Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

" L ady Adeline! Or should I say, Your Grace? How utterly delightful to see you!" Lady Windhurst's shrill voice cut through the low hum of conversation in the opulent ballroom.

Adeline plastered on a smile, steeling herself for the onslaught she knew was coming. "Lady Windhurst, how kind of you to invite us. Your home is lovely as always."

She glanced to her side, only to realize that Edmund had already been whisked away by Lord Rutherford, leaving her to face the curious crowd alone.

One month into their marriage, and still, she found herself wishing for his steadying presence at social events, even if their relationship remained cold and distant.

"Oh, you simply must tell us everything," Lady Windhurst gushed, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed curiosity. "We've all been dying to know how married life agrees with the notorious Duke of Holbrook!"

Adeline's heart sank. She had known this dinner party would be a trial, but the reality of facing the ton's insatiable appetite for gossip without Edmund by her side was more daunting than she had anticipated. Still, she was the Duchess of Holbrook now. She had a duty to perform, a role to play.

"I assure you, Lady Windhurst, married life is quite agreeable," Adeline replied, infusing her voice with a warmth she didn't entirely feel. "His Grace is an exemplary husband."

"But surely you must have some anecdotes to share?" Lady Windhurst pressed, clearly unsatisfied with Adeline's diplomatic response. "The Duke has always been such a mystery to us all. Tell me, does he truly spend all his time poring over account books, or does he have some secret passion we're all unaware of?"

Adeline felt a blush rising to her cheeks, painfully aware of the crowd that had gathered around her, ears straining to catch every word. She opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she was going to say, when another voice chimed in.

"I heard he's quite the expert horseman," a young debutante piped up. "Is it true he once raced his stallion against a thunderstorm and won?"

"Nonsense," an older matron scoffed. "Everyone knows the Duke's true passion is fencing. They say he's undefeated in all of England!"

Adeline blinked, momentarily taken aback by the absurdity of the rumors swirling around her husband. A part of her wanted to laugh, to set the record straight about Edmund's more mundane, if equally impressive, skills in estate management and agriculture. But another part, the part that still smarted from his cool indifference, felt a sudden urge to play along.

"I'm afraid I couldn't possibly comment on His Grace's private pursuits," she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "A duchess must maintain some air of mystery about her husband, after all."

The crowd tittered excitedly, clearly taking her evasive answer as confirmation of Edmund's hidden depths.

Adeline felt both guilt and satisfaction. It wasn't precisely a lie, she told herself. After all, there was still so much about Edmund that remained a mystery to her.

As the evening wore on, Adeline found herself continually besieged by curious guests, all eager for some insight into the private life of the enigmatic Duke of Holbrook. With each interaction, she felt herself growing more confident, more adept at navigating the treacherous waters of high society gossip.

"Is it true that His Grace once wrestled a bear?" Lady Ashworth asked eagerly.

Adeline's lips twitched. "Oh my, wherever did you hear such a thing?"

"So, it's not true?" another lady chimed in, looking disappointed.

"I neither confirm nor deny," Adeline replied with a conspiratorial wink. "A duchess must maintain some air of mystery about her husband, after all."

The ladies tittered excitedly.

"But surely, Your Grace," a young debutante pressed, "you must have some exciting tales to share about the Duke's heroic deeds!"

"My dear," Adeline said gently, "a truly heroic man doesn't need to boast of his deeds. His actions speak for themselves."

"How romantic!" the debutante sighed.

As the evening progressed, the questions continued.

"Does the Duke really speak seven languages?"

"I've lost count," Adeline demurred.

"Is it true that he can tame wild horses with just a whisper?"

"His Grace does have a way with animals," she replied.

With each interaction, Adeline grew more confident in her deflections, always maintaining the image of a perfectly happy marriage.

"You must be so proud to be married to such an extraordinary man," an older matron commented.

Adeline's smile was genuine this time. "I am indeed fortunate," she said softly. "More than words can express."

She deflected the more intrusive questions with gentle humor, offered just enough information to satisfy without truly revealing anything of substance, and always, always presented the image of a perfectly happy marriage. Whatever the true nature of their relationship, to the outside world, they would appear as the ideal couple.

