CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The following day, the skies were clear. Clouds that had been heavily banked with snow had moved on, and bright sunshine streamed through Adam’s window.

He rose, shivering with the chill, but his chest was light, his head clear and ready to start the day.

As he looked down into the bright gardens, the snow reflecting the sunshine back against the house, he marvelled at how profoundly his life had changed in the three years since Anastasia's passing. He scratched his jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble scrape against his thumb, and glanced at the door, anxious for Villiers to come and get him dressed for the day.

When Anastasia had died, any semblance of a routine had disappeared entirely. Adam had barely eaten anything in those first few months and hadn’t slept more than an hour a night.

Villiers would stand quietly behind him, razor in hand, waiting for a command that never came. Adam had been a shadow of himself, hollow-eyed and miserable.

He walked to the mirror, taking in his complexion and the shadows that still remained beneath his eyes, brushing his thumb lightly over the puffed skin. Turning his head from side to side, he examined his profile, the stubble dark against his pale jaw.

The door clicked open as Villiers entered, shoulders taut, his back straight as always. Adam watched him cross the room, floorboards creaking in his wake.

“Good morning, my Lord.”

“Good morning, Villiers,” Adam said, his voice tight. There was a long silence as his man began to gather his shaving equipment. “I require colour today,” Adam said with determination.

Villiers hesitated, his brow knitting together as he poured hot water into the basin. “Colour, my Lord?”

“Mm. I look like a corpse.”

Villiers huffed a laugh. “A little pale perhaps, my Lord.”

“Did we bring anything other than my black coats? I feel as though that is all I have worn for years.”

Villiers cleared his throat. “I believe that is correct, sir. But I brought the green and the blue with us, should you need them.”

Adam smiled at the twinkle in his eye. He thought that this might be a day Villiers had been waiting on for some time.

“Go to it then. Try to make me look less like I have been exhumed from the earth if you possibly can.”

Villiers actually laughed then as he got to work, and it occurred to Adam that he had not heard him do that for many years.

***

Lionel’s gaze lingered on Adam as he sat opposite him at the breakfast table. He chewed his scrambled eggs, the buttery mixture melting against his tongue as he contemplated his friend.

“You look very smart this morning,” he said as Adam glanced up at him and then down at himself in consternation. “Villiers appears to have persuaded you against black; however, did he manage it?”

“It is festive, is it not?”

“Indeed,” Lionel said, his lips quirking, “and when has Adam Bentley cared for the season in recent years?”

Adam rolled his eyes at him as he took a large bite of his toast, and Lionel chuckled. He reached for another portion of eggs, wanting to make sure he had enough energy for the day.

They would be skating on the lake within the Sternwood estate, and Lionel was excited to spend more time with Miss Fairfax.

The guests were soon changing into thick winter coats and heading out of the manor toward the lake.

The long driveway was cleared of snow, but the cold snap overnight meant that the track had turned icy. Many of the guests were slipping and sliding all over the place and Lionel took the opportunity to offer Miss Fairfax his arm as they made their way down to the lakeside.

The lake's surface glittered with diamonds of ice, stretching unbroken to the far shore. Adam breathed in the cold air as his breath billowed around him.

Turning, his gaze fell on Emilia, who was pulling herself to her feet, the leather straps of her skates crisscrossed over her boots. She looked from the bank to the ice and back again, a small frown on her face.

He walked toward her, his skates making the short journey awkward as he tried to balance his weight against the frozen ground.

“Lady Emilia?” he asked, approaching unsteadily and letting out a small cry of alarm as his skate slid against a stone. She turned, reaching for him with a startled laugh as he launched himself against her, his muscles tensing violently as he tried to regain his balance. “My apologies,” Adam added breathlessly. “I was going to enquire whether you need someone to assist you, but it appears that I am in the same position.”

She chuckled. “Perhaps we can help each other, my Lord,” she replied, offering him her arm. Adam linked his own through hers, the fabric of their sleeves brushing together as the warmth from her body seeped into his. “Ready my Lord?”

“Let us embark on our adventure.”

They stepped down onto the lake’s surface. Other members of the group were already skating in the distance, giving them certainty about the strength of the ice beneath their feet. Adam tightened his grip on Emilia’s arm as he struck out against the frozen surface.

Her body pressed steadily against his side as they moved together, and the chill that had settled in his bones began to retreat. Adam's back straightened, his shoulders tightening as he relished the feeling of her arm in his, listening to the slicing crunch of their skates as they moved in long, languid strides.

The sky above them was starkly white above their head, the tiny black dots of geese in the distance the only movement to mar its perfect surface. The sounds of the other skaters slowly faded as they continued, and Adam glanced at Emilia, whose expression was soft, her eyes observing the heavily laden trees and frozen grasses around the bank.

