Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Winston urged his horse forward, hooves striking earth with the steady rhythm he craved. Oswald Lambourne, Earl of Duskwood, rode alongside, his usual cheer irritating and comforting in equal measure.
“You’re troubled,” Oswald said at last, breaking the silence. “I’d wager it’s the new governess.”
Winston scowled. “She is unsuitable. Louisa requires discipline and patience. Not someone who clambers about in trees like a peasant child. And my mother does not need any more encouragement in her wild behavior.”
Oswald’s laugh rang out. “So, she has spirit. That’s hardly a crime.”
“It is unladylike,” Winston snapped.
“Ah,” Oswald grinned. “But is she beautiful?”
Winston’s jaw clenched. “That is irrelevant.”
“Which means she is,” Oswald countered. “You would not be so curt otherwise. Tell me, Greystone, when was the last time you so much as looked at a woman? Not since…”
“Enough.” The word lashed like a whip. “You overstep, Duskwood.”
Winston had reigned his horse in, and Oswald followed suit, trotting back to Winston’s side.
I should not have taken Oswald up on his offer of a ride. I should be meeting with Adeline and dismissing her from my mother and daughter’s service.
His horse became restive, sensing his mood. Winston patted its neck reassuringly. Oswald held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Forgive me. Only sooner or later, you must consider an heir. Louisa cannot inherit, and the Burgess name will end with you. Isn’t it about time you started looking for a wife? Surely the presence of a pretty woman in your household has given you the idea. There are plenty of them out there.”
“You seek to lecture me?” Winston demanded.
“Advise. As I have always done since we were at school together, remember?”
“I remember having to talk you out of trouble more often than you did for me,” Winston said.
“That is because I had no one to give me good advice, unlike you,” Oswald replied with a straight face.
Ordinarily, Oswald’s mischievous sense of humor would have had Winston laughing. But today his sour mood would not be dislodged.
That is why I accepted the invitation. Because I wanted to be drawn out of this dark mood.
His grip on the reins tightened until the leather creaked. He needed release, something to drown the burn of memory clawing at the edges of his mind. A beautiful face. Blonde with green eyes. Smiling. Happy. But then defiant and challenging.
When was the last time anyone dared to defy me?
The memory of Adeline’s blazing eyes was replaced by another face. One with dark, melancholy eyes and an accusing expression. Winston shook his head as though to dislodge the accusation and thereby escape the guilt.
“Let us race,” he barked, spurring his horse into a gallop before Oswald could reply.
Wind tore at his hair, stung his eyes. The pounding of hooves drowned thought, but not enough.
For even as the land blurred, he saw her, the ghost who shadowed his every step.
The scent of lilac clung to the air. Always there.
Always accusing. He pushed harder, as though he might outrun her. He did not.
By the time they returned to Greystone, his temper was frayed, his body restless. He dismounted roughly, leaving Oswald to hand both mounts over to the stable hands, and strode into the house.
Music reached him first. A melody carried through the corridor, faint but sharp enough to cut straight into him. He froze, breath catching. That tune. He had not heard it in years.
I swore I would never hear it again.
Yet here it was, played with aching tenderness, as though she had been conjured back to life. Pain ripped through him, sudden and raw. He pushed into the music room.
“Stop,” he said harshly.
Adeline’s hands stilled on the keys. The room fell silent. Cordelia looked startled. Louisa frowned. Oswald, just catching up to Winston, arched a brow.
“It is too mournful a piece,” Winston said, his voice rougher than he intended. “Play something else.”
The silence stretched. Adeline’s eyes fixed on him, curiously, questioning, but she turned back to the keys.
This time she played a brighter melody, her voice lifting to join it.
Clear, strong, threaded with warmth. The room transformed, Louisa clapped in delight, Cordelia smiled with pride, and even Oswald leaned forward, entranced.
Winston felt something inside his chest twist. Adeline was proving herself accomplished. That, in turn, proved her credentials to be a governess. That notion made him feel light inside because it meant that he would be seeing Adeline daily.
She is disrespectful and sets a bad example for Louisa. I do not want a woman like that around here.
She looked up from the pianoforte as she sang.
Music flowed from her effortlessly. Their eyes met.
Hers were light and bright. Her heart shone through them.
