Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

" A deline? What in God's name are you doing here?" Lord Brenton's voice, sharp with surprise and displeasure, cut through the peaceful afternoon quiet of the drawing room.

Adeline's head snapped up from the book she'd been reading, her heart racing at the sight of her father's thunderous expression.

"Father," she said, rising to her feet. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

"Clearly," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "Where is your sister? And more importantly, why aren't you at Holbrook, where you belong?"

Adeline felt her cheeks flush with a blend of shame and anger.

"Isabella is out with her companion. As for why I'm here…" she trailed off, unsure how to explain the tumultuous events of the past few days.

Lord Brenton's frown deepened. "Well? I'm waiting for an explanation, Adeline. Has something happened at Holbrook? Is the Duke ill?"

"No, nothing like that," Adeline said quickly. "Edmund is… he's fine. I just needed some time away."

"Time away?" Lord Brenton's voice rose incredulously. "You've been married for barely three months, and you're already abandoning your duties? I thought I raised you better than this, Adeline."

The accusation stung, igniting a spark of defiance in Adeline's chest. "Raised me? Is that what you call it, Father? Ignoring me for years, pushing me aside in favor of Isabella?"

Lord Brenton recoiled as if slapped. "How dare you? I have always provided for you, given you every advantage?—"

"Every advantage?" Adeline laughed bitterly. "Like forcing me onto that wretched horse when I begged you not to? Like blaming me for the accident that scarred me for life?"

"That's enough!" Lord Brenton roared, his face flushing an alarming shade of red. "I will not stand here and be accused by my own daughter. You have responsibilities now, Adeline. A position to uphold. What will people say when they hear that the Duchess of Holbrook has run away from her husband like a petulant child?"

Adeline felt tears pricking her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. "Is that all you care about? What people will say? What about what I need? What about how I feel?"

"Feelings?" Lord Brenton scoffed. "Feelings have no place in a marriage like yours. You have a duty to your husband, to your family. Or have you forgotten everything I've taught you?"

"Taught me?" Adeline's voice cracked. "You taught me that I was a disappointment. That I wasn't pretty enough, charming enough, good enough. You taught me to hide away, to be ashamed of who I am."

Lord Brenton's face paled, a flicker of something—guilt, or perhaps even regret, she wondered—crossing his features before his expression hardened once more. "You're being hysterical, Adeline. This is precisely why I worried about your ability to handle the responsibilities of a duchess."

"Hysterical?" Adeline repeated, her voice rising. "Is that what you call it when I finally speak the truth? When I finally stand up for myself?"

She took a step towards him, her hands clenched at her sides. "Do you want to know why I'm really here, Father? Because for the first time in my life, I dared to hope for something more. I dared to think that maybe, just maybe, I deserved to be loved. But you made sure I never believed that, didn't you?"

Lord Brenton's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. He looked suddenly old, the lines on his face deepening as the weight of her words settled over him.

"Adeline," he said, his voice tight. "I have always done my best for you."

"Best for me?" Adeline shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. "No, Father. You wanted what was best for you . For your reputation. For the family name. You never once considered what I needed." She turned away, unable to bear the sight of him any longer. "I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that everything is fine—that I'm fine."

"Where are you going?" Lord Brenton called as she strode towards the door.

"To Grandmama's," Adeline replied without turning back. "At least there, I know I'll be welcomed."

"Adeline, come back here!" Her father's voice followed her down the hall, but she didn't slow down.

She burst out of the townhouse, blinking in the bright afternoon sun.

"Thomas!" she called to the family coachman. "Please, take me to Lady Gillingham's house."

As the carriage pulled away from the curb, Adeline caught a glimpse of her father in the doorway, his face a mask of confusion and dismay. She turned away, her heart heavy but her spirit higher than it had been in years.

The confrontation she'd avoided for so long was finally over. Now, she just had to figure out what came next.

The carriage drew to a stop in front of Lady Gillingham's townhouse. Adeline took a deep breath, steeling herself before descending.

"Adeline?" Her grandmother's surprised voice greeted her at the door. "My dear, what's happened?"

One look at Lady Gillingham's concerned face and Adeline's composure crumbled.

"Oh, Grandmama," she choked out, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

"Come here, child," Lady Gillingham soothed, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Let's get you inside and sort this out."

Once settled in the drawing room with a cup of tea, Adeline recounted the whole story—the ball, the argument with Edmund, her confrontation with her father.

"That absolute cad!" Lady Gillingham exclaimed when Adeline finished. "And I don't know which one I mean, your father or your husband!"

Despite her tears, Adeline couldn't help but laugh. "Grandmama!"

"Well, it's true," her grandmother huffed. "I've half a mind to knock my cane into their thick skulls. See if I can't knock some sense into them."

Adeline's laughter turned into a hiccupping sob. "Oh, Grandmama, what am I going to do?"

Lady Gillingham's face softened. "First, you're going to stay here for as long as you need. No arguments," she added as Adeline opened her mouth to protest. "This is your home too, always."

"But what about Father? And Edmund?" Adeline asked, twisting her handkerchief.

"They can stew in their guilt for a while," her grandmother said firmly. "It'll do them both good to realize what they're missing without you."

Adeline felt a spark of hope ignite in her chest. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," Lady Gillingham replied, patting her hand. "You're stronger than you know, my dear. And it's high time both those men realized it."

