Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

" N ow, my dear," Lady Gillingham said, patting Adeline's hand reassuringly, "there's no need to look so glum. It's a beautiful day for a garden party."

Adeline forced a smile, though her stomach churned with apprehension. "Of course, Grandmama. I'm sure it will be lovely."

She fidgeted with the lace trim of her gloves as the carriage rolled to a stop before Lady Alderton's impressive country estate. The sprawling gardens were awash with color, a sea of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen milling about under the warm spring sun.

In truth, Adeline had tried every excuse she could think of to avoid this outing. But her grandmother had been insistent, declaring that fresh air and socializing would do her good. Now, faced with the prospect of another afternoon of whispers and sidelong glances, Adeline wished she'd tried harder to feign illness.

As they stepped down from the carriage, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. She'd survived countless such gatherings before; surely she could endure one more.

"Miriam! My dear friend, how wonderful to see you!"

Adeline turned to see Lady Alderton approaching, her face wreathed in smiles. Despite her nervousness, she couldn't help but return the older woman's warm greeting.

"Lady Alderton," she said, dipping into a small curtsy. "Thank you for having us. Your gardens are absolutely beautiful."

"Oh, none of that ‘Lady Alderton' business," the Dowager Marchioness said, waving a hand dismissively. "You must call me Rachel, my dear. After all?—"

But whatever Lady Alderton had been about to say was cut off as a tall figure approached from behind her.

Adeline's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the broad shoulders, the commanding presence, the piercing gray eyes that had haunted her dreams for days.

"Ah, Edmund!" Lady Alderton exclaimed. "There you are. Come, let me introduce you properly. This is Lady Adeline Follet, Lord Brenton's eldest daughter and my dear friend Miriam's granddaughter."

Adeline felt the blood drain from her face as he came to stand beside his grandmother. The Duke of Holbrook was Lady Alderton's grandson? This was the mysterious stranger from the garden? The man she'd nearly been caught with?

Surely he would say something, reveal their clandestine encounter to her grandmother…

"Your Grace," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

To her surprise, the Duke merely inclined his head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Lady Adeline," he returned, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "The pleasure is mine."

Adeline waited, tense, for him to say more. To make some reference to their moonlit encounter, some sly comment that would expose her reckless behavior. But he remained silent, his expression inscrutable.

"Well!" Lady Alderton gushed, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling between her grandson and Adeline. "Now that introductions are out of the way, perhaps you two might take a turn about the garden? Edmund, do show Lady Adeline the new rose varieties we've cultivated. I'm sure she'd find them fascinating. Lady Gillingham and I shall chaperone you, of course."

Adeline opened her mouth to protest, but her grandmother spoke first. "What a marvelous idea! Adeline is quite an enthusiast when it comes to horticulture. Aren't you, my dear?"

Caught between her grandmother's expectant gaze and the Duke's unreadable one, Adeline found herself nodding. "I… yes, of course. That would be lovely."

As the two grandmothers exchanged knowing looks, Adeline felt a flicker of annoyance. Their matchmaking attempts were painfully obvious, and judging by the slight tightening of the Duke's jaw, he was no more pleased by the situation than she was.

Nonetheless, Edmund offered her his arm, ever the gentleman. "Shall we, Lady Adeline?"

Adeline placed her hand lightly on his arm, acutely aware of the hard muscle beneath the fine fabric of his coat. As they moved away from their grandmothers, she couldn't help but notice the interested glances and whispers that followed them.

For several moments, they walked in silence, the tension between them almost palpable. Adeline fumbled for something to say, some way to address the elephant in the room without causing herself further embarrassment.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, she spoke. "Your grandmother's gardens are truly spectacular, Your Grace. You must be very proud."

Edmund's response was curt. "My grandmother takes great pride in her horticultural endeavors. I'm afraid I have little to do with it."

Adeline bit her lip, stung by his cool tone. "I see. Well, perhaps you might point out these new rose varieties she mentioned? I wouldn't want to disappoint our grandmothers by returning without having seen them."

The Duke's eyebrow rose slightly. "Indeed. We wouldn't want that, would we? Heaven forbid we fail to perform our roles in their little matchmaking scheme to their satisfaction."

The bitterness in his voice took Adeline aback. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I hardly think that's fair. Our grandmothers mean well, even if their methods are… somewhat not so subtle."

Edmund snorted, a most ungentlemanly sound. "Mean well? Tell me, my lady, do you enjoy being paraded about like prized cattle at a country fair?"

Adeline felt her temper flare. "I assure you, Your Grace, I have no more desire to be ‘paraded about' than you do. But unlike some, I am capable of basic courtesy, even in trying circumstances."

"Ah yes, your impeccable manners," Edmund drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, is it customary in polite society to attempt scaling garden walls in the middle of soirées?"

Adeline gasped, heat flooding her cheeks. So he did remember! And he had the gall to throw it in her face now, after maintaining his silence in front of their grandmothers?

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said stiffly. "Perhaps the sun has addled your wits, Your Grace."

