Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

" F or heaven's sake, Adeline, sit up straight. And do try to arrange your skirts to hide that ghastly stain."

Lord Brenton's exasperated voice cut through the tense silence of the carriage. Adeline, who had been staring out the window at the passing London streets, turned to face her father. His face was etched with disapproval, his eyes fixed on the red punch stain that marred her pale blue gown.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said, attempting to smooth her skirts. "I assure you, it was an accident."

Lord Brenton snorted. "An accident? My dear girl, nothing in those ballrooms is ever truly an accident. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have one's daughter looking like she's been in a tavern brawl?"

Adeline felt a flare of indignation. "I hardly think a punch stain qualifies as?—"

"It's not just the stain," her father interrupted, his voice rising. "It's the spectacle. Your rushing out of the ballroom, disappearing for who knows how long. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I needed a moment to compose myself after being publicly humiliated," Adeline retorted, her temper rising to match her father's. "Or would you have preferred I burst into tears in front of the entire ton?"

Lord Brenton's face flushed an alarming shade of red. "What I would prefer, Adeline, is for you to comport yourself with the dignity befitting your station. Is that truly so much to ask?"

Adeline bit back a bitter laugh. Dignity? When had the ton ever afforded her any dignity? But she knew better than to voice such thoughts to her father. Instead, she took a deep breath, forcing her voice to remain calm.

"I apologize if my actions caused you embarrassment, Father. It was not my intention."

For a moment, it seemed as though Lord Brenton might continue his tirade. But then he sighed, the anger seeming to drain out of him, replaced by a weariness that made him look older than his years.

"It's not just about me, Adeline," he said, his voice softer now. "Have you considered how your behavior might affect your sister's prospects? Isabella's debut is just around the corner. We can't afford any scandals or whispers that might hurt her chances."

And there it was. The real reason for his anger, laid bare. Adeline felt a familiar ache in her chest, a mix of resentment and guilt that had become her constant companion these past years.

"Of course, Father," she replied, her voice flat. "Heaven forbid anything should mar Isabella's perfect debut."

Lord Brenton's eyes narrowed at her tone. "Your sarcasm is neither appreciated nor becoming, Adeline. I would have thought you'd be more concerned for your sister's welfare."

Adeline turned back to the window, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "I am concerned for Isabella. More than you know."

The rest of the journey passed in stony silence. Adeline's mind, however, was far from quiet. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts kept drifting back to the garden, to the mysterious stranger who had both vexed and intrigued her.

His gray eyes, sparkling with amusement and something deeper she couldn't quite name. The way he'd come to her aid without hesitation, despite her less-than-gracious behavior. The warmth of his hand on her arm as he'd guided her to safety…

Adeline shook her head, banishing the traitorous thoughts. It was foolish to dwell on such things. She would likely never see the man again, and even if she did, what did it matter? In a matter of weeks, she would be off to Scotland, far from the glittering ballrooms of London and the judgmental eyes of the ton .

And yet, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder. What if…

The carriage came to a stop outside their townhouse, jolting her out of her reverie. Without waiting for the footman, Lord Brenton flung open the door and stepped out, his movements sharp with lingering irritation.

"I trust you can make it to your room without causing any further scenes," he said, his voice clipped. "Goodnight, Adeline."

Before Adeline could respond, he had turned on his heel and strode into the house, leaving her alone in the carriage. She took a moment to compose herself, drawing in a deep breath and willing away the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes.

Finally, she stepped out, nodding her thanks to the patiently waiting footman. As she entered the house, the quiet enveloped her like a comforting blanket. Here, at least, she could escape the critical gazes and whispered comments that had dogged her all evening.

Adeline had just reached the door of her bedchamber when a soft voice called out to her.

"Adeline? Is that you?"

She turned to see Isabella peering out from her room, her golden hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Isabella," Adeline sighed, managing a small smile for her sister. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"

Isabella slipped out of her room, padding down the hallway in her nightgown and her stockings. Her eyes widened as they fell on Adeline's gown. "I couldn't sleep, but—goodness, Adeline! What happened to your dress?"

Adeline glanced down, wincing at the sight of the large punch stain. She'd almost forgotten about it in the tumult of the evening.

"Oh, it was just a small accident," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Nothing to worry about."

Isabella frowned, clearly not convinced. "An accident? It looks more like someone threw a full glass at you." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Was it terribly awful? Did you at least get to dance with any handsome gentlemen before… whatever this was happened?"

For a moment, Adeline was tempted to tell her sister everything—the humiliation, the argument with their father, and yes, her encounter with the intriguing stranger in the garden. But looking at Isabella's eager face, so full of hope and excitement for her upcoming debut, Adeline couldn't bring herself to tarnish that innocence.

"It was an eventful evening," she said instead, opening her door and ushering Isabella inside. "But surely not as exciting as whatever romantic novel you've no doubt been reading, instead of sleeping."

