Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Winston urged his horse into a steady canter along the winding country road toward Farnsworth Hall.
The late summer sun was already high enough to glint off the distant windows of the great house.
He was late, and he knew it. Louisa would be disappointed, Cordelia would be vexed, and he would have to endure the subtle whispers of Society about his discourtesy.
Yet still he had delayed, circling Greystone’s stables longer than he needed, searching for excuses that did not exist.
The thought of immersing himself in the swell of the ton, their practiced smiles, sly assessments, and idle cruelties spoken behind gloved hands, was intolerable. He had no wish to endure their whispers, nor to be measured like a prize stallion and found either desirable or wanting.
Perhaps life would be simpler in the New World, the Americas, where land is vast and men are not so tightly bound by centuries of custom and inherited expectation.
But he was no free man. Thoughts of flight abroad were nothing more than fantasy. A commoner could make such a choice. He was the Duke of Greystone and Briarwood, and duty was his prison.
The gardens of Farnsworth Hall came into view, already crowded with parasols and carriages.
Grooms in livery lined the drive. Winston swung down from his horse and passed the reins to a waiting boy.
Straightening his coat, he strode through the wrought-iron gates, his boots crunching on the gravel as he surveyed the sweep of the lawn.
Music drifted across the manicured grass, mingling with the laughter of guests.
Women in silks and muslins paraded arm-in-arm, their companions following like attendant shadows.
Winston scanned the crowd, searching for his family.
He spotted Cordelia easily enough. She was surrounded by a bevy of ladies, gesturing elegantly with her fan, holding court as though she had been born to the role.
She was, and so was I, but I have never taken to it. My father would be in his element here.
She noticed him at once and, with a quick flick of her wrist, beckoned him to join her.
The ladies turned as well, eyes bright with curiosity.
Some smiled with what they no doubt considered coy allure, others with frank interest. Winston felt the familiar tightening in his chest. He knew what was expected of him.
Duty demanded that he cross the lawn, offer charming words, and let himself be admired.
For the Dukedom. For Louisa. For everything his father had built, he was expected to maintain and improve upon.
But his feet did not move. He stood rooted, fighting the urge to turn back toward the stables and ride until the house and its expectations were nothing but a memory behind him.
My father would have cursed me for a coward.
Henry Burgess had been a man of unbending principle, never flinching before duty.
Compared to him, Winston was a shadow, faltering under burdens he ought to carry without complaint.
The tall, clipped hedges of the garden maze caught his eye.
Surely, the lush greenery was planted for amusement.
But to Winston, it looked like escape. He hesitated for only a moment before turning away from Cordelia’s watchful gaze and stepping into the cool shade of the maze.
At first, he followed the winding path with purpose, striding along as though he could lose himself by speed alone. But the deeper he went, the more the noise of the party faded, until all he heard was the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the crunch of gravel beneath his boots.
It was then that the memories returned as they always did when silence left space for them.
He saw her. Not as she had been at the end, but as she was in those fleeting, tender moments at the beginning.
Pale hair catching the light, laughter on her lips, always just ahead of him.
The ghost that haunted him. She flitted through his mind’s eye, graceful and elusive, as though the maze itself conjured her.
She deserved a man who truly loved her. That she could truly love.
A man who did not see marriage as an obligation.
He had failed her, failed in ways no one else could ever know.
He bore that guilt alone, and it weighed heavier than any Dukedom.
He turned a corner sharply, blind to what lay beyond as he fought to force the memory away.
And there, sudden as a striking hawk, stood Adeline.
His first thought was of Louisa. Her voice carried faintly from somewhere beyond the hedges, calling for her governess. Winston’s chest tightened.
“Where is Louisa?” His tone was harsher than intended.
Adeline startled slightly at his sudden appearance, then recovered herself.
“She ran ahead. We became separated, but I shall find her soon enough.”
Winston seized on the opportunity to stoke the annoyance that simmered always near the surface when she was near.
“You let her run off alone? You are responsible for her, Miss Wilkinson.”
Her chin lifted, defiance sparking in her eyes.
