Chapter Twenty-Five
Adaline’s breath caught in her throat at Lord Hugo’s…Hugo’s…request. She couldn’t possibly call him by his Christian name. Could she? Certainly not in public. Though, she had been doing so in her own mind for quite some time now. And she couldn’t call him Mayhem.
Mayhem.
She couldn’t believe he was actually standing there before her. Dancing with her. And he was Hugo. Now that she truly couldn’t believe. Though…she’d hoped…in the quiet corners of her mind she wouldn’t acknowledge even to herself. She had hoped.
Now that she knew his identity, she could admit it. The exhilaration racing through her confirmed that much. She knew if he had not turned out to be Mayhem, a part of her would have been disappointed. A very large part. And it would have presented a choice she wasn’t sure she could make.
Now… It certainly simplified matters. Well. Some matters. Others had just become vastly more complicated.
Not to mention, trying to reconcile a person she trusted implicitly with a person she trusted not at all—or not much—was making her head spin.
But if she had to pinpoint an emotion, she was…happy.
She thought.
Hugo watched her, amusement flitting across his face along with what she could only describe as triumph. Her eyes narrowed.
“Did you know?” she asked.
His brows raised. “Did I know what? Who you were?”
She nodded with a sharp jerk of her head, and he shook his. “No. I hoped,” he said with a slow smile that spread like a ray of warm sunshine through her veins. “And lately, I’ve suspected. But no. I didn’t know for certain until just a few moments ago.”
He’d hoped? Her heart did a happy little flutter that she did her best to ignore.
“What do you mean, you suspected?” she asked, focusing on that surprising revelation. “For how long?”
He shrugged. “Not very. There were things you said that reminded me of Millie. Or things Millie wrote about circumstances in which I was involved that sounded far too familiar for it to be a coincidence. But I couldn’t be certain.
Not until this evening when I saw you standing there, magnificent in your peahen feathers. ”
“Oh,” she said faintly. She should say more. There were hundreds of thoughts cascading in a riotous jumble through her mind. But she wasn’t sure she could grab a hold of any long enough to formulate an articulate response.
Mayhem was Hugo. Hugo was Mayhem.
For a moment, the world spun, the truth finally, fully setting in. The orchestra’s lilting strains faded, replaced by the roar of her pulse. Her Marquess of Mayhem was really Lord Hugo Brelsford. Her adversary in countless verbal duels, the man she increasingly loved to hate—or maybe just loved.
The thought stunned her. The letters that had soothed her loneliness and challenged her soul had been his all along. Joy, confusion, and a sharp-edged uncertainty warred within her. Did he feel the same? Was it possible he had known? Had he played her for a fool?
He watched her expectantly. And suddenly, she could no longer bear the press of curious eyes and swirling questions.
Adaline turned on her heel and wove her way through the crowd, skirts swishing in her wake.
She made her way down a quiet corridor, passing portraits of solemn-faced ancestors and other partygoers taking advantage of the night of anonymous revelry, until she finally slipped into the dim sanctuary of the library.
The heavy door closed behind her with a muffled thud, and she leaned against it, letting out a long shuddering breath.
Heavy brocaded drapes were parted to allow the full moonlight to filter through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Adaline pressed her hand to her chest, steadying her breath as she breathed in the scent of leather and parchment.
She finally pushed away from the door and wandered between the shelves, fingertips trailing over the gilded spines. Her mind was a chaotic tumble.
Had their written exchanges been truly anonymous?
Had Hugo known all along that she was Millie?
He said not. But he didn’t seem surprised to discover the truth.
Though perhaps he had just been better at putting the puzzle together than she.
That was a thought she did not enjoy though she couldn’t help an amused smile.
She took another deep breath, her thoughts spiraling. Each question gnawed at the fragile hope blooming in her heart. Hope…or hurt? She still wasn’t sure. Both perhaps. Anxiety certainly. What did all this mean for them now? There was probably no need to continue corresponding.
The thought saddened her. Though she and Hugo had been seeing each other more and more frequently, she would miss the letters from Mayhem.
The handle turned, and Adaline whirled, her gaze meeting Hugo’s as he slipped into the library and closed the door behind him. He paused, probably waiting to see if she would launch a book at his head. The idea had merit. Her hand hovered over a particularly hefty tome…just in case.
“Miss Girard,” he said, his voice low and measured as if he were trying not to spook her. Too late. “We need to speak.”
“I know,” she said. A thousand thoughts fought to escape all at once, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the exact right thing to say. Which was an impossibility she couldn’t quite deal with just then. She let her breath out in a rush and turned to flee again.
“Miss Girard…” Hugo reached out, grasping her hand. “Adaline.”
The sound of her name on his lips stopped her. She slowly looked up at him.
“Please don’t run from me,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
He gently pulled her to him, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her hand. The heat of him, even through the material of their gloves, sent a shiver through her. Not for the first time that evening, she wished she could feel his skin against hers.
“Why?” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I didn’t know. I swear to you. Not for certain. Not until tonight.” Hugo’s jaw tensed. “I must ask as well. Did you know? Before this evening?”
“Of course not! Or…not for certain, at least. I had begun to suspect…though I didn’t truly believe…” She shook her head. “No. I did not know.” She searched his eyes, desperate for truth. “Were the letters a jest to you? Another elaborate game?”
He shook his head, dark hair falling across his brow. “Never. I swear it.” His thumb brushed the back of her hand again, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “The letters were my refuge. They were…” His voice faltered. “They were everything. You were everything.”
She shook her head, though she could not stop a small smile from peeking through.
“Oh yes,” he said, his lips pulling into a half-grin.
