Chapter Twenty-Two #3
David followed the girl into the parlor, where Adelaide took one look at him and laughed. And instead of being discouraged or offended, he felt his heart warm all over again.
“Perhaps show Mr. Grey to the spare bedchamber, and find him a towel,” she said to the maid, and to David, “Some of my husband’s clothes are still there. I brought them to cut down for Clarence as he grows. Help yourself to whatever is comfortable.”
He was not blind to the trust implicit in that kindness.
It made his heart beat with hope. Even when his borrowed clothes were too short in the arms and legs and he looked more like a schoolboy who had outgrown his Sunday best. This time his smile was a little rueful, but he would be glad to let her laugh at that too.
She did, while the servants brought hot chocolate and scones and served them beside the fire.
“So what brought you out in such a deluge?” she asked as they were finally left alone—with the door slightly ajar.
“It wasn’t raining when I left the inn. I’m still not used to the sudden changes in weather here.
” He bit into a light, delicious buttered scone and ate it with some relish.
“Mainly, I came to tell you that Solomon and Constance have left for London. They barely paused at the inn to let me know, but they wanted me to pass on their farewells.”
Adelaide paused in the act of picking up her chocolate cup. “Truly? Then they have left Percy’s murder to the police?”
“Oh, no, they solved it before they went. It was the vicar.”
“The vicar?” she said incredulously. “Mr. Thomas? Are you sure?”
David shrugged. “They are. And so is Inspector Harris. They’ve arrested him.”
Adelaide sagged back in her chair. “Good grief. Why? Why would the vicar do such a thing?”
“I think Percy just pushed him too far. He discovered his boundary too late.”
Adelaide nodded thoughtfully and sipped her chocolate. Then her eyes lifted to his face. “And you? I suppose you will follow them tomorrow?”
“I thought I might stay on for a few more days. I wanted to ask you and Clarence to walk with me tomorrow, perhaps have luncheon at the Duke’s Arms.”
“You’ll have all the old tabbies gossiping before you step over the door.”
“It doesn’t worry me, though it may not be what you want.” His heart jumped with fear because of the words he wanted to say, mostly in case they came out wrong. “I would never encroach or knowingly cause you difficulties, but I would like us to be friends.”
Adelaide waited, then nodded cautiously.
His breath caught and he almost threw his plate down on the table between them. “No, dash it, I want us to be more than friends. I want to court you. I want to look after you and Clarence, even though I am a wreck of a man with a past that can never be made clean—”
She moved abruptly and he stopped talking, knowing with despair that he had blown up his chances.
But she hadn’t bolted for the door. She threw herself down at his feet, taking both his hands and staring up at him seriously, almost sternly. “You are clean. You are innocent and clean. You are a good and kind man, David Grey, and Clarence and I will be proud to call you our friend.”
It took a moment for the meaning of her words to seep through his agitation and turn to wonder. “You feel it, too, this…rightness.” Slowly, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. When she didn’t object, he kissed the other too, more lingeringly.
“I have been trying to find my feet here,” she said. “And failing. I was pure as the driven snow, while rumors and gossip about me flew around the county. To the devil with that. I will make my own way, choose my own friends. And this, whatever this is between you and I, is worth exploring.”
She reached up and kissed him on the mouth. It was so sweet, he could not move, though the instant her lips left him, he took them back. Passion flared like new life within him, full of hope and wonder and beauty.
Oh yes, this was worth exploring, and fighting for. Risking all for. Even when Clarence burst into the room and they fell apart, they were laughing and joyful with this all-encompassing new love.
*
The rainstorms made the road so perilous that Constance and Solomon put up for the night at an old-fashioned posting inn and traveled the rest of the way to London in bright sunshine.
“We’ll miss the ceremony,” Constance said discontentedly. The movement of the carriage still disagreed with her, but she noticed it less, since she concentrated more on ensuring that Solomon did not suffer.
“But we will be in time for the wedding breakfast,” he pointed out.
It crossed Constance’s mind that she was not dressed for a wedding, which made her laugh because her mother would not care for that. No one would or could upstage Juliet on such a day as this.
As they spilled out of the carriage at the hotel, Solomon pulled off his bandage and threw a coin to the boy selling newspapers there.
The headlines were all about the Ottoman Turks declaring war on Russia, and the likelihood of France and Britain being drawn in on the Ottoman side, but war was a worry for another day.
Solomon found the wedding announcements while Constance peered over his arm.
“There!” she pounced. “Miss Juliet Silver, daughter of Graham Silver of Thornleigh, to Mr. Sebastian Kellar, second son of Sir John and Lady Kellar. Who the devil is Graham Silver of Thornleigh?” Juliet must have made it up.
“I have no idea,” Solomon said, handing the newspaper back to the boy. “Shall we?”
It was Kellar who happened to be striding toward the door while they argued their right to entry with a hotel footman, who saw them first. He hurried over with an exclamation, thrusting a hand out to each of them.
“You came!” he said delightedly, while the sheepish footman effaced himself.
“We were held up by the weather,” Solomon said, shaking his hand. “Heartiest congratulations.”