Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

" A re you quite all right up there?"

The amused male voice cut through the night air, startling Adeline so badly that she nearly lost her precarious grip on the garden wall.

She whirled around, her heart pounding, to find a tall man standing below, his face hidden in shadow.

"I… I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she managed, her voice higher than usual. "Simply enjoying the evening air."

The man took a step closer, moonlight revealing a quizzical expression on what she couldn't help but notice was a rather handsome face.

"From atop a wall? How novel. I must remember to try it at my next social engagement."

Adeline felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Of all the times to be caught in such an undignified position!

She scrambled down from the wall, wincing as she heard the distinctive sound of tearing fabric.

As she turned to face him, her hand instinctively rose to her cheek, smoothing down a loose strand of hair to cover the scar that marred her face.

She braced herself for the inevitable look of disgust or pity, but to her surprise, the stranger's expression remained unchanged. His gray eyes met hers steadily, showing no sign of revulsion at her appearance.

"Yes, well," she said, brushing down her skirts with as much dignity as she could muster, "I find conventional methods of socializing rather overrated."

The stranger's lips twitched, as if fighting a smile. "Clearly. Though I must say, your technique could use some work. The proper way to scale a wall is to use the vines, not the decorative ironwork."

Despite her mortification, Adeline felt a spark of indignation. "Oh? And I suppose you're an expert on clandestine escapes, Sir?"

"Not at all," he replied, his tone light. "I simply prefer to use the gate when I feel the need to flee a tedious gathering."

Gate?

Adeline's eyes widened.

Of course! How could she have forgotten about the garden gate? Without another word, she turned and dashed towards the far end of the garden, leaving the bemused stranger behind.

But as she reached the wrought iron gate, her heart sank. It was locked, the metal unyielding under her desperate hands.

"No, no, no," she muttered, rattling the bars futilely.

"I'm afraid it's kept locked during events," the man's voice came from behind her, closer now. "Something about preventing guests from wandering off, I believe."

Adeline ignored him, fumbling with the pins in her hair. If she could just find something to pick the lock…

"Good God, woman!" the man exclaimed, sounding both impressed and exasperated. "Are you actually attempting to pick the lock? With a hairpin? Have you taken leave of your senses entirely?"

"My senses are perfectly intact, thank you," Adeline snapped, her frustration mounting. "And I'll thank you to mind your own business, Sir."

The man moved closer, and she found herself acutely aware of his imposing presence.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Not when I find a lady attempting to break out of a respectable gathering as if she were escaping Newgate Prison. What on earth has driven you to such desperate measures?"

Adeline's hands stilled on the lock, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "You wouldn't understand," she said softly. "I have to leave. For my sister's sake. Her debut… I can't ruin it for her. I won't."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the soirée and the gentle rustle of leaves.

When the man spoke again, his voice was softer, tinged with curiosity. "Your sister's debut? But surely… Wait a moment. Your voice. I recognize your voice."

Adeline's head snapped up, and she looked at the stranger— really looked at him—for the first time.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a bearing that spoke of authority. And his voice… A memory of another encounter, of witty banter exchanged behind the safety of masks, flashed through her mind.

"The masquerade ball," she breathed, realization dawning. "You were there."

His eyes widened in recognition. "The lady in blue. Of course. But what were you doing at such an event if your sister hasn't yet debuted? Surely you know the risks."

Adeline hesitated, then sighed. "I was tricked into it by my sister. She can be quite persuasive when she wants to be."

The man's eyebrows rose. "Tricked? By your younger sister? Surely a woman of your age and supposed wisdom shouldn't be so easily deceived by a mere girl."

Adeline bristled at his condescending tone. "I beg your pardon, Sir, but you know nothing of my situation. My sister can be quite resourceful when she sets her mind to something."

"Resourceful?" he scoffed. "Is that what we're calling it now? It seems to me that you allowed yourself to be dragged by the nose into a potentially scandalous situation. What if you had been discovered?"

"It was harmless fun," Adeline protested, feeling defensive. "One last adventure before… before I leave London."

"Leave London?" he repeated, stepping closer. "To Scotland, I presume?"

Adeline's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you?—"

"Word travels fast in certain circles," he interrupted, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern. "But why? And why the desperate escape attempt?"

Adeline backed away, suddenly very aware of how alone they were in the darkened garden. "It's none of your concern, Sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going."

"Going where, exactly?" he challenged, his tone colored with amusement and exasperation. "Over the wall? Through the locked gate you've failed to open? Or perhaps you plan to tunnel your way out?"

"You are insufferable!" Adeline exclaimed, her temper flaring. "Why can't you simply leave me be?"

He stepped closer, close enough now that she could see the flecks of gold in his gray eyes. "Because, Madam, contrary to what you might believe, I am actually trying to help you."

"Help me?" Adeline scoffed, even as her heart raced at his proximity. "By mocking me and preventing my escape?"

"By saving you from yourself," he retorted, his voice low and intense. "Do you have any idea what would happen if you were caught out here, alone, with a man? Your reputation would be in tatters. Is that what you want?"

Adeline opened her mouth to reply but found herself at a loss for words. He was right, of course. In her panic to escape, she hadn't considered the consequences of being discovered in such a compromising position.

For a moment, they stood there, their faces inches apart, the air between them charged with an emotion Adeline couldn't quite place. She noticed details she'd missed moments earlier—the strong line of his jaw, the way his cravat was slightly askew, the faint scent of sandalwood that clung to him.

Just as the tension reached a fever pitch, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment.

Adeline's eyes widened in panic, but before she could react, the stranger gently but firmly steered her behind a large rhododendron bush.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice called out. "This area is off-limits to guests."

Adeline held her breath, her heart pounding so loudly that she was sure it would give their hiding place away. But the stranger stepped out from behind the bush, his posture relaxed and confident.