As the afternoon wore on, Adeline felt the weight on her chest lifting. Her grandmother's unwavering support and sharp wit were a balm to her bruised heart.

"You know," Lady Gillingham mused as they sat down to dinner, "I always thought Edmund needed a good kick in the pants. I just never imagined my granddaughter would be the one to deliver it."

Adeline nearly choked on her soup. "Grandmama! I didn't kick him!"

"No, but you stood up to him. And to your father," her grandmother pointed out. "That takes courage, my dear. More courage than either of them has shown lately."

Adeline felt a warmth bloom in her chest—a feeling she realized was pride. "I suppose you're right," she said softly.

"Of course, I am," Lady Gillingham winked at her. "Now, let's discuss how we're going to make those two beg for your forgiveness. I'm thinking public humiliation might be in order."

As Adeline laughed at her grandmother's increasingly outrageous suggestions, she felt truly unburdened for the first time in days. Whatever happened next, she knew she had at least one person firmly in her corner.

The tavern was dimly lit, the smell of ale and smoke heavy in the air. Edmund sat across from Daniel, barely touching the tankard in front of him, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the rowdy patrons.

Daniel, ever the lively companion, had been regaling him with stories in a failed attempt to lift his spirits.

"You know, Edmund, I've seen you gloomy before, but this—this is downright miserable," Daniel said, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig from his drink. "If you don't snap out of it, people will start thinking I've lost my charm."

Edmund didn't respond, only shook his head as he stared into the tankard. "It's not something you can joke away, Daniel," he muttered.

"I'm not trying to joke it away," Daniel countered, his tone more serious now. "But drowning yourself in ale and silence isn't going to fix anything. If you miss her, do something about it. Sitting here wallowing isn't getting her back."

"I've already made a mess of things," Edmund replied, his voice strained. "What could I possibly say that would make it right?"

Daniel sighed, leaning forward. "You're the Duke of Holbrook, for heaven's sake. If you can't win back your own wife, what hope is there for the rest of us mere mortals?"

Edmund shot him a look, but it lacked its usual fire. "I appreciate your attempt at humor, but this isn't some game, Daniel."

Daniel shrugged, finishing his drink. "Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when she finds someone else who knows how to apologize."

With that, Edmund stood abruptly, throwing a few coins onto the table. "I'm going home."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "That's more like it. Maybe the spirits there will loosen that stubborn tongue of yours."

Without another word, Edmund strode out of the tavern and into the cool night air.

He made his way back to Holbrook Manor, his mind turning over Daniel's words.

The next morning, Edmund found himself in his study again, the remnants of a sleepless night weighing heavily on him. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it did little to warm the cold knot in his chest.

He stared at the half-empty glass of brandy in his hand, the same one he'd poured the night before when he'd returned from the tavern.

Daniel's words echoed in his mind, urging him to do something—anything—but here he was, still wallowing in his misery. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a slow sip, letting the burn of the brandy distract him for a moment.

It didn't help.

Before he could sink further into his thoughts, Lady Alderton swept in, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Edmund! What have you done?"

Edmund straightened, his brow furrowing. "Grandmother? What are you?—"

"Don't you ‘Grandmother' me," she snapped. "I've just had a most enlightening conversation with Lady Gillingham. How dare you treat Adeline this way?"

Edmund's jaw clenched. "My marriage is none of your concern."

"It became my concern the moment you let that trollop Joanna back into your head!" Lady Alderton retorted. "After everything she put you through, how could you be so foolish?"

"This has nothing to do with Joanna," Edmund growled, rising to his feet.

Lady Alderton scoffed. "Doesn't it? You're pushing away a wonderful woman because you're too afraid to open your heart again. Well, let me tell you something, you stubborn mule?—"

"Enough!" Edmund roared. "You have no right to interfere in my life!"

"I have every right when you're throwing away your only chance at happiness!" his grandmother shot back. "And what about Adeline? She deserves none of this pain you're causing her."

Edmund faltered, the anger draining from him. "Adeline… she's in pain?"

Lady Alderton's expression softened slightly. "Of course she is, you fool. She cares for you, though heaven knows why."

Edmund sank back into his chair, his head in his hands. "I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have," his grandmother agreed, her voice gentler now. "And it wasn't just today. I sent you a summons weeks ago, and you ignored it. You might have avoided this had you come sooner. But it's not too late to fix it."

Edmund looked up, a spark of determination in his eyes. "You're right. I need to see her, to explain."

"Excellent," Lady Alderton said briskly. "We'll go to London together. I'll have the carriage?—"

"No," Edmund interrupted, standing up abruptly. "There's no time for that. I'll ride."

His grandmother blinked in surprise. "Now? But it's nearly dark!"

"I don't care," Edmund said, striding towards the door. "I've wasted too much time already." As he reached the threshold, he paused, turning back to her. "Thank you," he said softly.

Lady Alderton smiled. "Go get her, my boy. And Edmund?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"If you hurt her again, I'll thrash you myself."

Despite everything, Edmund found himself chuckling. "I don't doubt it, Grandmother. I don't doubt it at all."

With that, he was gone, leaving Lady Alderton shaking her head fondly.

"Young love," she murmured. "Always so dramatic."