Chapter 10
A few days later, Adrian was settled in his study sorting through some of his own estate papers when he heard the rattle of carriage wheels through his open window.
He looked out, startled to see a hired chaise pull up in the courtyard and, moments later, deposit his sister with a small travelling bag at her side.
He walked quickly down the hall and outside, his heart beating in his chest. She had only been gone a short time, and did not have a history of returning from London when there was still fun to be had in high society.
He met her in the foyer as she handed her travelling valise off to her lady’s maid.
“Honoria,” he said, concern slipping into his voice despite his efforts to remain calm. “You are back early.”
“You need not be worried, brother,” she said, smiling warmly at him. “I can see the concern in your eyes.”
“As well you ought, for I am concerned,” he said, walking with her into the parlor as she deposited her gloves and hat on the sideboard. “Did something happen in London to drive you home ahead of schedule?”
She rang the bell and, when a servant appeared moments later, sent for a pot of tea before answering her brother’s question. “Not exactly,” she said. “I was having a lovely time, as always—but I wanted to come home for a few days to see you. Any new developments with the lovely Miss Thorne?”
“You will not distract me so easily,” he said, pulling up a chair at her side. “You say ‘not exactly,’ which means there was something that sent you home for this unexpected visit.”
“Brother,” she said, rolling her eyes, “you are so set in your ways—you are like an old man, holed up here in the middle of nowhere with no visitors to speak of. In other places, the return of a beloved sister would be welcomed.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed.
“Very well, I do have a piece of news I thought would be better delivered personally.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the plush chair. “But let it be known that I wanted to come back and visit anyway—this is just further impetus.”
“The record shall show as much,” he said, gesturing for her to continue.
She hesitated, and then spoke slowly, as though breaking bad news. “Mrs. Seraphina Vane—Miss Everett, as you knew her—is taking up residence in the old Vane cottage three miles off from here, and means to spend the Season in the country.”
It surprised Adrian to find, even all these years later, that Seraphina’s name still had the power to stop his heart for a sickening moment.
He forced an even tone. “I would think she and Mr. Vane would be spending the Season in London. She always preferred to be at the center of the ton.”
Honoria frowned. “She has been widowed these fifteen months, Adrian. Tell me you knew that—it is impossible that you are removed enough from society as to overlook such a relevant detail.”
He shook his head, a sickening lurch in his stomach at the news. “I have had no news of Miss Everette—Mrs. Vane, I mean—since hearing of her wedding. You certainly never speak of her.”
“In the past I did not make a habit of mentioning her name, because it seemed to grieve you greatly,” Honoria said, with unexpected tenderness, “but if I failed to tell you of her late husband’s death, it was an oversight indeed.”
Adrian gathered his wits about him, like the tattered edges of a cloak.
“I… I still am surprised that she is choosing to spend the Season in the country,” he said slowly.
“If she is widowed, and out of the period of grieving, I imagine London would draw her back as it used to. She is still a worthy catch, I am certain.”
Honoria raised an eyebrow. “That is what I was thinking,” she said slowly.
“And why I wished to speak with you in person. I keep wondering—why would Mrs. Vane, who we both know prizes an advantageous marriage above all else, choose to spend such a valuable social season hiding away in the countryside?” She smiled slowly.
“Unless she thinks there is an advantageous marriage lurking somewhere in these woods, dear brother…”
The maid appeared with the tea service, and for a moment Adrian and Honoria were forced to hold their counsel until tea was poured and they were left alone again. Honoria sipped happily, eying her brother over the rim of her cup, but Adrian had no desire for simple comforts.
He stood and walked away from her, looking out the window towards the distant Vane cottage.
He could not see it from this vantage, but he knew it well.
In the years following Seraphina’s rejection of his hand, Adrian had thought often of how close that elegant cottage was to his own estate.
The proximity almost burned, it had so consumed his thoughts.
The feeling had faded with time, as these things often did, and he was not sure how he felt to have it dragged back to the surface.
“Mrs. Vane was only interested in the advantageous marriage for the sake of money and security,” he said quietly. “With her husband’s passing, she will have both. They had no children. He will have left her an allotment, I am certain.”
“Not according to Aunt Brearley,” Honoria said. “She says the Vane money was less than half what was given out at the engagement, and that what remained had to go to pay creditors. Apparently old Mr. Vane had a bit of a thing for the horses, and not much luck to accompany his habit.”
“You should not speak ill of the dead,” Adrian said gravely, turning back to his sister.
“I am just giving you the facts.” Honoria took another sip.
“Aunt Brearley’s modiste has not been paid by the Vane estate, and the suspicion is that Seraphina is in the country because she cannot afford London.
” She narrowed her gaze at her brother. “But, I think she is here for another reason entirely.”
He took a deep breath. “I know what you are implying, but it is nonsense. Whatever once existed between Seraphina and myself is now over and done with. She made her choice, and she made it quite publicly.”
He could remember, as though it was yesterday, how it had felt to have a glittering jewel like Seraphina on his arm as he stewarded her about London.
