Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Adeline awoke in a haze of warmth, her breath unsteady.
Her body felt new to her. It tingled with the remnants of the night before.
Memories of the night’s dreams swam up from the depths of her mind.
She tasted the lurid, fevered visions of Winston.
His hands upon her. His mouth claimed hers with unrestrained ferocity.
A ferocity that had undone her. It was not the kind of dream she might once have felt ashamed of, but something that left her flushed and restless.
Her limbs felt languid against the sheets.
She lay there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling.
The afterglow of passion still smoldered within her as well as the aching certainty that it could not last.
It is not Adeline Warren that Winston touched, but the woman I pretend to be.
A name borrowed. Story rehearsed and a life built on falsehoods.
The sweetness of their encounter curdled into sadness as she rose.
She dressed slowly, her fingers clumsy at her laces, as though every tie bound her tighter to the inevitability of loss.
However many days remained in her masquerade, she knew they were numbered.
The longer she stayed, the worse the blow would be when the truth surfaced.
And all I do is make the inevitable harder. Harder on myself but more importantly on all of them.
Her mind turned to Cordelia. The Dowager Duchess, had a keen eye and commanding presence, but so far, she had overlooked Adeline’s falsehoods.
She would not forgive deceit. To be cast out by Cordelia would be one thing but to be dragged in irons before the constables, accused by her own father of crimes she had not committed?
That would be ruinous. From that, her relationships could never recover.
The Duke? She could not fathom what he would think of her.
Louisa? She would be heartbroken. Adeline could not countenance doing that to her. But how could she avoid it?
Oh, why did that fire have to break out. I was content at Briarwood. None knew I existed, and we were far from everyone.
Her mind returned to Winston, as though she were in his orbit. She dared not picture his reaction.
Will he shun me? Will he hate me?
Then another face rose before her mind’s eye, the woman that Cordelia had told her was Lady Amelia de Burgh.
The woman Cordelia regarded as eminently suitable for her son.
Lovely, poised, laughing with Winston in the sunlight.
In the haze of passion, Adeline had thought herself the sole object of his desire.
Now, in the clear and pitiless morning, she wondered if she had been merely a distraction.
Perhaps he sees me as nothing more than a dalliance.
A casual affair, while that other young woman with her smiling elegance was destined to be his Duchess. A Duchess untainted by secrets. The image of them leaning close, heads nearly touching, lingered in her imagination until it swelled grotesque and unbearable.
I have no claim on him. No right to jealousy at all. If he wants to associate with her then that is his right!
Jealousy gnawed at her all the same. Adeline resolved to find Louisa, if only to ground herself in duty.
She searched the breakfast room, the music room, even the gallery, but the girl was nowhere to be found.
Each empty chamber sharpened her unease until, at last, she discovered her young charge curled in her bed, pale and tearful, refusing to emerge.
“Dearest, whatever is the matter?” Adeline asked gently, kneeling by the bedside.
Louisa buried her face deeper into her pillows. For long minutes she would say nothing until, at last, in a trembling whisper, she confessed. “I think I am dying.”
Adeline’s heart seized. “Dying?”
Louisa nodded miserably. “I woke in the night with terrible cramps. And then there was blood. On the sheets. I am still bleeding. Something dreadful has happened, I know it. I am diseased. I shall die and leave Papa alone.”
Relief swept through Adeline so forcefully she nearly laughed. But she did not. She took Louisa’s hands instead, her voice low and soothing. “My sweet girl, you are not dying. What you are experiencing is entirely natural. You are not diseased. You are becoming a woman.”
Louisa blinked, baffled. Adeline explained, gently and delicately, what it meant to menstruate.
She explained that this was a sign not of death but of maturity.
Then she told Louisa that she, too, went through the same experience for a few days every month.
And so had her mother and her grandmother.
All women everywhere in the world, in fact. Louisa listened wide-eyed.
“Papa does not need to know, does he?” she asked.
“Not if you don’t want me to tell him. It is perfectly natural and there is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, but it is your private business at the end of the day.”
“I don’t want to tell him,” Louisa said firmly, her face scarlet.