“I stalked that hat shop like a madman, waiting for the next letter. I wanted to share everything with Millie. And then…I ran into you there. And then again in the marketplace. And the park. And the more time we spent together, the more time I wanted to spend with you. Yet I never stopped longing for Millie. I did not know, I swear it. But I couldn’t help but hope you could be—”
“But…” Adaline pulled her hand away, hugging it to her chest. She took a step back, her spine pressed to a bookshelf. “But you have always despised me.”
Hugo chuckled quietly. “Have I?”
“Yes,” Adaline said, voice rising with emotion. “All those arguments, all those… battles—”
“Were as much entertainment for me as they were for you. And do not try to deny it.”
She opened her mouth to do just that but could not. He was right. She enjoyed every moment of their verbal sparring.
“I never despised you, Adaline. Yes, I argued. Yes, I sparred with you. And yes, I will admit to a certain degree of…”
“Hate?”
His lips twitched. “Frustration. Our association did not begin in the best light. And I am at fault for occasionally responding to your justified anger poorly. But no, I never despised you. I might have harbored a few ill-advised, pre-conceived notions,” he said with a sheepish grin.
“But even in the beginning, I admired you. Your wit, your courage. I enjoyed our battles. As did you.”
She couldn’t stop the soft smile that stole across her lips.
“Yes. I did.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Her uncertainty warred with the longing she had tried so hard to hide.
The man who stood before her was no longer just the enemy she had loved to hate, nor solely the confidante she had adored in letters.
He was both. Finally standing before her. Heartbreakingly and beautifully real.
Hugo reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm. “I swear to you, Adaline, I did not know. Everything I’ve ever written to you was honest. More honest than I’ve ever been with anyone. I fell in love with you through those letters.”
Adaline sucked in a gasp, and Hugo smiled softly, caressing her face with his thumb.
“That was something I didn’t want to admit, even to myself until this very moment,” he said with a quiet chuckle. Then he sighed. “I’ve never been the best when dealing with emotions, I fear. Millie changed that. It seems it is easier to be honest with oneself when conversing anonymously.”
She smiled in agreement, having often felt the same thing. “There is no reason to lie when the person with whom you are corresponding does not know who you are.”
Hugo nodded. “Precisely. I not only got to know you better, I began to know myself as well. And your letters…there was never any judgement. Only understanding. I’ve never had that before. With anyone. I’ve never felt so connected to someone. So accepted.”
She nodded and looked down for a moment, trying to maintain her composure though her emotions threatened to overflow. “I felt much the same about Mayhem. You,” she said, glancing back up at him a bit shyly. It would take some getting used to, equating the two men in her mind.
“I fell in love with Millie through those letters,” he said, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch despite herself. “And the more time I spent with Adaline, the more I began to love her, too.”
Her eyes flew open, and he smiled down at her, his thumb moving to sweep just under her bottom lip.
“You have no idea how relieved I am to find that Millie and Adaline are one and the same.”
Adaline burst out laughing and then slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh, I have an idea,” she said, her voice still choked with laughter. “For I feel much the same about Mayhem and Hugo.”
She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes and let out a shuddering sigh.
“Do you have any idea the torment I’ve gone through the last several days?
Wondering who you were? Wondering what I would do if you were not Mayhem?
And what I would do if you were?” She laughed again and pressed her back against the bookshelf, her legs suddenly feeling less than steady.
“Oh yes,” he said, his lips pulling into that half-grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I am very well acquainted with that torment.”
“It is as though I have been living two lives,” she whispered.
“One with you, in the open. Fighting with you, then conversing, then growing surprisingly more fond,” she said with a smile that he echoed.
“And then one in private. One just for me. And my marquess. Where I discovered hope and kindness and a camaraderie I thought never to find, only to uncover it in a stranger’s letters.
I suppose I am now finding it difficult to marry the two. ”
Hugo pressed his forehead to hers, his voice deep and husky. “We were strangers, and yet not. I have longed for you in both worlds, hardly daring to hope they might become one.”
She let out a shaky breath, her heart racing. “And now that we know…what now? I do not know what I am to you.”
He smiled, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. “You are everything, Adaline. You always have been. Enemy, friend, confidante…beloved.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, charged and electric. Hugo’s hand traced a gentle path along her cheek, and she opened her eyes to find his gaze aflame with hunger and longing. Much the same as he likely saw in hers.
“And what am I to you now?” he asked.
She smiled gently. “Enemy. Friend. Confidante.” Her eyes searched his, her heart pounding as she uttered the last word. “Beloved.”
The smile he gave her took her breath away.
Slowly, he bent his head, giving her time to back away if she chose.
Instead, she rose up on her toes, meeting his lips.
It was tentative at first. A gentle brush of his lips against hers.
Then with a groan, he deepened the kiss, unleashing all the passion and uncertainty that was flooding through them both.
Adaline melted into the kiss. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. The months of secret longing and exhilarating encounters, the hours spent cherishing his letters and anticipating their face-to-face confrontations, all coalesced in this single, breathless moment.
It overwhelmed her. Her knees buckled, but Hugo held her fast, his arms wrapping tighter about her and pulling her close.
For long moments, the world beyond the library ceased to exist.
At last, she pulled away to drag in a shuddering breath. Hugo laughed softly, his fingers lingering on her cheek as he rested his forehead against hers, their ragged breath mingling.
“I will miss Mayhem’s letters,” she finally said.
Hugo barked out a laugh and pressed another lingering kiss to her lips. “Oh, I shall still write. I would miss Millie too much as well.”
She smiled, her happiness nearly overwhelming her. “Promise?”
He nodded and kissed her again. “Yes, I promise. As long as you promise me,” he whispered, “that you will never run from me again. Whatever may happen in the future, we will deal with it together.”
She nodded. “I promise.”
“Good. Now that that’s settled…”
He dragged her back to him, and she laughed as his lips captured hers once more.