Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

S he walked a long way. Far enough that her feet began to smart. Far enough that the familiar merged into the unknown. Far enough that when it began to drizzle, she knew not which way to turn for shelter. It would have been better had she lost herself in the slums of St Giles, for at least there she might have known where to find a friendly face or two. There was no help to be had wherever this place was—only the looming frontages of vast, closed-up houses and the disapproving stares of strangers.

"Miss Richmond?"

Adelaide spun around. Relief warred with resignation upon seeing the Earl of Kemerton hastening towards her. It stood to reason that he should be the one to discover her wandering aimlessly about, damp and bedraggled, wearing nothing but a morning gown and mangy old boots.

She dipped a desultory curtsey. "My lord. "

"I thought I recognised you. What has happened? Are you in any difficulty?"

He had removed his coat as he approached, and she was about to spurn his unspoken offer of draping it around her shoulders, except when she felt the warmth of it, she could not bring herself to refuse. She smiled her thanks and pulled it more tightly closed.

"I am lost," she admitted reluctantly. "Would you be so kind as to point me in the right direction to get home?"

"To Chiltern Court?" he asked dubiously.

"No, we have come to stay at Tipton House."

He frowned but did not explain why. "I shall escort you myself. This way." He gestured for her to go with him. "Have you been separated from your friends?"

"What friends?" she retorted without thinking. Then, more collectedly, added, "Forgive my ill humour. No, I have not been separated from anybody. I walked out alone."

He did not say anything. He did not need to; she knew he disapproved. She wished she did not care but nevertheless heard herself making excuses.

"Oakley and I had a disagreement. I left the house in a pique."

Still, he said nothing, and it was with a sinking heart that Adelaide realised she had yet again admitted to running away.

"I know what you are thinking, but I do not always bolt when things are difficult. 'Tis only that I was in high dudgeon, and Tipton House did not feel like much of a refuge. "

"You do not need to justify yourself to me, madam. It is perfectly understandable that you should wish to find solace. I am only sorry that you could not find it at Tipton House. Would that you had been allowed to stay and find it at Chiltern Court."

"You consider me better suited to life in the country, I suppose? Unworthy of moving in the same circles as you?"

The slight pause before he responded made Adelaide think he might have been repressing a sigh.

"Miss Richmond, if I may—your propensity to assume everyone is looking down on you is wholly unjustified. I meant only that it would have been better had you been allowed more time to accustom yourself to your altered circumstances. Society can be a hostile place for anyone unused to its peculiarities."

"Precisely why we thought it would be a good idea for me to practise while London was quiet."

"It is rarely quiet at this time of year any more."

"So I discovered at Mr Hanson's ball."

"Mr Hanson?" he asked with a distinct note of disdain. "How long were you in town before he issued that invitation?"

"No time at all, for he came to Chiltern Court to invite us."

He looked at her sharply. Then, although he gave a short, sardonic laugh and shook his head, he said no more.

"Have you forgotten that you also came to Chiltern Court, my lord? "

"And left directly, once I comprehended the delicacy of the situation."

Adelaide was caught unawares by a flicker of relief that it had not been her incivility that chased him away. She pushed the thought aside. "I did not consider Mr Hanson's visit intrusive. Why should he not show his support? He is a good friend of Oakley's."

"I know." His tone dripped with disapproval.

"You do not like him?"

"Not especially."

"Because he is not titled?"

That earned her another frown. "No—because he has a reprehensibly cavalier approach to life."

His censure so closely mirrored Adelaide's own misgivings that it shamed her, for Mr Hanson had been nothing but attentive since the first moment of their acquaintance. "That is as may be, but he is the only person who has shown me any kindness since I arrived here!"

She regretted her petulant words as soon as they were out of her mouth. What an absurd thing to say to a man who had lent her his coat and was getting damper by the minute for the want of it. She risked a glance at his face. What he made of her outburst was unclear, but his unwillingness to return her gaze was telling.

Something in his aspect captured her attention. Perhaps he was clenching his teeth. Whatever it was, it gave even greater definition to the contours of his face—and being a face that was by no means in need of enhancement, it was rather an arresting sight. She did not realise how enthralled she was by it until he spoke .

"If I had known you were here, I certainly would have come as well to offer my support—to you and Oakley. I regret that I have been out of town until today."

Too flustered by her own distraction to think of any better response, Adelaide mumbled, "You are getting wet."

"Not very."

"Still…" She looked around and saw an alcove in the plinth at the foot of a nearby building. "We could wait under there until it eases off."

He fixed her with a curious look for a moment or two, then inclined his head and altered their path thither.

It was a smaller recess than it had looked, and heaven to goodness he filled the space! A full head and shoulders taller than she and seeming as solid as the walls enclosing them. Adelaide had known farmhands with less muscular builds.

"What did you argue about with Oakley?"

"Pardon?" She pressed herself into the cold stone and attempted to sound composed. "Oh, husbands. He thinks I should marry soon, what with everything as it is. But, well…we are not in accord."

"One must assume he has your best interests at heart."

"Foisting me onto yet another family to save him from having to care for me feels very much in his best interests, not mine."

"A man need not relinquish all affection for his sister when she leaves home. I cannot but think it would be impossible to do. It saddens me that life has taught you otherwise. "

Adelaide had tried to convince herself that she had revealed nothing of significance about her childhood to Lord Kemerton during her outburst in Chiltern Court's folly. With this remark, he confirmed that she had. Mortified, she knew not how to respond and waited self-consciously for him to say something else. When he did, it was with a startlingly consoling tone.

