Chapter 17

Ada stared out of her sister’s parlor window while sipping a cup of hot tea. Her mind was in turmoil and her heart in absolute tatters. She wondered how long it would take for either to be restored to normal.

“Why not come sit with me?” Bethany asked, her voice hushed on account of her baby daughter who slept in a cot near the fire. “There’s plenty of mending to keep your hands busy.”

“The problem is not with my hands,” Ada muttered, her gaze tracking the rain as it fell against the window pane and slid down the glass in long streaks. “And sitting makes me restless. I’ve been doing so most of the day, first this morning, then in the carriage, and finally here after my arrival.”

The only exercise she’d gotten had been the brisk walk she’d taken to Berkley Square and back. Perhaps it was time for another, regardless of the weather. It would in all likelihood help calm her thoughts. Which fluctuated between regret, anger, and absolute misery.

“I simply meant that it ought to provide a better distraction than looking out the window.”

Ada sighed. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake. She’d forgotten how domestically inclined her sister could be. In her opinion, all problems could be fixed by completing a chore. Then again, she’d fallen for a man who’d loved her in return, instead of a duke she had no hope of marrying.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Ada said, turning to face her, “but you know I’m not very good with needle or thread.”

Had there been a book to bind, it would have been an entirely different matter. If only she’d thought to bring some of her tools along.

She glanced at the door. “I think I’ll go out.”

Bethany looked up sharply from the piece of embroidery in her lap. “In this weather? You can’t possibly, Ada. Not without getting soaked through in a second.”

“Perhaps not,” Ada agreed, “but I think the fresh air will do me some good. I shan’t be long.”

“But” —Ada had already set her cup down and was crossing the floor— “you risk getting sick, which won’t be good for the baby.”

Ada stopped, shook her head, and expelled a deep breath. “You’re right. Forgive me. I’m not used to considering such things.”

“It’s all right.” Bethany patted the seat beside her. “Come. There’s a hem here that doesn’t require great skill. Why not give it a try?”

Ada scrunched her nose but chose not to argue. Perhaps Bethany was right and focusing on some menial task would help. At least the spot by the fire was warm, she reflected, as she sank down onto the loveseat beside her sister. A petticoat was quickly placed in her lap and a threaded needle provided.

“Just stitch along the edge of that seam there,” Bethany said, showing her where the previous stitching had come undone.

Ada picked up the needle and went to work, doing her best to keep the stitches short and neat, like Mama had taught her. But the monotony of the task did not keep her mind from wandering. Her thoughts repeatedly strayed to Anthony, to the conversation they’d shared at the ball, and the kiss that had followed.

Good heavens. Had that happened only the day before last?

It already felt like forever ago with everything that had transpired since.

Would he even know she’d stopped by? Would his sister have thought to mention it to him? Probably not.

Eventually, her uncle would tell him she’d gone away for a while. In the event he stopped by the shop. Unfortunately, given how much Uncle James relied upon her, she couldn’t stay gone for long. She’d have to return. Not just for Uncle James’s sake, but for the sake of helping Anthony and his friends with their book.

If only she hadn’t offered to help them with it. Except she had, and as such, she was now committed – honor bound – to see the task through. All she could do was hope she’d be somewhat recovered and ready to face the duke when their paths crossed next.

Right now, that seemed highly unlikely considering how much she struggled to hold herself together.

“Will you not share your reason for choosing to visit?” Bethany quietly inquired.

Ada had not mentioned Anthony. She’d merely shown up and asked if she might stay a while. “I’d rather not.”

If she did, she’d probably burst into tears.

“You said Uncle James is all right – that your coming has nothing to do with him. Yes?”

“Correct.”

“The two of you are getting on well enough?”

“Yes. He’s a wonderful man. I’ve no idea what I would do without him to rely on.”

Bethany placed her hand over Ada’s. “Stewart and I would help you, Ada. Surely you know that.”

“Thank you.” Ada appreciated the gesture of kindness. For although her brother-in-law did all right for himself as a solicitor, his practice was still quite new. Making a name for himself and improving his income would take time.

“I realize Papa neglected you with regard to a dowry,” Bethany added. “It wasn’t fair. If I had money saved away somewhere, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat. But everything we have has been spent on this house. From what I gather, based on the letters she sends on occasion, Dorothy is no better off.”

“I know,” Ada murmured. “It’s all right. I’m actually very content in London with Uncle James. I just needed a break for a few days. That’s all.”

“Are you certain there’s nothing else?” Bethany asked. “When you arrived, you looked like you’d come from a funeral.”