Isabella giggled, flopping down onto Adeline's bed with ease. "Oh, but real life is so much more thrilling than novels! Come on, Adeline, you must tell me everything. I'm positively dying of curiosity!"

As Adeline carefully removed her jewelry, she couldn't help but smile at her sister's enthusiasm.

"Very well," she said, turning to face Isabella. "But I warn you, the exciting life of a spinster may be too much for your delicate sensibilities to bear."

She settled onto the bed beside her sister, arranging her stained skirts as best as she could.

"Well, let's see. Lady Windhurst's ballroom was absolutely resplendent. Crystal chandeliers, flowers everywhere, and the music was divine."

Isabella's eyes shone with excitement. "And the gowns? Oh, do tell me about the gowns!"

"They were exquisite," Adeline said, warming to her task. "Lady Townsend wore a stunning emerald-green silk gown that perfectly matched her eyes. And the Countess of Marlowe had on a gown of deep purple velvet with the most intricate gold embroidery on the bodice."

As Adeline described the various fashions she'd witnessed, her mind couldn't help but wander to the stranger in the garden. What had he thought of her simple blue gown, now stained and rumpled from her misadventures? She wondered what he might look like in the full splendor of evening wear, rather than the shadowy figure she'd encountered in the moonlight.

"Adeline? Are you listening to me?" Isabella's voice broke through her thoughts.

Adeline blinked, focusing on her sister's puzzled face. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked if you danced with anyone interesting," Isabella repeated, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "But it seems your mind is elsewhere. Could it be that my spinster sister has finally caught someone's eye?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Adeline scoffed, though she could feel a blush creeping up her neck. "I'm simply tired. It's been a long evening."

Isabella, however, was not so easily deterred. "Oh, come now, Adeline. I know that look. Who is he? Is he handsome? Rich? Do tell!"

For a moment, Adeline was tempted to confide in her sister. To share the exhilarating, confusing encounter that had set her heart racing. But the memory of her father's words in the carriage held her back. She couldn't risk Isabella's future for the sake of a fleeting fancy.

"There's no ‘he,' Isabella," she declared firmly. "Just the usual crowd of lords and ladies, none of whom spared me more than a polite nod."

The light in Isabella's eyes dimmed slightly, and Adeline felt a pang of guilt for disappointing her.

"But enough about my uneventful evening," she continued quickly. "Tell me, what have you been up to while we were out? Besides reading novels you probably shouldn't, that is."

As Isabella launched into a detailed account of her day, complete with dramatic reenactments of particularly juicy scenes from her latest literary acquisition, Adeline found her thoughts drifting once again.

The stranger's laugh echoed in her head, rich and warm. The way his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and leather that had enveloped her when he stood close. It was foolish to dwell on such things, she knew. And yet…

"Adeline!" Isabella's exasperated voice cut through her thoughts once more. "You're doing it again. Are you sure you're quite well?"

Adeline shook her head, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, truly. Just tired, as I said. Perhaps we should continue this in the morning? I fear I'm not very good company at the moment."

Isabella pouted for a moment but then yawned, betraying her own fatigue. "Oh, very well. But don't think you're excused. I want to hear every detail over breakfast."

After exchanging goodnights and seeing Isabella safely back to her room, Adeline finally allowed herself to relax. She changed into her nightgown, her movements slow and methodical as she tried to clear her head.

But as she lay in bed, staring up at the canopy, sleep proved elusive. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. Heard his voice.

Who was he? Would she ever see him again? And why, after years of being overlooked and dismissed by gentlemen due to her scar, did this stranger affect her so?

Adeline turned onto her side, punching her pillow in frustration. This was madness. She was leaving for Scotland soon. There was no point in entertaining such fanciful notions.

And yet…

She couldn't help but replay their encounter, analyzing every word, every gesture. The way he'd looked at her, not with pity or revulsion at her scars, but with genuine interest. The spark of challenge in his eyes as they traded barbs.

For the first time in years, Adeline had felt truly seen . Not as the scarred spinster, the burden to be shipped off to the countryside. But as a woman of wit and spirit, worthy of attention.

As the hours ticked by and sleep continued to elude her, Adeline found herself indulging in impossible daydreams. What if she were to see him again? What if, by some miracle, he saw beyond her scars and station? The questions multiplied in her mind, each one more tantalizing than the last.

She groaned, burying her face in her pillow. This was precisely the sort of foolishness she'd always prided herself on avoiding. She was practical, level-headed. Not some moonstruck girl swooning over a chance encounter.

With a sigh, she rose and dressed quietly. As she slipped out into the cool morning air, Adeline took a deep breath, trying to center herself.

The garden was peaceful at this hour, free from judgmental gazes. Here, she could just be herself. And if her mind occasionally wandered to moonlit encounters and laughing gray eyes… Well, there was no one here to know but her.

For now, at least, she could allow herself this small pleasure.