Edmund's eyes flashed dangerously. "Has it? How strange, then, that I have such a vivid recollection of a certain young lady attempting to pick a lock with her hairpin. Unless, of course, such behavior is commonplace among the ton these days?"

Adeline felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart racing with indignation and… something else she dared not name. The Duke's words had struck a nerve, bringing back vivid memories of that night in Lady Windhurst's garden.

The thrill of danger, the exhilaration of being seen— truly seen—for the first time in years. For a moment, she allowed herself to remember the intensity in his gray eyes as he'd looked at her.

But that was then, and this was now. The man before her bore little resemblance to the intriguing stranger she'd met that night. This Duke was cold, distant, his words sharp enough to cut. And yet… there was something in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, that spoke of a deeper turmoil. Could it be that he was as affected by their encounter as she was?

Adeline shook her head slightly, banishing the foolish thought. It didn't matter what the Duke felt or didn't feel. She was Lady Adeline Follett, scarred and soon to be exiled. Any connection between them was impossible, a fleeting fantasy born of moonlight and desperation. She had to remember her place, her duty to her family.

No matter how her traitorous heart might flutter at his nearness.

Adeline opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but before she could speak, they were interrupted by a shrill voice.

"Your Grace! How wonderful to see you!"

Adeline turned to see a group of young ladies approaching, led by none other than Miss Amelia Carstairs and close by her side was Lady Margaret —the same woman who had so cruelly snubbed her at Lady Windhurst's soirée.

"We've been simply dying to speak with you," Miss Carstairs simpered, batting her eyelashes at Edmund. "You must tell us all about your estate in the north. I hear it's absolutely breathtaking."

Adeline felt Edmund stiffen beside her, his jaw clenching visibly. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for him, faced with such blatant fawning. But then she remembered his earlier rudeness and decided he deserved every moment of discomfort.

"Ladies," he said, his tone clipped. "I'm afraid you've caught me at a rather inopportune moment. Lady Adeline and I were discussing?—"

"Oh, don't let us interrupt you," Miss Carstairs interrupted, her eyes flicking dismissively over Adeline. "I'm sure Lady Adeline won't mind if we borrow you for a moment. After all, it's not as though you were engaged in any important conversation."

The barb, thinly veiled as it was, struck home. Adeline felt a familiar ache in her chest, the pain of rejection and exclusion that she'd thought herself long since inured to.

But to her surprise, Edmund didn't immediately acquiesce to Miss Carstairs' request. Instead, his brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Adeline, something unreadable flickering in his gray eyes.

"Actually, Miss Carstairs," he said, his voice calm but firm, "Lady Adeline and I were discussing the upcoming charity event for the orphanage. Her ideas for fundraising have been most creative."

Adeline blinked in surprise, warmth blooming in her chest at his unexpected defense even if it was a lie.

Edmund turned to her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation later, Lady Adeline? I'm particularly interested in your thoughts on involving more of the local community."

"Of course, Your Grace," Adeline replied, fighting to keep the shock from her voice. "I look forward to it."

Edmund nodded, then addressed the group of ladies. "Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?"

And just like that, Adeline found herself alone, watching as the Duke was swept away by a tide of pastel-clad admirers. She stood there for a moment, feeling foolish and out of place, before squaring her shoulders and turning away.

She would not let them see how much their casual cruelty affected her. She was Adeline Follett, and she had endured far worse than the snubs of empty-headed Society misses.

As she made her way back to where she'd left her grandmother, she couldn't help but reflect on the strange encounter with the Duke. He'd been so different from the man she'd met in Lady Windhurst's garden—cold and distant, where before he'd been intriguing and almost playful.

Had she imagined the connection between them that night? Had it all been a product of moonlight magic, destined to crumble in the harsh light of day?

"Adeline, my dear! There you are."

Her grandmother's voice pulled her from her melancholy thoughts. Lady Gillingham was engaged in animated conversation with a group of older ladies, all of whom turned to regard Adeline with varying degrees of curiosity and poorly concealed pity.

"Come, you must join us," Lady Gillingham said, patting the seat beside her. "Lady Sutton was just telling us the most fascinating story about her late husband's adventures in India."

Adeline forced a smile, taking her seat with as much grace as she could muster. As Lady Sutton launched into what promised to be a long and likely embellished tale, Adeline allowed her mind to wander.

She thought of Edmund—no, the Duke, she corrected herself firmly. She had no right to think of him by his Christian name. She thought of the way he'd looked at her in the garden that night, as though she were the most fascinating creature he'd ever encountered.

And then she thought of the cool dismissal in his eyes today, the way he'd so easily abandoned her to the mercy of Miss Carstairs and her ilk.

It was for the best, really. In a few short weeks, she would be gone, exiled to the wilds of Scotland. What did it matter if the Duke of Holbrook found her intriguing or not? What did any of it matter?

And yet, as the afternoon wore on and Adeline found her gaze continually drawn to the tall figure moving about the gardens, she couldn't quite extinguish the tiny flame of hope that flickered in her chest.

Hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to the Duke than met the eye.