By the time dinner was announced, Adeline was exhausted but exhilarated. She had faced the ton's scrutiny alone and emerged victorious.

As she made her way to the dining room, she scanned the crowd for Edmund, eager to share her small triumph with him.

But as her eyes swept the room, they landed not on her husband, but on a strikingly beautiful woman in a gown of deep crimson. The woman's gaze was fixed on something—or someone—across the room, a predatory smile playing on her lips.

Adeline followed her line of sight, her heart sinking as she realized the object of the woman's attention was none other than Edmund. The look on his face—shock, anger, and something else she couldn't quite name—told her all she needed to know.

This, she realized with a growing sense of dread, must be the infamous Joanna. Adeline's mind raced, recalling whispered conversations and veiled hints from previous social events.

She had heard rumors about Edmund's past entanglement with Lady Strathmore, though the details of their courtship and its abrupt end remained shrouded in mystery. The ton had buzzed with speculation for months.

As she watched the woman begin to make her way towards Edmund, Adeline felt all her hard-won confidence begin to crumble.

"Well, well, if it isn't the elusive Duke of Holbrook." A hauntingly familiar voice sent a chill down Edmund's spine.

He was standing by the window, a glass of brandy in hand, grateful for a moment's respite from the endless small talk. He had just extracted himself from a tedious conversation with Lord Rutherford about wild boar when she appeared.

He turned slowly, his face a mask of icy indifference as he met Joanna's eyes. She was wearing a gown of deep crimson, her smile predatory as she looked him up and down.

"Lady Strathmore," he said, his voice clipped. "I wasn't aware you'd be in attendance this evening."

Joanna's laugh was like cut glass, beautiful and potentially lethal. "Oh, come now, Edmund. Still insisting on formalities? Even with our history"

Edmund felt his jaw clench, memories of betrayal and heartache threatening to overwhelm him. He took a sip of his brandy, using the moment to compose himself.

"Our history, as you put it, is precisely why I prefer to maintain formalities, Lady Strathmore," he said coolly. "Things have changed."

"Have they?" Joanna purred, stepping closer. "I heard you'd finally taken a bride. Tell me, does she satisfy you as I once did?"

White-hot anger surged through Edmund at her words. Before he could formulate a suitably scathing reply, he caught sight of his wife across the room, making her way towards them.

"If you'll excuse me," he said curtly to Joanna. "I believe I see Lord Ashworth. We have some business to discuss."

Without waiting for a response, he strode away, his mind racing.

He hadn't expected to encounter Joanna here, hadn't prepared himself for the onslaught of emotions her presence evoked. Anger, certainly, and disgust at her blatant attempt at seduction. But also, to his surprise, a sense of… indifference. The pain she had once caused him seemed distant now, overshadowed by his concern for Adeline.

As he reached Lord Ashworth, Edmund glanced back, his heart sinking as he saw Joanna approach his wife. He was too far away to intervene without causing a scene, but close enough to hear Joanna's voice, dripping with false sweetness.

"So, you're the new Duchess of Holbrook?"

Edmund watched as Adeline straightened her spine, lifting her chin in a show of defiance that made something twist in his chest. But he could see the flicker of intimidation in her eyes as she took in Joanna's flawless beauty.

Joanna's gaze raked over Adeline, lingering pointedly on the scar that marred her cheek. "How… interesting," she murmured, her tone making it clear she found Adeline anything but. "I must say, you're not at all what I expected. But then, I suppose beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

Edmund took a step forward, fury building in his chest at her thinly veiled insult. But before he could intervene, a footman's voice rang out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served!"

He saw Adeline's relief at the interruption, even as she struggled to maintain her composure. As the crowd began to move towards the dining room, Edmund made his way to his wife's side.

"Duchess," he said softly, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

She looked up at him, surprise and something like gratitude flickering in her green eyes. As she placed her hand on his arm, Edmund felt a surge of protectiveness. He may not have been able to shield her from Joanna's barbs, but he could at least ensure that she didn't endure the rest of the evening alone.

