Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Winston woke with a start, the dawn light piercing through the curtains to spear his open eyes.
His heart was pounding, and his breath shallow.
The dream had already begun to dissolve into fragments.
All he remembered was Adeline, her lips parted as though for a kiss, her eyes luminous in lamplight.
Pale fingers trembled just above the keys of the piano.
He had leaned toward her, impossibly close, until…
He cursed under his breath and swung his legs from the bed.
To dream of her was one thing; to wake with the taste of longing still bitter on his tongue was intolerable.
He was a man who prided himself on control, on keeping duty and discipline like a sword’s edge between himself and weakness.
Yet one slip of a woman, a stranger still, threatened to undo it all.
I must remember that attachment is a weakness. I cannot afford to show weakness. Louisa cannot afford for me to be feeble.
His father had arranged Winston’s first marriage, and the wreckage of it lay heavy in the graves of Greystone. His first wife’s shadow haunted him still, a reminder that love, or something mistaken for it, could destroy more than one life.
What if Adeline suffers a similar fate? If I become attached or worse, if Louisa becomes attached, the result will be devastation.
The thought hollowed him with dread. Louisa could not afford such grief.
Her infancy had spared her the grief that lay on Winston like a yoke.
He could not allow her to be exposed to that risk.
She would be happy and ignorant of death.
He yanked the bell for his valet, pacing as he waited.
He would not indulge this folly. Adeline Wilkinson was a governess only temporarily.
Once Briarwood was restored, his mother would want her Lady-In-Waiting back.
Better to avoid attachment now than grieve later.
By the time his valet entered, Winston’s mood was set. He was unyielding as granite.
I should take breakfast up here. Avoid Adeline.
The idea was firmly rejected as he dressed in silence, jaw tight.
To hide there, to skulk away because of her, would be cowardly.
He was Duke of Greystone. He would not be driven from his own table by any woman.
The second, but most important reason that he could not hide away came through the door with her usual whirlwind.
Louisa skipped in, a burst of energy and sunshine.
She had always come for him each morning, her small hand slipping into his. It belonged there.
“Papa, come! You are dawdling. Cook says the rolls are hot.”
Winston’s scowl melted, as it always did with her.
He allowed her to tug him toward the stairs, and their usual morning chatter filled the halls.
She asked about the horses, whether she might ride her pony to the village fete next year.
Beneath his answers, Winston weighed how to prepare her.
He would not let Louisa’s heart be broken.
“You know, Louisa,” he began cautiously, “your grandmother’s house will not be under repair forever. When Briarwood is restored, Adeline will naturally return there with her. We shall have to find a new governess.”
Louisa stopped mid-step, blinking up at him. “Return? Why would she do that?”
“Because her duties lie with your grandmother, not here,” Winston said firmly. “She was never meant to stay forever.”
His daughter’s lips pressed into a stubborn line. “But she is my governess now.”
The words struck harder than they should have. Winston frowned.
“She is not your property, Louisa.”
The attachment is already there. It will be hard to break that fondness. Damn you, Mother, for putting Louisa in this position!
“She helps me with my lessons. She listens to me. She does not scold me when I ask about Mama,” Louisa’s voice trembled. “I don’t want her to go.”
Winston’s chest tightened. He should have anticipated this.
He could not blame his mother for introducing them both to Adeline but himself for permitting the closeness.
Perhaps Adeline had encouraged it. Women could be calculating, even when they smiled sweetly.
Perhaps she had insinuated herself into Cordelia’s good graces, and now Louisa’s.
The thought gave him grim satisfaction, a weapon against his own weakness: if he painted her motives black, then the pull she exerted might fade.
They reached the breakfast room, his mood dark once more. Cordelia and Adeline were already seated, the latter quiet and composed, as though yesterday’s music room incident had never happened. That, too, stoked his anger.
Why should I feel tormented when she seems so unaffected?
Cordelia, of course, would not let matters rest. “Winston,” she said brightly, “you must attend Lady Farnsworth’s garden party with us tomorrow. It will be the event of the week, if not the month.”
He set his jaw. “I think not.”