"I have known Oakley since I was a young boy, and I have never seen him more animated than when Mr Bentley brought the proof that you are a Richmond. He is elated to have found you. I rather think his eagerness to find you a good match shows too much affection than too little. I suspect he is keen to act the part of brother. He is the best of men, but he can be a little impetuous."

It was generous praise—and just. It was, after all, Oakley who had rescued her from a life of service, believing in her in the face of every reasonable objection—and doing nothing to earn her distrust.

She twisted her mouth ruefully. "A defect that seems to run in the family."

"I would not say that going for a walk was disastrously reckless," he said with a small chuckle. "Even in the rain."

"No, I—" She floundered. His smile was magnificent. "I meant coming to London. What you said before was right—it was a mistake to come so soon. I have made a fool of myself at every turn, always saying or doing the wrong thing. And I cannot dance for toffee. So much for being a Richmond—I am walking proof that nobility is not defined by birth, for impetuousness and two left feet are the only family traits I can boast. "

"And extraordinarily fine eyes."

She was once more at a loss for how to reply—even more so when he smiled again at her discomposure.

"Come, it has stopped raining. Let us get you home. We are not far away now."

Adelaide shrugged out of his coat and handed it back to him as they set out. "Are you sure? I was walking for a lot longer than this before you found me."

She had walked in circles, apparently, for they turned but three more corners before arriving at Tipton House.

Oakley leapt to his feet when they entered the parlour. "Adelaide, I am heartily sorry for—Kem! I did not know you were in town. What brings you to Tipton House?"

Lord Kemerton gave Adelaide the subtlest sidelong glance before answering calmly, "Do I need a reason to call on my friends?"

Adelaide sent him the briefest of smiles in return. It seemed Oakley was unaware she had left the house, and she was thankful Lord Kemerton did not mean to expose her.

"Of course not," Oakley replied. "You are very welcome. And as it is you, I shall not delay the two things I must say to my sister." He turned to her. "Will you allow me to apologise for being the most ham-fisted idiot of a brother? I dearly wish to do my best for you, but I allowed myself to get carried away. Can you forgive me?"

For all that Adelaide had thought him like her stepbrothers before, with this apology, he proved himself as different from them as he could possibly be, for none of the Bookers had ever shown the slightest contrition for the distress they caused her. "Maybe by dinnertime," she said with a grin. "What was the second thing?"

His countenance took a more serious turn. "I have received a note from my father." Gesturing for her and Lord Kemerton to join him in sitting, he retrieved an open letter from the table. "It seems the discovery that his brother had another child besides me prompted him to investigate whether there are more."

Adelaide baulked. She had wondered often over the years whether she had brothers and sisters from her natural parents, but the discovery of one had quite banished the question of others from her head. She glanced at Lord Kemerton. He was watching her with concern, which to her surprise, she found rather comforting.

"Bentley was not Father's man of business when I came into the family, but a Mr Linford," Oakley continued. "It was this Linford who retrieved me from the orphanage after somebody who worked there wrote to my father to inform him I was in their care. But Linford is long dead, and unable to shed any more light on the matter, and therefore Bentley has been to the orphanage himself. He has discovered that there used to be two buildings—one each for the boys and girls. The girls' quarters burnt down in 1799."

"The year we were orphaned," Adelaide whispered.

Oakley nodded. "The girls were all put up temporarily by neighbouring families until permanent homes could be found for them. I have no brothers on file, but all the girls' records were lost in the fire."

"Mine were not. "

"Because the Bookers adopted you in May, and the fire happened in June."

"So, there is no way of knowing whether you have other sisters," Lord Kemerton said.

"No—and we might never find out."

"I do not care," Adelaide declared. Both men looked askance at her, but she did not quail, for she meant it. "I have changed brothers and sisters quite enough for one lifetime. No matter how many I began with, I was separated from all of them when my parents died. The Bookers took me in because they were childless, so it was only me until Mrs Booker had a baby of her own, and I was an older sister for the days until they both died. Then Mr Booker remarried, and his new wife brought two of her own children to the marriage, so I became the youngest of three. Then two more babies came along, and I became number three of five. Then I ran away, and all four of them washed their hands of me. Now I have but one brother, but he is genuinely mine, and he is by far my favourite. He will most certainly suffice."

Oakley could not have looked better pleased. "And there I was worried that you would hate me after my performance this morning!"

"You are fortunate indeed that she does not," Lord Kemerton remarked. "I am sure you do not deserve such clemency." He did not appear to be joking, and Adelaide wondered whether he had been angrier with his friend than his earlier defence of him indicated.

"How do you know? You were not even here," Oakley retorted .

"It is a safe assumption," Lord Kemerton replied more sportively.

A thought occurred to Adelaide. "You had better hope that if we do have other sisters, they also have violet eyes or a striking resemblance to one of your ancestors."

"Why?"

"How else will you know you are related? If you do not know who she is, you might fall in love with her."

Oakley's face fell. "That is not funny."

Lord Kemerton evidently thought it was, for he began laughing. "It would be just your luck, though."

"You can stifle it, too!" When Adelaide giggled, Oakley turned to her, shaking his head incredulously. "It is a good job you are my only sister, for if I had another, you would most certainly not be my favourite!"

It ran on that way for a while, with Oakley good-naturedly accepting their teasing. Their earlier schism notwithstanding, Adelaide was coming to deeply appreciate his easy manners—and even more deeply, his determined esteem for her. She was inordinately grateful to Lord Kemerton for reminding her of it. He must care a good deal about Oakley to take such an interest in whether he and his new sister got along. As she watched him smiling his ridiculously handsome smile at her brother, she decided that perhaps he was not quite so objectionable after all.