“My mother has noticed you have been paying me some attention,” Emilia said suddenly, surprising him.

Adam’s stomach turned over. “What did she say?”

“That I should not let the opportunity to be with the duke pass me by,” her tone was clipped, her jaw tight, and Adam felt his fingers clench into a fist as a familiar stab of jealousy spiked through his heart.

“I see,” he managed, “and what did you say in return?”

“I am afraid I said very little. I know my mother well, and it is not always wise to argue.”

A soft smile played over Adam’s lips. “My aunt is the same. Sometimes it is best to stay silent when one knows one cannot persuade another of your point of view.”

“Exactly.”

“It is pleasant to be able to speak privately with you,” Adam confessed.

“Just so long as we stay in plain sight, I have no wish to flirt with scandal again,” her voice held a quiver, reminding him of what she had been through.

“No indeed,” Adam said quickly.

Emilia’s gut clenched at the sincerity in Adam’s words. She felt a prickle of unease as she glanced around the lake, her eyes looking furtively from one member of the party to another. No one appeared to be watching them, but that guaranteed nothing.

On the other side of the lake, Benedict Easton wobbled onto the ice, his arms held out to the sides for balance, his gaze wild as he tried to remain upright. Caroline’s peals of laughter rang out across the chilly air as his neck turned puce in the wake of her derision.

“Are you familiar with my past, my Lord?” Emilia asked. To her surprise, his arm moved at her question, placing it lightly against her lower back. The movement left their bodies much closer, and he took her hand as he steadied her. His expression was resolute, the mask of propriety falling away as he squeezed her fingers.

“I have heard some rumours about it, Lady Emilia, I will not lie to you. But I do not know the story from your own lips, and therefore, it has no weight of interest to me.”

Emilia nodded. “Nothing occurred between myself and Lord Blackmoor. I am always reluctant to speak to it purely because it gives veracity to a tale if one denies it, but it is the truth.”

“If it helps you, I never had any doubt.”

Emilia breathed out a heavy breath at that. She had suspected he put no store by the rumours but nothing in society was ever certain.

She leaned into his body, closing her eyes for a moment at the welcome comfort it brought her.

“We were speaking of music,” she continued, letting her mind go back to that day. “Lord Blackmoor, as you likely know, is married with three children now. I was speaking to him as one might to a father of an acquaintance. He had an immense passion for music, and I think was rather moved by my playing.”

“I would not doubt that either.”

“We were speaking for some time, and I was rather… enthused about a particular topic. He was speaking of composition. Mozart is known for his work's relative lack of errors, writing completed symphonies without any need for corrections. It is a topic I have studied myself. I have written music of my own, and it is scratched through with notes and annotations throughout. It fascinates me that Mozart saw the music on the page and simply poured a completed masterpiece onto parchment.”

Emilia sighed, a chill running through her body at the memory as she swallowed around the tightness in her throat.

“I spoke to him for almost half an hour. Foolish now I come to recall it, but we were in the throes of a fascinating discussion. It was later remarked upon, and someone I had often quarrelled with in the past took the commentary and spread it about like wildfire. I was ruined in a single day because of a conversation about Mozart. People I had known all my life assumed I was trying to steal someone else’s husband. It still boils my blood to think of it.”

Adam’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on her back, and Emilia sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of it. No one observing them would be able to see what he had done but the reassurance was clear.

“Thank you for sharing that with me. I hope you know that you have an ally in me, Lady Emilia. I have known you for a short time only, but I would never have suspected you were in the wrong. Society is a fickle and cruel place.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Emilia said fiercely. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

They continued on, Emilia’s strides more certain with the weight of the earl beside her. She felt secure and safe in his arms, and it was a feeling that was becoming more familiar by the day.

Behind Lord Bellebrook and Emilia, Charlotte had been following in their wake. She had only caught snatches of the conversation but her cheeks were flushed with happiness now. If there had been any doubt in her mind of her friend’s connection to the man, it had been made a certainty now. Emilia never spoke of her scandal and rarely even discussed it with Charlotte. That she had chosen to convey her innermost secrets to Lord Bellebrook was a shocking and pleasing revelation.

“You are altogether too quick for me,” came a voice from behind her, and she grinned on a half-turn to see Lord Spencer approaching her. His answering grin was made all the more comical by his uneven gait. It appeared Lord Spencer was not altogether comfortable on the ice.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my Lord?” Charlotte asked. The gentle chatter on the lake was a faint hum in her ears, and it was liberating not to be overheard after spending so many days indoors on top of one another.