The balls were full of magic with her at his side, her dark eyes turned to him; the jealousy of other men following them like the trail of her ball gown, her laughter at his jokes, how she hung on his arm… He could almost taste the punch and hear the string music in the ballroom…
But then it had ended in a sickening lurch.
Mr. Vane had appeared on the scene, dressed in the finest clothes, with glittering friends and a carriage as elegant as the king’s.
Then, Adrian had not been a viscount. He still had an elder brother, and a father—to Seraphina his only prospects were that of a second son and a war hero. Mr. Vane may have been old and rotund and rude, but the choice seemed easy enough for Seraphina, the dark-haired jewel of the ton.
She stopped entertaining Adrian’s affections, coldly turning him down at the last dance of the Season and announcing her betrothal to the entire ballroom while his cheeks burned with fury and embarrassment.
The whispers had been rampant, following him around town until he slipped away into the country to nurse his wounds.
“Perhaps she regrets her choice,” Honoria said quietly, setting her tea cup aside.
“Is that why you have returned, to watch on the sidelines for some love story to rekindle?” Adrian asked, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “If so, you will be disappointed.”
“Whatever you think of me, brother, I have your best interest at heart,” Honoria said, standing and smoothing her skirts.
“I did come back to deliver the news, but not to watch some performance play out before me—no, I wanted to be here to support you. You were not the same after that heartbreak, and if you were risking a repetition, I wanted to be there at your side to warn you.”
Adrian felt a stab of regret. He sighed, and stood as well. “I regret speaking so harshly to you,” he said, gentling. “I know you mean well. It is just… I came here to escape that world, and Seraphina moving into the country for the Season feels as though my escape was for nothing.”
“If you do not wish to see her, there is nothing that will compel you, I am certain,” Honoria said. She smiled sadly, and took her leave of the room. Adrian stayed behind, turning again to look out the window, towards the cottage where the woman he had once loved was now living.
***
“His paces are improving,” Adrian said to Rosalind the next morning as they watched Harry take the cob around the paddock, adjusting more smoothly from a trot into a canter, and then falling back again to a walk. “See how far he has come in such a short time?”
Mrs. Hollis had accompanied Rosalind that morning to the lesson, but was now standing against the paddock some distance away, watching Harry and giving space for Rosalind and Adrian to speak.
So far, they had only used the privacy to discuss Harry’s progress, and for Adrian to point out a few key aspects of their lessons that Rosalind did not understand.
“I am glad to see it,” she said.
He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, assuming, almost subconsciously, a defensive posture. “Miss Thorne, might I ask your advice on a rather sensitive matter?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Certainly, my lord.”
“It is not a breach of our friendship?”
She laughed. “I think you know enough details about my life that would be better held back from the world at large, my lord. As long as you have such blackmail over me, I will be forced to keep your secrets as well.”
“Our friendship, seen through those terms, has a rather brutal undertone, does it not?” he asked, smiling despite himself.
She gave a small nod of encouragement. “Go on, then. Ask for my advice—I assure you it will be staggeringly intelligent.”
“I have no doubt.” He shifted slightly from one foot to the other. “It is about my new neighbor. I do not know if you have heard, but the Vane cottage three miles hence has been taken up with the widow Mrs. Vane, who plans to spend the Season here in the country.”
“Ah,” Rosalind said, polite but clearly uninterested. “I hope it shall be a peaceful retreat for her.”
He searched her eyes. “You do not know Mrs. Vane?”
“Not at all,” Rosalind said, shrugging. “I suppose I ought to, since she is so near to the area—but the Vane cottage has only been used by hunters for years now. I do not believe I ever even met Mr. Vane. He was quite well put up, if I remember correctly.”
“He was thought to be, at least,” Adrian said drily.
“Mrs. Vane is well known to me—or, at least, she was… back when she was Miss Seraphina Everett.” He waited, but still saw no reaction on her face.
He realized that this was likely because his engagement to Seraphina had been almost entirely carried out in London, under the eye of a ton Rosalind seemed to disdain.
“She and I had an understanding, at one time,” he said hoarsely.
“Then she realized Mr. Vane, and his ten thousand pounds, were more handsome in a certain light.”
“Aha.” Still, Rosalind’s face was markedly guarded. Her eyes held his, and questions, unspoken, lurked in the sapphire depths. “Do you intend to receive her, while she is in the county?”
“No, of course not,” he said, turning away from her, his arms still crossed. “I am certain we have nothing to discuss, and I hardly receive anybody as it is. Why should I make an adjustment for Mrs. Vane?”
She raised an eyebrow, and hesitated. “It is your right, of course,” she said at last, “but perhaps not your best course of action, to turn her away. If you wish the neighborhood to judge the matter quietly, you should behave as though her sudden reappearance is ordinary in the extreme. Receiving her would send that message clearly.”
He narrowed his eyes. “My dear Miss Thorne, you are troublingly sensible.”
“I have been told as much,” she said, hiding a smile.