Ada pressed her lips into a tight line and forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a misunderstanding with someone I thought was a friend.”

“Ah.” Bethany nodded as though that made perfect sense to her. “Well, you’re welcome here. We’ll make sure you forget whatever grief this person caused you in no time at all.”

As much as Ada appreciated the sentiment, she doubted her sister’s plan would work. Forgetting Anthony would be as impossible as forgetting her very own name. But with time, she hoped her heart would hurt a bit less when she thought about him.

* * *

What was wrong with carriages these days? Whenever Anthony used one it never seemed to move as fast as he’d like. Getting out of London had taken ages, whether because of the hour he’d chosen to set off or some other reason, he’d no idea. But at least they were finally on the North Road.

Angling himself, he peered out the window and tried to glimpse the road ahead. Ah. His was not the only carriage. There was a bloody procession of them. No wonder they were trotting rather than racing along as he’d hoped. By now, they ought to have been halfway there, but he feared they’d only travelled a third of the journey.

He gave his head a swift shake and reclined against the squabs, his sprained ankle resting comfortably on the opposite bench.

Closing his eyes briefly, he pondered the various invitations he’d received these past few weeks. There had been a couple of house parties among them, which could explain the sudden rush of carriages heading toward the Earl of Cloverfield’s estate.

They’d continue past Hitchin if he were correct, so he might as well resign himself to arriving at Ada’s sister’s an hour later than he’d initially planned. Crossing his arms, he went back over the events of the past forty-eight hours. At this time the day before yesterday, he’d been excited about the ball, and the prospect of seeing Ada.

Now, he felt like his life was falling apart.

He gnashed his teeth and wondered if he would ever stop being angry with Miss Starling. What she’d done was utterly unforgiveable. Perhaps he ought to have punished her more. Her intention had after all been to wreck Ada’s life and his for her own selfish gain.

All he could do was hope the damage she’d done wasn’t permanent. Hopefully, Ada would see him when he showed up and listen to his explanation. Hopefully, she would believe what he told her for if she didn’t…

Swallowing, he tried to ignore the way his gut twisted. They would find a way to get through this. He had to have faith.

The carriage trundled onward as rain started to fall – a steady pitter patter that gradually turned into a full downpour. Progress became increasingly tedious, until the horses had slowed to little more than a walk. Anthony huffed an unhappy breath.

At this rate he’d not get there until well after dark, which might make finding the house a bit more of a challenge.

Plus, arriving after five was bad enough form without also intruding on supper, which he was now sure to do unless he delayed and arrived even later. He drummed his fingers restlessly on his thigh and decided he might as well give up fretting about it since it was out of his hands.

One thing was certain – he would not wait until morning to call on Ada. He absolutely had to speak with her before he went to bed or he’d not be able to sleep. Confined to the cabin in which he travelled, he glanced at the lap desk Mathis had sent along with him. Perhaps if he wrote a little, the time would pass quicker and he would relax.

He grabbed the lap desk, opened it, and retrieved a piece of paper. Since Brody had written the last third of the novel, he was also meant to write the ending, but when Anthony had spoken to him at the ball, he’d mentioned struggling with it. So all three men had decided to give it a go. Eventually, they’d present the different versions to Ada – provided she’d be on speaking terms with him once more – and let her pick the one she thought was best.

Anthony dipped his quill in the inkwell and went to work. Now that he knew what it meant to lose one’s chance at true love, he had no trouble relating to what the earl in the story was going through. He, too, was chasing after the woman he wanted and was desperate to reach her before she arrived at Gretna Green and married another. All because he’d been too afraid of what others would say if he made her his wife.

Anthony would not make the same mistake, he vowed.

To hell with public scrutiny.

All that mattered was Ada.

And it was because of how much he needed her to accept his offer of marriage that his heart gave a nervous jolt when the carriage eventually came to a halt.

They’d arrived in front of a narrow but well-kept house. Anthony gathered the papers he’d been working on and packed them away along with his quill. He grabbed his cane and waited for his footman to set down the step. The poor man, drenched from head to toe on account of the rain, completed the job without any hint of displeasure, and helped Anthony alight.

“Thank you, Travis. I’ll see to it that you get a hot bath and a comfortable bed for the night.”

“I’d appreciate that a great deal, Your Grace. Thank you.”

Eager to get out of the horrid weather, Anthony hobbled across the pavement and started up the steps that led to Bethany Howard’s front door. Once there, he gave the knocker a few solid raps.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. A young man dressed in a dark brown wool jacket and matching trousers answered the call. He stared at Anthony “Yes?”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Anthony said. “I’m the Duke of Westcliffe. I’ve come to speak with Miss Ada Quinn, if she’s available.”