"What is the meaning of this?" he barked, his voice sharp with anger. "I demand to know why this gate is locked during an event. This is absolutely unacceptable!"

The footman visibly flinched at the stranger's tone. "I-I apologize, my lord. I wasn't aware?—"

"Wasn't aware?" the stranger cut him off, his voice dripping with disdain. "It's your job to be aware. This oversight is causing significant inconvenience to the guests. I expect this gate to be unlocked immediately. Am I making myself clear?"

"Y-yes, my lord," the footman stammered, clearly intimidated. "Right away, my lord. I'll fetch the key immediately."

"See that you do," the stranger growled. "And have someone look at this latch. It seems rather stubborn."

As the footman hurried away, Adeline slowly emerged from her hiding place. She looked up at her unlikely savior.

"Thank you," she said softly. "That was… quick thinking."

His expression hardened, the warmth from moments ago vanishing. "It was necessary. Now, I suggest you return to the party immediately. We shouldn't be seen together."

Adeline blinked, taken aback by his sudden coldness. "Of course. I'll just?—"

"A lady capable of scaling walls and picking locks is clearly a force to be reckoned with," he muttered, almost to himself. Then, as if realizing he'd spoken aloud, he cleared his throat. "You should go first. I'll wait here for a few minutes before following."

As Adeline turned to leave, she suddenly realized something that made her pause.

Throughout their entire encounter, this stranger hadn't once stared at her scars in disgust or even mentioned them. It was such a rare occurrence that she almost couldn't believe it.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, noticing her hesitation.

"No," she replied quickly. "It's nothing. Good evening, Sir."

With that, Adeline made her way back towards the glittering lights of the soirée, her mind whirling. As she slipped back into the crowded ballroom, she found herself torn between relief at avoiding scandal and a strange, unexpected reluctance to part ways with the enigmatic stranger.

His lack of reaction to her scars lingered in her thoughts, a small spark of hope in an evening that had been filled with cruelty and judgment. But she pushed the feeling aside. After all, what did it matter? She would be leaving London soon, and this strange encounter would become nothing more than a memory.

As Edmund made his way back to the glittering ballroom, his mind was awhirl with thoughts of the enigmatic lady he'd just encountered. He found himself replaying their conversation, a smile tugging at his lips as he recalled her quick wit and spirited retorts.

The scar that marred her cheek, which he'd noticed in the moonlight, intrigued rather than repelled him. It spoke of a story, of character, setting her apart from the parade of pristine, porcelain-faced debutantes he'd endured all evening. There was a depth to her, a complexity that called to something long dormant within him.

What struck him most, however, was her utter lack of simpering deference. She'd stood her ground, matching him barb for barb, showing a strength of character that was refreshingly rare. The memory of her flashing green eyes and the way she'd attempted to pick the lock with a hairpin made him chuckle.

She was unlike any woman he'd ever met.

As he re-entered the ballroom, Edmund found himself scanning the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of her. But the sea of faces yielded no sign of his mysterious lady. He felt an unexpected pang of disappointment.

"Edmund, darling! There you are!" His grandmother's voice cut through his musings.

Lady Alderton approached, her eyes twinkling with relief and curiosity.

"Grandmother," Edmund greeted her, schooling his features into a neutral expression.

Lady Alderton peered around him, craning her neck as if expecting to see someone following in his wake. "Is everything all right, my dear? You were gone for quite some time."

"Everything's fine, Grandmother," Edmund replied, perhaps a touch too quickly. "I simply needed to take the air."

His grandmother raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Take the air? Is that what they're calling it these days? And I suppose you needed quite a lot of it, considering how long you were gone."

Edmund felt a flush creeping up his neck. "Grandmother, please. It's nothing of the sort. I assure you, I was alone."

"Mhm," Lady Alderton murmured, clearly unconvinced. "Well, whatever—or whoever—was occupying your time, I'm glad to see you've returned in one piece. Though your cravat is looking a touch askew, darling."

Edmund's hand flew to his neck, adjusting the fabric with a barely suppressed groan. Trust his grandmother to notice such a detail. "It's merely the evening air, Grandmother. Nothing more."

Lady Alderton's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Of course, dear. The evening air can be quite… invigorating, can't it?"

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Edmund changed the subject. "I believe it's time we took our leave, Grandmother. The hour grows late, and I have an early meeting tomorrow."

For a moment, it seemed Lady Alderton might press the issue further. But then she nodded, a slight frown creasing her brow.

"Very well, if you insist. Though I must say, you're passing up a golden opportunity to mingle further. There are still so many lovely young ladies I wanted to introduce you to."

"Another time, perhaps," Edmund said, offering his arm to escort her out of the ballroom.

As they made their farewells to their hosts, he couldn't help but let his gaze wander once more, searching for a glimpse of honey-brown hair or the flash of green eyes.

But his lady in blue was nowhere to be seen. As they stepped into their waiting carriage, Edmund found himself filled with a curious mix of frustration and anticipation.

He hadn't even learned her name, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again.

As the carriage rolled through the darkened London streets, his mind drifted once more to their encounter in the garden. The way she had challenged him, her quick thinking, her determination—all of it combined to create a puzzle he found himself eager to solve.

"You're awfully quiet, my dear," Lady Alderton observed, breaking into his thoughts. "Are you quite sure nothing's troubling you?"

"I'm fine, Grandmother," he said, patting her hand reassuringly. "Merely thinking about the future of Holbrook. There's so much to be done."

Lady Alderton nodded, though her eyes studied his face intently. "Indeed there is, my dear. Indeed, there is. Though I can't help but feel there might be more occupying that mind of yours than merely crop rotations and tenant agreements."

Edmund smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps, Grandmother. Perhaps."