Chapter 21
The days had begun to gather a rhythm Eric no longer questioned.
What had first felt like an intrusion upon the ordered solitude of Wolverton had quietly become its new order.
Morning often found Adelaide somewhere unexpected: in the schoolroom with Elise bent over copybooks, in the kitchens arguing good-naturedly with Cook over preserves, or crossing the lower fields with her skirts gathered in one hand while she inspected fencing alongside the steward.
Evenings ended less often in silence now.
The great house no longer echoed in quite the same lonely fashion, and although Eric still retreated when old ghosts demanded their due, he found himself returning more quickly than before.
It was an unsettling realization to discover that peace had acquired another person’s laughter.
The stable doors stood open to the cooling evening, and the scent of leather, fresh straw, and horses greeted him before he crossed the threshold.
He had almost reached for Apollo’s bridle when another voice drifted from farther down the aisle.
“I wondered whether you might appear.”
Eric looked around one of the stalls.
Adelaide stood beside Bramble, fastening the mare’s bridle while speaking quietly enough that the horse leaned into her shoulder as though listening.
He smiled before he could stop himself. “I might say the same.”
She glanced over toward him. “I’ve stolen your evening ride.”
“I wasn’t aware rides could be reserved. Is this a new rule you’ve instituted upon your arrival?”
“No… W ell, not yet anyway, but more of these inconvenient interruptions may sway my hand,” she joked.
“Well, what happens to the rule if we’ve both been inconvenienced?”
“As with any impasse… the first arriving party earns the right to the ride.”
He walked toward Apollo’s stall, resting one arm across the half door. “I should challenge you to determine whose claim arrived first.”
“And how would we prove it?”
“We’d require witnesses.”
Adelaide shrugged with almost too much nonchalance as she replied quickly. “The horses seem to be impartial.”
“I disagree! Since your arrival, no matter how much time I spend with them, they’ve always favored you.”
“Well… I bribed them.”
“Ah! I suspected corruption,” he looked at her pointedly, one eyebrow lifted, waiting.
She finished tightening the last buckle before brushing one affectionate hand along Bramble’s neck. “I bring them apples.”
“I’ve no defense against apples.” He chuckled quietly as he saddled Apollo.
For a time, neither hurried the work.
There was something unexpectedly pleasant about sharing the familiar tasks. Tack settled into place with practiced movements. Buckles clicked. Leather creaked softly beneath careful hands.
Outside, dusk had begun slipping gently across the paddocks, softening the edges of the hills beyond Wolverton until sky and earth seemed almost to blur together.
By the time they led the horses into the yard, the first evening star had appeared.
Adelaide looked west, then toward the tree line. “We’re rather late.”
“We are.”
“The lower trails will be dark within half an hour.” She looked back at him. “So we’ve both miscalculated rather royally.”
“It appears so.”
A groom approached, already reaching for Apollo’s reins. Eric shook his head. “Not yet.”
The young man stepped back immediately. Instead of mounting, Eric loosened Apollo’s lead. “We could simply walk them.”
Adelaide smiled. “I was hoping you’d suggest that.”
Together they left the stable yard, leading the horses side by side along the broad paddock path that curved toward the western meadows.
The evening carried a comfortable coolness now.
Crickets had begun their steady chorus from the hedgerows while somewhere across the fields, an owl called once before settling into silence again.
Neither seemed inclined to hurry.
Apollo wandered close enough that Bramble occasionally nudged his shoulder. “They’ve become friends,” Adelaide observed.
“They’ve become spoiled, and I blame their mistress.”
She gasped in exaggerated offense. “I blame their negligent master.”
“My argument is considerably stronger.”
“You have no evidence.”
She laughed again, and the sound lingered between them even after it faded. For a little while they simply walked. It struck Eric that silence had changed. Once it had served as a wall between them, but now it felt less like distance and more like company.
He looked sideways over at her and Bramble. The last of the sunlight had caught in Adelaide’s hair, drawing warm strands of copper and gold from it that the afternoon never seemed to reveal.
The breeze had loosened several curls near her temple, and she had long since abandoned any attempt to smooth them back into place.
“What?” She had caught him looking.
He did not immediately answer. “I was thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It usually is.”