“Then we will not,” Adeline assured her, stroking the young girl’s hair and smiling. “But may I tell your grandmama?”
Louisa bit her lip. “She goes through it, too?”
“No, it stops when you reach a certain age. But she did when she was your age.”
“Very well.”
“And I will need to tell Mrs. Donovan so that she can ensure your bedding is laundered discreetly and you are given extra linen,” Adeline said, firmly.
“But not Papa,” Louisa emphasized.
“Most certainly not.”
“It hurts. I do not feel like I can go downstairs today,” Louisa said, holding her stomach and curling up in her bed.
Adeline stroked her forehead.
“Then remain here. I will tell your father you are suffering from a summer cold, and a day of bed rest is called for. We will see how you are feeling in the morning.”
Louisa, comforted at last, clutched Adeline’s hand with gratitude.
When she finally left the child to sleep, Adeline’s heart ached.
To leave Louisa now seemed impossible. She felt a maternal bond so fierce it made her throat tight.
The thought that Louisa might one day learn the truth, that her beloved governess had been a fraud and a liar, was unbearable.
It steeled Adeline’s resolve. Confession must come soon so that she could make her exit before the bonds with the family became too strong.
“Where is my daughter? Why is she not at her lessons?” Winston demanded.
Adeline was walking with Cordelia in the gardens, admiring the monarch butterflies that were fluttering around the rose beds. Cordelia raised an eyebrow as her son stalked across the lawn towards them.
“There are few things as arrogant and overbearing as an English gentleman in his castle armed with a feeling of grievance,” Cordelia whispered to Adeline.
Winston’s stride was quick, his expression taut. Adeline met his gaze calmly, though her heart beat fast.
“Louisa is unwell, Your Grace. A summer chill. I thought it best that she rest.”
Winston frowned.
“You are too indulgent. Children will seize any excuse to shirk their studies. She must learn discipline.”
Adeline stiffened. “Forgive me, but she is in no state to concentrate today. It takes effort. Rest will do her more good than recitation.”
There was no discernible warmth in his eyes, no hint of the fire that had consumed them both the night before. Adeline had found hay in her hair when she was dressing, thankful that she had spotted it before leaving her room. He gave no sign that anything had happened.
Adeline looked into his eyes as directly as she dared and for as long as she could. She didn’t want Cordelia to notice anything but, equally, found herself desperate for some sign of what was on Winston’s mind.
“You berated the last governess for being too strict with Louisa,” Cordelia pointed out. “You cannot have it both ways, Winston.”
“I can if that is what is best for Louisa. That is all that matters to me,” Winston replied. “If she is unwell, I will go up and look in on her…”
“No!” Adeline said sharply, then quickly moderated her tone. “I’m sorry, but I left her sleeping. I do not think it would be wise to wake her. Let the illness take its course. It is only mild.”
“Of course,” Winston said drily.
“I am sorry for sounding vehement. I am merely taking care of my charge. As is my duty,” Adeline said.
“And doing an admirable job,” Cordelia put in. “Your successor, when we find her, will have a hard act to follow.”
“It has been a matter of days, Mother. Do not get ahead of yourself.”
“And I have not yet decided…” Adeline began, seeing an opportunity to speak something of the uncomfortable truth she carried.
But Cordelia was only listening to herself. She continued on.
“I merely think of what is best for my granddaughter and I trust Adeline implicitly.”
“There are many governesses, with experience and expertise. We have not tried them all.”
“Nor do we need to. The bond between Adeline and Louisa is like mother and daughter.”
Adeline tried to speak at that point, but Winston snapped.
“Adeline is not Louisa’s mother!”
“No, I am not. Nor do I wish to be,” Adeline finally interjected, earning stares from both Cordelia and Winston. “What I mean is, Louisa has had a mother. I have no desire to replace her. In only wish to instruct and teach her. And to be her friend.”
Winston’s stare lingered on Adeline the longest. She felt stripped naked by his eyes. Her cheeks heated and her breathing quickened. She was conscious of Cordelia’s attention upon them both and fought to appear detached.
If Cordelia knew the heat that her son creates in me, she would surely send me away, thinking me attempting to ensnare a Duke.