas. Eric recognized the voice immediately.
He stepped around the hedge before he had fully decided to, and saw that a village girl stood backed against the old stone wall, twisting her apron anxiously between her fingers. Atlas leaned one hand against the wall beside her, smiling with all his usual charm.
Only the smile did not reach his eyes.
“I’ve already said good evening,” the girl murmured.
“And I merely wished to prolong it.”
“I oughtn’t.”
“You worry far too much. Don’t you remember who I am to be?”
She shifted as though to step around him, but Atlas moved just enough to block the way again. Almost playfully.
But the woman had stopped trying to smile.
Eric had heard and seen enough, but instead of interrupting, he stepped back from the hedge to conceal himself and spoke loudly, then. “Is anyone there?”
He heard the inevitable scurrying of footsteps and hushed whispers before finally Atlas appeared from around the corner.
His cousin’s entire expression had changed from what he had witnessed only a moment before. The easy warmth returned so naturally to his features and posture that Eric almost wondered whether he’d imagined the entire exchange
“There you are!” Atlas said, chuckling. “How was the reel?”
“It was fine.” Eric said distractedly as his eyes darted over his cousin’s shoulder briefly. “Was I interrupting something?”
His cousin shrugged. “Not at all! I was simply giving some kitchen girl an order. Abigail sent her down from the house. Not to worry.”
That explanation would have normally satisfied him, and yet as Eric watched Atlas smiling beneath the lantern light, something settled uncomfortably inside his chest.
A lie?
Only the smallest fracture in a trust that had always seemed immovable. Yet once the thought had taken root, Eric found he could not quite dismiss it.