She waited, and he found himself unexpectedly unwilling to retreat behind humor. “You look…” The words refused to cooperate.
She watched him patiently.
“…very beautiful this evening.”
For the first time since he’d known her, Adelaide seemed entirely without a reply.
A faint flush rose into her cheeks. “I…” She laughed once under her breath. “You’ve rendered me speechless. Quite rude, you know?”
“I hadn’t intended to.”
“No?”
“I merely thought you ought to know… I noticed.”
She lowered her eyes briefly. “Thank you.”
The simplicity of it somehow made the moment feel even more dangerous. When she looked back at him, recognition had softened in her expression. As though she understood exactly how difficult those few words had been.
The world had narrowed strangely. The reins hung loosely between their fingers. Apollo wandered ahead a few paces before stopping to crop at the grass. Bramble followed lazily.
Nothing else seemed to exist besides that exact moment, and Eric turned toward her almost without thinking, but she had already turned toward him. They stood close enough now that he could see the reflection of the fading sky in her eyes. Close enough to hear her breathing.
The distance between them dwindled almost imperceptibly. His heart, ordinarily so disciplined, had abandoned all pretense of behaving sensibly. She searched his face, waiting.
Eric leaned forward just enough. Not yet touching nor yet daring. “Eric…” she sighed softly and let her eyes flutter closed.
“Adelaide!” she heard a moment later, but the sound was strange and distant, and far more urgent than the moment had required.
Her eyes shot open.
Both of them started and took a step backward as Theodore’s voice rang clearly across the stable yard twice more. The moment shattered so completely it almost seemed impossible it had existed at all.
“There you are!” Theodore called again, waving one arm as he hurried toward them from the house. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”
A hot, sharp, primitive possessive feeling tightened across Eric’s chest. Such a foreign feeling that it startled him with its force.
Adelaide blinked, still visibly collecting herself. “I think he’s looking for me.”
“So it would appear…” Eric said through gritted teeth.
Theodore drew nearer. “There you are,” he repeated, slightly out of breath. “Your father has been asking after you.”
At once both of their irritation faltered, and Adelaid straightened. “What do you mean?”
“He couldn’t remember where you’d gone.”
Concern immediately replaced everything else in her expression. “I should go.”
Eric looked toward the stables, where two waiting grooms had discreetly remained several yards away. He gathered Apollo’s reins and held them out. “I’ll have them seen to.”
She hesitated only briefly enough to say, “I’m sorry.”
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” The words came evenly enough, but only he knew how much effort that required. “If your father is asking for you,” he continued, forcing a small smile, “you shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
She searched his face as though hoping to find some trace of what had almost happened, then nodded. “I’ll see you later.”
“I should hope so.”
She handed Bramble’s reins to another groom before disappearing beside Theodore toward the house. Eric remained where he was until both had vanished beyond the courtyard.
Only then did he realize his hand had tightened so firmly around Apollo’s reins that the leather had left deep marks across his palm.
The walk back to the house ought to have cooled his thoughts. Instead, every measured step across the courtyard seemed only to sharpen them.
Eric had spent years believing himself incapable of jealousy. It had always struck him as a childish indulgence, something suited to possessive husbands and insecure lovers. Neither description had ever applied to him.
It appeared he had simply never cared enough before.
He replayed the evening with irritating clarity.
Adelaide’s laughter beneath the lanterns.
The easy familiarity. The way she had spoken his name without hesitation.
The near kiss in the paddock. Then Theodore’s voice cutting through the dusk as though summoned for the sole purpose of reminding Eric that there were still parts of her life to which he did not belong.
He knew he was being unreasonable. Theodore had done nothing wrong—quite the opposite.
The man had shown Eric nothing but courtesy since arriving at Wolverton, and Adelaide had told him plainly, more than once, that she regarded Theodore as a brother, and he believed her.
That was the worst part, though. His jealousy had nothing to do with mistrust and had everything to do with wanting. Wanting more of her laughter and more of her time. More of those quiet moments when she looked at him as though the rest of the room had ceased to matter.
He had nearly kissed her because he wanted to.
The realization settled over him with renewed force. There was no hiding behind friendship any longer… H e had fallen for his wife.