Chapter 12
“You have become remarkably difficult to find.”
Eric paused his progression and looked up from the estate ledger in his hands.
Adelaide stood at the opposite end of the corridor. Morning light spilled through the tall windows behind him as he took a few steps toward her.
She had exchanged the elaborate gowns required in London for a simpler day dress the color of deep blue as the plan for the day involved the sort of garment better suited to walking the grounds than receiving callers.
She absentmindedly shifted the basket that hung over one arm as her eyes tracked his approach.
“I was not aware anyone was searching,” he said, closing the ledger and tucking it under an arm lazily.
“Well, I have been.”
Her answer had been so straightforward that she watched as he tried and failed to find a response.
She smirked and crossed the remaining distance between them, stopping comfortably within conversation rather than ceremony. “For three days,” she continued, “you have either vanished into your study, escaped with Mr. Turner, or been mysteriously occupied whenever I have asked after you.”
“I have been occupied.”
“So Mrs. Graves assures me.”
Eric closed the ledger. “Abigail has not lied.”
“No.” Adelaide tilted her head slightly. “She has merely become extraordinarily talented at telling me precisely enough to prevent me from asking another question.”
A faint smile threatened despite himself.
“You find it amusing?” Adelaide observed.
“Do I?”
“Unless you have another reason for the crack in your otherwise marble composure.”
“Just that my wife has an extraordinarily talented way of expressing her dissatisfaction in something I have done without actually saying so.”
She leveled an icy glare toward him as silence settled between them. She noticed though that the silence no longer possessed the awkward quality it had carried during their first days together. Adelaide simply waited, comfortably so, for him to fill it—as he would inevitably do.
As if right on cue, Eric cleared his throat. “What is it that you wished to see me about in my non-existent absence?”
She lifted the basket slightly. “I thought we might leave Wolverton for a few hours.”
His brow furrowed before he could think twice about it.
“There is a market in Wilbury today,” she explained. “One of the maids from the kitchen tells me the baker makes excellent seed cakes there, Elise has already decided she requires another sketchbook, and I have been informed the village pond contains ducks deserving of proper admiration.”
“You have received considerable intelligence.”
She smiled. “I thought…” Her voice softened almost imperceptibly. “I thought it might be pleasant for all of us.”
This invitation had been an olive branch. Since the stable yard, Adelaide had noticed that Eric had retreated with purpose. Perhaps in self-reflection or another reason. But three days was entirely too much time to be alone with one’s thoughts, and she had enough of the silence.
“You are wondering how to refuse politely,” she said sharply, observing his indecision across his features.
“No, I was actually calculating the likelihood of whether Mr. Turner could survive one afternoon without me or not.”
“I am sure he has survived considerably worse without issue.”
“The man is resilient,” he relented with a tempered smirk.
“Then shall I tell Elise we’re going, then?”
Eric looked at her almost unimpressed. “You have already told her.”
“I may have implied there was reason for optimism.”
He sighed. “I thought as much.”
“So… yes?” The hopeful note surprised him more than it should have.
“Yes.”
Her spirits brightened with his reply, and she turned before he could reconsider, already nearing the door to his study. “Oh,” she added over her shoulder, “you should wear something… more… comfortable.”
Then she was gone, rushing up the steps with a newfound excitement in each step she took.
Not a few minutes later, after Elise and Adelaide had both made their way down into the entrance hall, Violet was fastening the final button at Adelaide’s wrist before stepping back to inspect her work.
“The weather should remain pleasant for our journey. Oh, how I wish you were coming with us.”
Violet smirked. “Calm weather precedes rain in England. I will be awaiting your return with dry clothes warmed by the hearth.”
“What would I do without you!”
Elise darted through the hall carrying a bonnet almost as large as herself before disappearing again, apparently determined to locate the ribbon she had misplaced no fewer than three times that morning.
Adelaide watched her go with an affectionate shake of her head.
“You’re happy here,” Violet said unexpectedly.
Adelaide considered it. “I admit that I am happier than I expected.”
Violet lowered her eyes. “I am glad,” she said and smiled, though it faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
Adelaide studied her friend. Over the past several days she had begun noticing a curious pattern of quiet movements, short responses, and lowered gazes. “You do not like it here,” she surmised.