“Oh, but you must.” Cordelia’s tone sharpened. “You are a Duke. You cannot sulk at Greystone forever. The ton must be reminded that you exist, and that you are…available.”
Louisa clapped her hands. “Yes, Papa! You should go. It will be so much fun!”
“There is no need,” Winston muttered. “I have no taste for idle chatter and frivolities.”
Cordelia’s gaze hardened. “This is not about taste. It is about duty. You must be seen. You must be married again. You must provide an heir. If the ladies of the ton do not know that you are eligible then you will never be married.”
The words landed like blows. Winston’s hand tightened around his fork. He could not argue against duty. Not when she framed it thus. So, he lashed out instead. His eyes fixed on Adeline.
“What do you think, Miss Wilkinson? Shall I parade myself like a prize bull for Society’s approval?”
Adeline’s cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady.
“I think it is highly appropriate for a Duke to attend a social engagement. And it would be good for Louisa to observe how proper ladies and gentlemen conduct themselves.”
Her answer, reasonable though it was, stung. Winston’s lip curled.
“And do you intend to invite yourself, then? To instruct her personally?”
Her blush deepened. “It is not my place.”
“It is precisely your place,” Cordelia cut in. “Adeline is my Lady-in-Waiting. Naturally, she will accompany me.”
Winston scoffed. “What nonsense. A governess at a Society party?”
Cordelia rolled her eyes skyward. “You are intolerable. Adeline attends as my companion, not as yours. Kindly remember the distinction.”
Adeline had gone very still, her gaze lowered to her plate. Winston felt a pang.
Did I hurt her? Good!
He felt savage. He tried to make himself feel that he did not care. That he wanted distance even if it came at the expense of wounded feelings. It was hard to convince himself.
Better her wounded pride than Louisa’s broken heart.
He straightened. “Very well. I accept my duty. I will attend.”
But as the matter was settled, Winston could not shake the sense that he had lost something far greater than an argument.
Adeline felt a weight settle on her shoulders as she dressed for the garden party the next morning.
Oh, how I have dreaded this day. Prayed for a storm that would force Lady Farnsworth to cancel.
But such wishes were foolish. There would be no escape.
Even if extraordinary circumstances arose and the garden was flooded with rain droplets, the event would simply be moved inside Farnsworth Hall.
Though Cordelia and Louisa spoke of it with excitement, Adeline’s stomach twisted at the thought of entering a crowd where any face might know her father.
Or know her secret. One careless glance, one unguarded word might undo everything. And then there was Winston.
Since the moment in the music room, they had barely exchanged two words.
He had disappeared to London, spending long hours at his club.
It is probably a blessing. I cannot seem to control myself or my feelings when I am in his company.
I cannot afford to become attached when I do not know how long I will have here.
Adeline Wilkinson might have a short life expectancy if Robert Grebe had been telling anything even remotely adjacent to the truth. She did not want a broken heart but was prepared to endure any pain to spare Louisa that fate.
I watch doors. I listen for his step. I ache with questions which I have no right to ask. Like, are you avoiding me?
It would be better if he were. For both their sakes.
She could not build a life upon a lie, no matter how desperately she wished it.
Her destiny was dark, already written in blood and shadow.
She had lost her mother, lost the man her father had once been, and now she lived beneath threat of discovery and blackmail.
Longing for someone, longing for anyone, was foolishness.
As she dressed and pinned her hair, she could not banish the wish that there might be someone strong enough to bear the burden from her shoulders, if only for a little while.
As well, wish to fly. It is past time for pragmatism. An end to idealism. It only brings pain.
She schooled her face into brightness when she joined Cordelia and Louisa downstairs.
“My son has not returned. Even if he arrives now, still wearing the clothes he went out in last night, we cannot afford the time to wait for him to bathe and change. He is infuriating at times!” Cordelia grumbled.
“Still, children. We are for sunshine and butterflies under a blue sky. We will not wait. Come!”
Louisa sulked, clearly disappointed as she followed her grandmother out of the house. Adeline found herself defending Winston.
“Perhaps he means to go directly to the party,” she said lightly. “I am sure he will meet us there.”
“You are an optimist, Adeline. Experience has jaded me when it comes to my son. But not my sunshine!”