“I am now,” Lord Spencer said simply, coming up beside her, his eyes twinkling.

Charlotte felt heat creep up her neck at his attentions, but she managed to glide into step with him. She watched the elegant figures of Emilia and Lord Bellebrook as they made their way to the bank to admire the view.

When she looked back at her partner, Lord Spencer’s eyes were fixed on her hair, a flutter of light playing over his face as her crystal hairpin caught the sunlight. He did not look away for several seconds, her breath stuttering in her chest as she waited to see what he would do. After a moment, Lionel glanced about him warily and then tucked a loose strand of Charlotte’s hair behind her ear.

It was a gesture that took seconds only, but the excitement and joy that burst through Charlotte’s chest was something new. Lionel’s hands returned to interlace behind his back, and they carried on their journey.

Charlotte’s feet faltered as they went, Lionel’s firm arm coming out to steady her.

***

Adam and Emilia reached the edge of the lake, looking out over the rolling hills of the English countryside. The snow presented a white patchwork winter quilt, and Adam exhaled happily.

“What a magical thing snow is,” he said, “and tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I believe we will be blessed with a white Christmas.”

Emilia stared out at the stillness and perfection of the landscape, her heart filled with a mixture of joy and disquiet.

“And after Christmas,” Adam added, “I will be able to speak with your—”

“Lady Emilia!”

Emilia startled violently at the sound of Elderbridge approaching, her stomach in knots at the thought that he might have overheard them.

Have I spent too long with Lord Bellebrook? Has the duke come to comment upon it?

She turned with a forced smile as the duke skated up to them. He was still ungainly on his feet but seemed to have gathered some of his composure.

“Are you enjoying the skating?” he asked cheerfully.

Emilia was about to respond, but as the duke approached, it became clear he was less steady on his feet than she had first believed. It was obvious that he had misjudged his speed as he came up to them.

Emilia gave a startled shriek as he almost bowled her over. She was saved, however, by Lord Bellebrook colliding with the duke to stop him, the two men grappling with one another as they tried not to fall to the floor.

Emilia lurched forwardand gripped the duke’s arm, and finally, they were all able to right themselves.

“What the devil, Bentley!” the duke exclaimed. It was probably intended to be good-natured, but there was a sharp glint in his eye that Emilia was immediately wary of.

“My apologies, your Grace; I thought you were going to collide with us.”

Emilia glanced at Adam. What a diplomatic response, she thought; the duke would have barreled Adam into the bank if he had not stopped him.

“Not at all, not at all,” the duke said hurriedly clearing his throat loudly as he forcibly calmed his temper. The telltale sign of heat at his neck showed how angry he was but his lips curled all the same and he looked at Emilia with an expression that was almost fond.

“Will you accompany me, Lady Emilia?” the duke asked, holding out his arm.

Adam had the overwhelming urge to slap it away and even push the man to the ground for his audacity, but Emilia stepped forward and took it, and the duke sailed her away.

Emilia glanced back just at the last moment with a look of apology, and Adam watched them go with a spike of irritation so acute he felt like punching through the ice.

“Quite the pair, aren’t they,” Frederick said as he glided up to Adam, stopping expertly beside him in quite a contrast to the duke. Adam glanced at him, the irritation still bubbling beneath the surface, and nodded.

“They are indeed,” for all the wrong reasons.

“I was trying to calculate the size of this lake compared to the one at your estate. Would you say it is about the same size or slightly smaller?” Frederick asked.

“A little smaller, perhaps. The rear pond increases its size beside the trout stream, I suppose.”

“Ah yes, of course. Many happy times spent there, I do declare,” Frederick said, his sharp features pink and shiny from the wind, his grey eyes almost exactly the shade of the sky above their heads. “It has been many years since we have skated on that lake; Anastasia would have loved this.”

Adam ground his teeth, placing his hands behind his back and squeezing his fingers together.

Must the man mention Anastasia every time I see him? It cannot be an accident.

“She always wore the ice skates you bought for her that Christmas, do you remember? She spent hours dying the laces green, only for them to turn black eventually.”

Adam remembered the incident well. It had been in the year when Anastasia had decided that absolutely every aspect of their house had to be linked to Christmas in some way. She had heard that it was possible to dye her bootlaces dark green from the white they had once been. She had spent hours leaving them to soak in the bowl, but then, when she had taken them out, they were completely black. She had had white skates and black laces for the rest of her life.

The rest of her life.

Adam cleared his throat, nodding to Frederick and followed Emilia and the Duke of Elderbridge at a safe distance, every strike across the ice a painful memory.

The joy of the day faded away to nothing as the sky darkened above his head.