When the other man simply gaped at him, he produced a card and handed it over, just to be sure his identity wouldn’t be called into question.

“This is the Howard home, is it not?” he asked, when the silence dragged on.

“Um…yes. Of course. Forgive me. I… Do come in.” The man stepped aside so Anthony could enter. “I’m Mr. Stewart Howard, Miss Quinn’s brother-in-law.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Anthony said.

“A shock to make yours,” Mr. Howard responded. His eyes widened as though he’d not meant to say that out loud. “Forgive me but your arrival is most unexpected. It’s also a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

“I gather Miss Quinn made no mention of me?” The disappointment Anthony felt over this could not be measured. He wasn’t sure how he’d expected to be greeted, but it hadn’t been like this – as though he were a stranger no one had heard of.

“She hasn’t said much of anything since she got here,” Mr. Howard informed him. “Refused to address whatever it was that brought her to our doorstep, except it having to do with a friend letting her down. I’m guessing that friend might be you, although I’m not sure if that means I should welcome you or chase you away.”

“This is your home, Mr. Howard. If you ask me to leave I shall do so, although I’m hoping you’ll let me speak with Miss Quinn first. There’s been a terrible misunderstanding, you see, and I’d very much like to straighten it out.”

“I can’t promise she’ll see you.”

“All I’m asking is for you to tell her I’m here. The rest will be up to her.”

“Very well then.” Mr. Howard suggested Anthony place his hat and gloves on the hallway table before inviting him to enter the parlor. “Help yourself to a drink if you like while I inform my wife and Miss Quinn of your arrival.”

Anthony entered the tidy room where a fire burned with an orange glow. The space was small and the furniture of a cheaper quality than what he was used to, but it was clean and orderly. He’d even go so far as to say it was cozier than any other home he’d ever visited.

The style was simple, a little bit rougher than one might find in upper class homes, with less flamboyance about it. A heavy wool blanket draped over the side of the love-seat, a basket of knitting tucked underneath a nearby table, and a pair of spectacles seemingly forgotten on top of a book offered a glimpse of what life was like inside these walls.

Warm and comfortable in a way he’d not felt before meeting Ada.

He needed her to understand what had happened – that he’d had nothing to do with Miss Starling’s lies – that he loved her, needed her, wanted her, and—

“No.” He heard the hasty footsteps upon the hallway floor and caught a fleeting glimpse of someone hurrying past the partially open parlor door. “Tell him to leave. I’ve nothing to say to that man.”

Anthony crossed the room and flung open the door just in time to spy the hem of a dove grey gown disappearing up the stairs.

“Ada!” He knew it was highly uncivilized of him to holler her given name, but he was beyond caring. “Please come and—”

An upstairs door slammed shut.

He stared at the stairs and briefly considered going in pursuit, only to change his mind. Turning to the two other people who filled the hallway, he bowed toward the woman who stood beside Mr. Howard. “Anthony Gibbs, Duke of Westcliffe.”

“Bethany Howard, Ada’s sister,” said the woman.

Anthony nodded. “I’m sorry for the fuss I’ve caused. And for interrupting your meal, as I’m sure I must have done.”

“It’s fine. I’m just happy to make some sense of everything. Perhaps you’ll shed some light on the situation since Ada has been more tightlipped than a country mouse.” Mrs. Howard encouraged Anthony to return to the parlor where her husband proceeded to pour them each a glass of port.

“I fear your sister is under the impression that I plan to marry Viscount Ebberly’s daughter.” He sipped his drink and savored the sweet spicy flavor. “Apparently, the woman told your sister this was the case.”

“I don’t follow,” Mrs. Howard said with a frown. “Why would Ada care whom you marry? I mean, it’s not as though…wait…are you suggesting that you and she are… Heaven have mercy, have you made advances upon her?”

Mrs. Howard, who was a good head shorter than he and of a slight build, suddenly looked as though she might be ready to knock him out cold.

As much as he disapproved of lying, he refused to mention the kiss he and Ada had shared.

“No.” He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ve done no such thing.”

“Then why are you here?” Mrs. Howard pressed,

Anthony sighed. “Because I want to make sure she knows the truth. It’s imperative she understands how much she means to me and that it’s impossible for me to live without her.”

The Howards were both staring at him as though his head were upside down.

“What exactly are you saying?” Mr. Howard asked, alerting Anthony to the fact that he’d left the most important thing out.

“What I’m saying,” Anthony told the pair firmly, “is that I want her to be my duchess.”