Violet looked up. “I beg your pardon?”
“Is it the duke? Mrs. Graves? The other servants? Do you miss London?”
Violet busied herself smoothing an entirely wrinkle-free sleeve. “No, I simply try not to intrude. It is still, after all, your honeymoon period.”
“You have never worried about intruding before.”
The silence felt heavy, and when Violet finally spoke, her voice carried unusual hesitation. “May I ask of you something?”
“Always.”
“Just—and I say this out of my care for you, of course, and in no way to be untoward or disrespectful—I think you should not expect too much of him.”
Adelaide frowned. “In what sense?”
Violet searched for words that seemed unwilling to come. “He seems like a good man. And I have no doubt that he will always try to do what he believes is right.”
“But?”
“But sometimes…” Violet looked toward the window instead of Adelaide. “Sometimes doing what is right becomes so much a part of someone that they forget how to do anything else.”
Adelaide waited. “That isn’t much of an explanation.”
Violet’s fingers folded together tightly. “I cannot say much more than that.”
“You can.”
“Then I shouldn’t.”
Adelaide crossed the room until only a step separated them. “Violet.”
Her friend finally met her eyes and found genuine worry there. “For whatever reason,” Violet said quietly, “I simply don’t want you to be hurt.”
Adelaide reached for her hand. “I appreciate that.”
“You deserve someone who sees you.”
“I think he does.”
Violet’s expression became unexpectedly sad. “I hope you’re right.”
Before Adelaide could ask another question, Elise tore triumphantly back into the hall. “I found the ribbon!” She held it above her head as though presenting a military victory.
Violet smiled immediately, the strange conversation disappearing beneath practiced warmth. Adelaide smiled too. “Please behave on this trip. Do not stray from Adelaide.”
“Yes, Mama,” Elise said as Violet planted a kiss on the top of her head and then gave Adelaide’s arm a squeeze before turning back toward the grand staircase.
“Ready?” She heard Eric’s voice announce his arrival before his person, and Adelaide felt her stomach clench uncontrollably.
He strolled into the entrance hall purposefully, his outfit more than complimented their outing and his mood altogether altered which Adelaide could only attribute to an act he put on for Elise, and not actual excitement for the outing.
But she rolled her shoulders back anyway and met his smile with one of her own. “Yes, we are,” she said and grabbed Elise’s hand. “Lead the way!”
“Yes! Lead the way!” Elise repeated and Adelaide caught the slight warmth hit Eric’s eyes before he bowed dramatically and gestured for them both to go ahead of him.
“I insist,” he said, head dipping well past his waist and both girls giggled before walking through the door.
***
By the time they reached Wilbury, the weight Wolverton had placed upon all of them seemed to have remained somewhere along the road behind.
The village was modest rather than grand, its main lane winding gently between stone cottages with flower boxes spilling color beneath leaded windows.
Market stalls filled the square with baskets of apples, bolts of dyed wool, fresh bread, cheeses, herbs, and every variety of trinket Elise declared absolutely necessary.
“Oh!” Elise darted toward a stall displaying carved wooden animals.
Adelaide laughed. “Walk, not run.”
“I am walking quickly.”
“You’re sprinting politely.”
Eric reached the child first, steadying her before she collided with a barrel of pumpkins. “I believe your definition of walking requires refinement.”
“It was excitement.”
“So I gathered.”
She grinned up at him before immediately becoming distracted by a fox carved from oak.
Adelaide watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction.
Three days ago she would have described Eric as pleasant enough, but today she would have added kind.
The stiffness that had settled over him since the stable yard had begun dissolving almost from the moment they entered the village.
She saw it in the way he answered shopkeepers without unnecessary formality, in the half-smiles that appeared before he remembered himself, and in the patience with which he listened to Elise’s relentless observations about ducks, clouds, ribbons, and whether horses preferred pears.
Perhaps Violet had been mistaken about who she thought the duke truly was, or perhaps Eric simply needed reminding that life existed beyond grief.
Adelaide hoped it was both, mostly because he had grown rather fond of the version of her husband who laughed.
“You’re smiling again,” Eric observed.
“I wasn’t aware you were watching.” She arched an eyebrow.
“That is an extraordinary talent.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She laughed.
The sound seemed to surprise him as much as it did her.