Chapter 24 #2
“Wolverton’s London holdings.”
That caught him. “What about them?”
“There is a dispute involving the Fitzroy property. Harrington sent word at dawn. If it isn’t resolved immediately, the tenants may be removed while the matter is challenged.”
Eric frowned and took the letter. “Why wasn’t this sent directly to me?”
“It was. The messenger arrived at my rooms first because Harrington knew I was here.” Atlas’s explanation came easily, wrapped in concern.
“I’ve already ordered the carriage. I thought I might spare you the journey, but the papers require the titleholder’s signature and apparently no proxy will satisfy the other solicitor.”
Eric read quickly, and Adelaide watched his face fall into the stony, dutiful, duke. This was something that could still summon him when almost nothing else could.
“When?”
“Today.”
Eric looked toward her, and Atlas followed his gaze and seemed to understand that he had interrupted something, though he politely looked away. “I’ll wait downstairs.”
Atlas disappeared without delay, but for several seconds, neither Eric nor Adelaide spoke. He looked at the paper in his hand as though considering whether setting fire to it might solve every difficulty.
“I have to go, but I don’t want to.”
“I know,” she said automatically. Though his latter sentiment mattered more than she expected it to. Adelaide rose. “How long?”
“A day if the roads cooperate. Two at most.”
“You should settle it properly.”
“I should.” He came back to her.
“This conversation is not finished.”
“No.” He searched her face. “When I return… w e finish this.”
Adelaide’s answer sat directly behind her teeth. The words were there now. She almost gave them to him. Instead, she smiled and squeezed his hand.
“When you return.”
Eric held her gaze for one last moment before reluctantly stepping away, and then he was gone.
Adelaide stood in the suddenly quiet room listening to his footsteps retreat down the corridor, her own confession still warm and useless behind her lips.
By the time the carriage wheels sounded across the drive below, she realized she had never told her husband that she loved him too.
***
The day after Eric left, Wolverton seemed to have drawn inward again.
Nothing had truly changed, yet Adelaide noticed the quiet in places she had not noticed it before: his empty chair at breakfast, the absence of his footsteps crossing the gallery, the stable yard without his voice carrying over the grooms.
She disliked how quickly she had become accustomed to looking for him and disliked even more that the words she had failed to say now seemed to follow her through every room.
By late morning, she had given up pretending correspondence could hold her attention. Theodore’s questions about Violet had been waiting too, unresolved and increasingly difficult to dismiss, so she went upstairs intending only to find her friend and ask one careful question.
“Violet?”
No answer came from the dressing room. Adelaide checked the bedchamber next, then the small sewing room overlooking the east lawn. Empty. She was nearly at the servants’ stair when voices drifted from the narrower passage beyond the linen cupboards.
“I said I should go, sir.”
Adelaide stopped. Violet.
The answer came low enough that Adelaide might not have heard it had the corridor not been so quiet.
Then Atlas laughed. “You have said that twice.”
“And I mean it.”
There was no mistaking Violet’s tone now. Adelaide moved toward the sound. Atlas replied with the easy indulgence of a gentleman humoring someone he believed had no authority to refuse him. “You are remarkably serious for a lady’s maid.”
“I am working.”
“Then consider this a rest.”
“I do not require one.”
Adelaide rounded the corner. Violet stood with her back nearly against the paneled wall, one hand gripping the folded linens she had been carrying so tightly that the fabric had bunched beneath her fingers.
Atlas stood before her, not touching her, but close enough that the space itself had become an accusation. One arm rested against the wall beside Violet’s shoulder, blocking the easiest path away.
Violet saw Adelaide first. The relief that crossed her face was so naked that Adelaide’s stomach turned. Atlas followed her gaze and looked over his shoulder. “Your Grace.”
He straightened only slightly, but Adelaide did not return the greeting. “Move.”
Atlas blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Step away from her.”
For one moment his expression sharpened, then the familiar charm returned. “I fear you have misunderstood.”
“I very rarely misunderstand a woman asking to be allowed to leave.”
Violet lowered her eyes, though Adelaide could see her breathing too quickly. Atlas stepped back at last, smoothing one cuff as though the distance had been entirely his idea.
“We were only speaking.”
“No,” Adelaide said. “You were speaking. She was attempting to end the conversation.”
A small smile touched his mouth. “You make it sound rather sinister.”
“You are standing in the servants’ passage with a woman trapped against a wall.”
“Trapped?” He glanced toward Violet almost mockingly. “Surely that is dramatic.”