Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

" T hornley, I need a carriage prepared immediately," Adeline said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.

The butler's eyebrows rose slightly, but his composure remained impeccable. "Of course, Your Grace. Might I inquire as to your destination?"

Adeline hesitated, her hand tightening on the handle of her valise. "London. My father's townhouse."

Thornley's eyes flicked to the packed bag, then back to her face. "I see. And shall I inform His Grace of your departure?"

"That won't be necessary," Adeline replied, perhaps too quickly. "I'm sure the Duke has more pressing matters to attend to."

A hint of concern crossed Thornley's face. "Your Grace, forgive me, but are you certain?—"

"Please, Thornley," Adeline interrupted, her composure cracking slightly. "Just… have the carriage prepared."

The butler straightened, his professional mask sliding back into place. "Of course, Your Grace. Right away."

As Thornley departed to carry out her instructions, Adeline took a shaky breath. She glanced around the grand entrance hall, wondering if this would be the last time she saw it. The thought sent a pang through her chest, sharper than she had expected.

Within minutes, the carriage was ready.

Adeline climbed in, steadfastly ignoring the curious glances of the footmen as they loaded her luggage. As the carriage pulled away from Holbrook Manor, she resisted the urge to look back.

The journey to London passed in a blur. Adeline stared out the window, unseeing, her mind replaying her argument with Edmund over and over.

By the time the carriage pulled up in front of her father's townhouse, her eyes were dry and her resolve hardened.

"Adeline?" Isabella's surprised voice greeted her as she entered the drawing room. "What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

One look at her sister's concerned face and Adeline's carefully constructed composure crumbled. A sob escaped her lips, and suddenly she was enveloped in Isabella's arms.

"Oh, Adeline," Isabella murmured, stroking her hair. "What happened?"

"It's… it's Edmund," Adeline managed between sobs. "He… I thought… but he doesn't…"

Isabella guided her to the settee, sitting down beside her. "Shh, it's all right. Take a deep breath and tell me everything."

Slowly, haltingly, Adeline recounted what happened at the ball and the subsequent argument with Edmund. Isabella listened intently, her brow furrowing with concern.

"That absolute cad," Isabella muttered when Adeline finished. "How dare he treat you like that?"

Adeline shook her head, wiping at her tears. "It's not entirely his fault. I… I pushed him too hard. I should have known better than to expect…"

"To expect what?" Isabella demanded. "Love? Respect? Basic human decency? Adeline, you deserve all of those things and more."

"Do I?" Adeline whispered, her hand unconsciously rising to touch her scarred cheek. "Perhaps I was fooling myself, thinking someone like Edmund could ever truly want me."

Isabella grasped her sister's hands, her eyes blazing. "Now you listen to me, Adeline Follett. You are beautiful, inside and out. Those scars are a part of you, yes, but they don't define you. And if Edmund can't see past them to the amazing woman you are, then he doesn't deserve you."

Fresh tears welled up in Adeline's eyes, but this time, a small smile accompanied them. "When did my little sister become so wise?"

Isabella grinned, squeezing her hands. "I learned from the best. Now, tell me, what do you plan to do?"

Adeline's smile faded. "I… I don't know. I can't go back, not after… But I don't know where else to go."

"You'll stay here, of course," Isabella said firmly. "Father's away on ‘business'—" she rolled her eyes, making air quotes, "—and won't be back for days. We'll figure something out before then."

"But what about your debut? Your suitors?" Adeline protested weakly. "I can't risk ruining your chances."

Isabella waved a dismissive hand. "Hang my debut. You're more important. Besides," she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "I rather think Lord Pembrook likes me for more than just my unblemished reputation."

Despite everything, Adeline found herself chuckling. "Isabella! You scandalous thing."

"There's that smile," Isabella said softly. "It's going to be all right, Adeline. We'll face this together, just like we always have."

As the sisters embraced once more, Adeline felt a glimmer of hope in her chest. She might be lost and heartbroken, but she wasn't alone.

Edmund glared at the untouched breakfast tray on his desk. "Thornley," he barked, "have Midnight saddled. I'm going for a ride."

The butler, who had been hovering near the door, bowed stiffly. "Right away, Your Grace."

As Thornley retreated, Edmund caught a glimpse of the man's worried frown. He scowled, turning to stare out the window.

Three days.

It had been three days since Adeline left, and the entire household was walking on eggshells around him.

Good . Let them worry. Let them wonder .

Minutes later, he was sitting atop Midnight, urging the stallion into a gallop across the estate grounds. The wind whipped at his face, stinging his eyes, but he welcomed the discomfort. It was better than the hollow ache in his chest.

"Faster," he murmured to Midnight, leaning low over the horse's neck.