“I take that responsibility very seriously, Your Grace. She is safe within the maze, and her laughter proves she is not afraid. Children must be allowed some freedom.”
Her reply was respectful, but only just. Winston’s jaw tightened.
She looked beautiful in her new gown. It revealed the pale, perfect feminine skin of her arms, neck, and chest. Revealed and suggested.
Entirely respectable and utterly beguiling when she was the one wearing it.
Winston recognized his danger and saw the desire to just look at her.
Or to be close to her. A danger to be avoided at all costs.
She is angry at my disrespect. Perhaps if I provoke her, she will break the bounds of propriety and give me cause to dismiss her before the end of this damnable trial.
Better that, he told himself, than allow the pull he felt toward her to deepen. They walked side by side, Louisa’s voice growing more distant with every turn.
“We appear to be losing my child,” Winston noted as they backtracked from another dead end.
“It is a diversion, not a trial of endurance,” Adeline said calmly. “She cannot come to harm.”
“That is hardly the point. She is alone, and her governess is separated from her. That should not occur.”
The narrow passageways of the maze forced them to either walk single file or so close alongside each other that their shoulders brushed.
Winston felt a thrill at such contact. The scent of the hedges could not disguise the fragrance that came from Adeline.
That heady female mix of flowers with a hint of exotic citrus tang.
Suddenly, she stopped, tossing her head. Winston also stopped, frowning.
“What is it?”
“I believe there is an insect in my hair,” Adeline said, her voice tight with control.
She shook her head again, more forcefully.
“I felt something drop onto my head and I believe that I can still feel it…”
Winston could see that the idea was distressing her. Each moment that passed saw her brows furrow and her head tossed vehemently. Adeline raised her hands as though to shake it free, and Winston stepped close. He took her hands, gently but firmly.
“Do not do that, or when we emerge it will look as though you climbed through these damned hedges backwards.”
“It is quite…exasperating. I have something of a…weakness…” The effort of avoiding panic was clear.
“Let me see if I can find the little fellow and rid you of it,” Winston said gently.
Adeline was actually trembling as he lowered her hands and leaned close to peer into her hair.
The scent of it flooded his senses. He wanted to breathe in deeply, to press his face into her silky tresses.
This close, the soft perfection of her skin was intoxicating.
It demanded to be kissed. To be caressed.
The thought of his breath touching her throat felt like a tantalizing intimacy.
He forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, gently moving her hair aside until he found a tiny green insect clinging to a lock of hair just behind her ear.
He cupped his hands around it and softly blew.
Adeline shifted, her body pressing momentarily against Winston’s.
He felt the shudder run through her. It might have been revulsion at his closeness, but the flush of her cheeks, the parting of her lips said it was not. The creature took wing and flew away.
“It is gone,” Winston whispered. “You are quite safe.”
She looked at him silently, eyes wide. She bit her lip. Winston was conscious of how close their faces were, how easy it would be to steal a kiss.
“You did not bite me this time,” Adeline said.
Winston felt himself blushing, and he smiled tightly.
“I restrained myself.”
“Thank you.”
“For restraining myself?”
“For helping me. I have something of a phobia of crawling things.”
Winston saw the crossroads ahead of him. One way led to a better understanding of Adeline, perhaps a closeness born out of that. The other led to him keeping her at arm’s length, pushing her away.
I will not risk attachment. Not for me or for Louisa. Especially not Louisa.
“I expect Louisa to be given a rounded education, including natural history.”
“I will not allow my fear to interfere with her lessons,” Adeline said as Winston stepped away from her.
It was like tearing off his own skin. There was a yawning sense of loss as he put distance between them, physically and emotionally.
“See that it does not. This way.”
Adeline’s reply came cool and steady. “You are going in the wrong direction.”
“Louisa’s voice is quite clearly on the other side of this corner,” Winston scoffed, putting arrogance into his voice to gain further distance. He turned the corner, only to be confronted by a wall of hedges. A dead end. The heat of embarrassment rose in his cheeks.
Just say one word. Just one!