His were dark, smoldering with tempered emotions.
He saw the color bloom on her cheeks, saw her bite her lower lip in between verses.
Cordelia looked from Adeline to Winston, but he had already looked away.
When the song ended, Oswald stepped forward with his easy charm.
“Exquisite, Lady Adeline. You must allow me to accompany you sometime, perhaps I on the violin, you on the pianoforte? We would make a fine duet.”
Adeline laughed lightly, the color in her cheeks blooming once more. Something hot and ugly surged in Winston’s gut. He clenched his fists behind his back, forcing himself to be still and composed. But each flirtatious glance, each smile between them, struck him like a blow.
“Lady Adeline,” he said at last, too abruptly. All eyes turned to him. “I would speak with you. In my study.”
Her expression flickered, but she inclined her head. Winston did not wait. He strode from the music room and down the hallway to his study. By the time she arrived, he stood by the hearth, watching her. She closed the heavy oak door behind herself. Adeline’s face was still flushed from the music.
Perhaps from the flirtation, too?
He hated how easily the sight of her bright eyes unsettled him, undermined his previous certainty.
“Aside from having a bit of musical training, I am also versed in the works of the great poets and have been known to write a few lines myself,” Adeline said, as though assuming that this was an interview for the job.
She stood before him, calm and collected. Only the color in her cheeks told him that her own emotions might be as heightened as his.
“Excellent. You have accomplished the minimum required by an English gentlewoman,” Winston said, throwing himself into an armchair and propping one riding boot onto a pouffe.
It was a pose designed to look insolent and uncaring. Adeline pressed her lips together, taking in a breath through her nose and looking around the room. Winston felt a brief moment of triumph.
“I think if you were to treat me in an unprejudiced manner, you would admit that I am accomplished in the gentle arts.”
Winston shrugged. “So, you say.”
The red in Adeline’s cheeks deepened. Her eyes caught fire, and she took a step towards him. She stood over him with one finger raised.
“Do you wag your finger at me?” Winston asked.
“No, not at all,” Adeline replied, lowering her hand, “though your insulting tone probably deserves an equally insolent response. But I will withdraw because I would not want my finger bitten…again.”
Winston grinned savagely. “It was you who bit me first.”
“It was you who touched me first.”
“Only to quiet you so I could get a word in.”
“There are ways of doing that without laying hands upon a person,” Adeline said, quickly.
“So, I assaulted you?”
“Hardly. Merely an unwanted touch,” Adeline replied.
“This is becoming a recipe for dismissal, exchanging insults with your employer.”
“You are not my employer. And I have not insulted you.”
“Implying that I force myself upon defenseless women is an insult.”
Despite himself, Winston was enjoying the dance. He felt himself engaged in a duel, parrying each response with a counterattack of his own. He wondered what the prize would be for the victor.
“Why have you taken against me so violently?” Adeline asked.
It was not a demand. It was an honest response, plaintive. He could hear it in her voice. See it in her eyes. He saw her then, not fierce but vulnerable.
If I had a mind to, I could exploit that. Apply pressure that forces her to acquiesce.
But he knew he would not. Now that her vulnerability was revealed, he found himself wanting to rise above the taunting and teasing.
He wished to assure her that all was well.
Even to embrace her. The thought of holding her in his arms, as he had done of necessity when they had fallen down the stairs, was intoxicating.
His eyes briefly wandered, taking in her slim figure. Then it returned to her face.
“I have not taken against you,” Winston heard himself saying, propelling himself from the chair. “I have only been less than hospitable—until now.”
He walked to a decanter of ruby red liquid on a sideboard. “Would you join me in a burgundy?” He poured himself a glass and raised an eyebrow, holding the decanter over another glass. Adeline nodded.
“A small measure,” she said.
He poured and then handed her the glass. Their fingers touched. Winston felt the thrill that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“I asked you here,” he began, voice controlled, “because of Louisa. She is my life. Everything I do, I do for her.”
There. I have gone against my highest principle. The most important lesson my father had for me. Show no weakness. What will she do with it?
Adeline sipped delicately.
“That is good to know. Not all fathers are so…paternal.”
Winston felt the brief spark of kinship.
“They are certainly not,” he said. Then, he motioned to a vacant chair and said in a voice that was almost cordial, “Sit.”