As they made their way to the dining room, Edmund caught Joanna's eye across the crowd. The look she gave him was full of malice and promise—a clear indication that her games were far from over.

As Edmund guided Adeline to their seats at the long dining table, he couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in her posture. Her chin was lifted defiantly, but he could see the slight tremor in her hand as she placed it on the back of her chair.

"Are you all right?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Adeline's green eyes met his, surprise flickering in their depths. "I'm fine, Your Grace," she replied, her voice steady despite the uncertainty he could see in her gaze. "Thank you for your concern."

Edmund nodded, pulling out her chair, and took his seat beside Adeline after she'd sat down. To his left sat Lord Huxley, a portly gentleman known more for his love of gossip than his intellect.

"I say, Your Grace," Lord Huxley began as the first course was served, "you've been holding out on us! I had no idea your Duchess was such a charming creature."

Edmund felt rather than saw Adeline stiffen beside him. "Indeed," he replied coolly. "I count myself fortunate."

Lord Huxley leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Adeline with an intensity that made Edmund's fists clench beneath the table. "Tell me, Your Grace," he addressed Adeline directly, "that scar of yours—was it a childhood accident? Or perhaps something more… exciting?"

A hush fell over their vicinity, the other guests poorly disguising their interest in Adeline's response. Edmund watched as a flush crept up his wife's neck, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her soup spoon.

Before she could formulate a reply, he found himself speaking, his voice low and dangerous. "I would thank you, Lord Huxley, to refrain from such impertinent questions. The Duchess's personal matters are not fodder for dinner conversation."

Lord Huxley's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the vehemence in Edmund's voice.

"I… I meant no offense, of course," he stammered. "Merely curious, you understand."

"Your curiosity is noted," Edmund said coldly, "and dismissed. Perhaps we might discuss a more appropriate topic? I hear your estates in Yorkshire have been particularly productive this year."

As Lord Huxley launched into a detailed account of his crop yields, Edmund chanced a glance at Adeline. She was staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Edmund inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, surprised by the warmth that bloomed in his chest at her gratitude. He hadn't planned to intervene so forcefully, but something about Lord Huxley's blatant disrespect had ignited a fierce protectiveness in him.

As the dinner progressed, Edmund found himself hyper-aware of Adeline's presence beside him. He noted the grace with which she handled her cutlery, the diplomatic way she engaged in conversation with their dining companions. More than once, he caught her gaze darting across the room to where Joanna sat, a flicker of unease crossing her features each time.

"She can't hurt you," he found himself saying during a lull in the conversation, his voice pitched low for Adeline's ears only. "Joanna, I mean. She's all talk and no substance."

Adeline's eyes widened slightly at his words. "I… thank you, Your Grace," she murmured. "I admit, she is somewhat… intimidating."

Edmund felt a pang of guilt at the vulnerability in her admission.

"Nonsense," he uttered, more gruffly than he had intended. "You're worth ten of her."

A becoming blush spread across Adeline's cheeks at his words, and he felt an unexpected urge to reach out and touch her face, to trace the line of her scar with his fingertips. He quashed the impulse ruthlessly, reminding himself of the promises he'd made after Joanna's betrayal.

No emotional entanglements. No vulnerabilities.

And yet, as the evening wore on, Edmund found his resolve weakening. He observed Adeline's quiet strength as she navigated the social minefield of the dinner party, her wit and charm slowly winning over even the most skeptical of their dining companions. He noticed the way the candlelight caught the honey tones in her hair, the sparkle in her green eyes when she laughed at a particularly clever joke.

By the time dessert was served, Edmund was forced to admit to himself that his feelings for his wife were far more complicated than he'd initially believed. The cool indifference he'd cultivated since their wedding day was beginning to crack, revealing something warmer, more dangerous beneath.

He caught sight of Joanna watching them from the other side of the dinner table. The look of frustrated calculation on her face filled him with grim satisfaction.

Whatever game she had been playing this evening, it was clear she had not achieved her desired outcome.