As they crested a hill, Edmund pulled on the reins, surveying his domain. Holbrook stretched out before him, lush and green in the summer sun. It was everything he'd ever wanted, wasn't it? A prosperous estate, free from his father's mismanagement. He didn't need anything—or anyone—else.

"Your Grace!" a distant voice called.

Edmund turned to see one of his tenants waving from a nearby field. He raised a hand in acknowledgment but didn't slow down. He wasn't in the mood for conversation, for the inevitable questions about his wife's absence.

Adeline .

Edmund's jaw clenched. She was probably back in London by now, telling her family all about his coldness, his inability to?—

No. He wouldn't think about that. About her.

Hours later, Edmund returned to the stables, Midnight's flanks heaving. As he dismounted, a memory flashed through his mind—Adeline, pale and trembling, as a spooked horse reared up before her. His arms around her waist, pulling her to safety.

"Damn it," he muttered, shaking his head to clear the image.

"Is everything all right, Your Grace?" The stable boy's tentative voice broke through his reverie.

Edmund's head snapped up. "Fine," he growled. "See to Midnight."

As he strode towards the house, another memory assailed him — Adeline, her face alight with triumph as she guided her mount around the paddock. "I did it, Edmund!" she'd cried, her smile radiant.

"Your Grace?" Thornley's voice startled him. Edmund realized he'd been standing in the entrance hall, staring into space. "Shall I have luncheon prepared?"

"No," Edmund snapped. "Bring a bottle of brandy to my study."

Thornley's lips thinned in disapproval, but he merely bowed. "Very good, Your Grace."

In his study, Edmund poured himself a generous measure of brandy, before downing it in one swallow. The liquor burned his throat, a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest.

As he poured himself another measure, a flash of red caught his eyes. He turned to see a crimson envelope poking out of the drawer where he'd stuffed Joanna's letters.

"It's clear you're falling for her. But we both know you'll never truly let her in."

Joanna's taunting words echoed in his mind. With a snarl, he yanked open the drawer, seizing the newest stack of unopened letters.

"Your Grace?" Thornley's voice came from the doorway. "I've brought the brandy you requested."

Edmund whirled around, the letters clutched in his fist. "Leave it," he barked. "And I'm not to be disturbed for the rest of the day."

Thornley's eyes flicked to the crumpled envelopes, then back to Edmund's face. "Of course, Your Grace," he replied, his tone neutral. "Will there be anything else?"

"No," Edmund growled. "Get out."

As the door closed behind Thornley, Edmund slumped into his chair. He ripped the letters and flung the pieces on the floor.

"Good riddance," he muttered, pouring himself a third glass of brandy.

As the afternoon wore on, Edmund's mood darkened further. Every corner of the house seemed to hold a memory of Adeline—her laugh echoing in the library, the scent of her perfume lingering in the drawing room.

"Blast it all," he growled, stalking from room to room.

He found himself outside her chambers, his hand on the doorknob before he realized what he was doing. With a muttered curse, he wrenched his hand away.

"Your Grace?" a maid's timid voice called from behind him. "Is there something you need?"

Edmund turned around, fixing her with a glare. "No," he snapped. "And why are you lurking about? Don't you have work to do?"

The maid's eyes widened in fear. "Y-yes, Your Grace. I'm sorry, Your Grace," she stammered, curtseying hastily before fleeing.

As evening fell, Edmund found himself back in his study, nursing yet another glass of brandy. The room felt cavernous, oppressively silent without Adeline's presence.

"Could you ever love me?"

Her words haunted him, the hurt in her eyes as he'd failed to answer that question searing his soul. He should have said something, anything. But the fear—the paralyzing terror of being hurt again—had stolen his voice.

A knock at the door pulled him from his brooding thoughts.

"What?" he barked.

Thornley entered, his face a mask of professional calm. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but a message has arrived from London. From the Dowager Marchioness of Alderton."

Edmund's heart leaped, then plummeted. Not from Adeline, then. "Well? What does she want?"

"She requests your presence in London at your earliest convenience, Your Grace. She says it's a matter of some urgency."

Edmund snorted. "Urgency, I'm sure." He waved a dismissive hand. "Tell her I'm indisposed."

Thornley hesitated. "If I may, Your Grace… perhaps a change of scenery might be beneficial. The house has been rather… tense these past few days."

Edmund's eyes narrowed. "Has it? And whose fault is that, I wonder?"

"I wouldn't presume to say, Your Grace," Thornley replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Shall I have the carriage prepared for tomorrow morning?"

For a long moment, Edmund was silent, warring with himself. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I leave at first light. Now leave me."

As Thornley bowed and retreated, Edmund turned to stare out the window. London. Where Adeline was. Where he might see her. Where he might have a chance to explain…

No , he told himself firmly. It changes nothing. She's better off without you .