Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

" B etter off without you? Is that what you really think? Better off without my own sister? I have been without you my whole life—why would I want to throw it all away again now?"

"Oakley," Kem warned, but he was ignored.

"What have I done to deserve it, Adelaide? Was it not enough that I pulled you from obscurity and declared proudly to all the world that you were my relation? I thought you wanted to be in this family!"

"I do! I?—"

"Yet still you ran away, and all I have to show for my troubles is one trifling little note thanking me for your new shoes ! After you swore never to forsake me!"

Kem abruptly stepped between them, his back to Adelaide. "Stifle it, Oakley. Your sister is tired and hungry and wishes to go home. Now is not the time to vent your spleen." His voice was low and his tone implacable, and Adelaide did not need to see his face to know his expression was fierce, for her brother capitulated directly.

"Just so," he said sullenly. "Come, then. The carriage is at High Brook."

With the minimum of words exchanged, Oakley helped Adelaide onto his horse and set out back towards the house on foot, leading them by the reins. That left both her hands free, one to clutch her case in her lap and the other to resume eating her carrot. Her brother maintained his petulant silence, only hurling irritated glances her way every time she took a bite. It was not her design to be antagonistic, but she was tired and hungry. She was also somewhat vexed that he had assumed the role of injured party, conveniently forgetting the distress that had chased her away. And she could not deny that seeing Kem smirk every time she provoked Oakley to scowl was encouragement enough to make her crunch all the way to the end.

Adelaide begged that she not be obliged to face anyone at High Brook, either above or belowstairs, and waited in the carriage while both men offered the necessary platitudes within. Her uncle's carriage afforded her the first bit of comfort she had felt in days, and she began to feel all the aches and fatigue she had hitherto been stoically ignoring. She was mid-yawn when Oakley opened the door and climbed in, Kem close behind. She tried to suppress it, but Oakley still looked concerned.

"I am sorry," he said as the carriage jerked into motion. "You must have had a hellish few days. I ought not to have said all those things, only I have been out of my head with worry. "

From the corner of her eye, Adelaide could see Kem watching like a hawk. She could not help but wonder what had been said between them, for it seemed as though he would pounce if Oakley spoke angrily again. She felt a frisson of pleasure at the notion.

"Apology accepted," she told her brother. "And I am sorry to have given you so much distress. It truly never occurred to me that—" She interrupted herself with another yawn.

Oakley reached to squeeze her hand. "It is well. I am just relieved to have found you, and that you came to no harm. I am amazed you made it so far on your own without incident."

"I am not a stranger to making my own way in the world." She began to describe her journey south, but after her third yawn, Oakley stopped her.

"There is plenty of time for all that. If you are tired, you ought to try and sleep."

Adelaide would have protested, but then he unfurled a travel blanket and laid it over her, and the temptation was too great. She tucked her feet up on the seat next to her, rested her head on the squabs, and knew nothing until she woke up to a blast of cold air from the open door. Oakley was climbing back into the stationary carriage. Kem was nowhere to be seen.

"My apologies. I was trying not to disturb you."

Adelaide sat up and looked out of the window. It was still dark outside. "Where are we?"

"Basingstoke. Changing horses. I thought it easiest to keep going straight to Tipton House rather than try and find rooms somewhere. The roads are good—we ought to get there before noon tomorrow if we are lucky enough to secure fresh horses at every stop."

"Whatever you think is best. Where is Kem?"

Engaged in banging on the roof to signal to the postilion to set off, Oakley paused and cast her a quick, dubious look, but otherwise did not remark on her informality. "He is returning to Avonwyke. He insisted upon not waking you but promised to call at Chiltern Court next week."

"I see." Adelaide was disappointed he had to go but could scarcely blame him. Notwithstanding his kind words, he must think her an impetuous little fool.

As must her brother.

"Oakley, I truly am sorry. I really thought it would be best for everyone. I comprehend now that I was wrong, but by the time I realised it, I assumed it must be too late to go back. That you would hate me for leaving."

"I was angry at first. Until Kem made me see why you had done it."

"Kem? What did he make you see?"

"That you have been taught to expect that you are not wanted." Very gently, he added, "He told me how the Bookers treated you."

Adelaide recoiled, and Oakley splayed one hand in a gesture of reassurance.

"Do not blame him—he had good reason to tell me. I went there, you see. To where you grew up. It was the only place I could think to look for you. But you were not there, the Bookers did not seem to care that you were unaccounted for, and the housekeeper told me you would never return of your own free will, none of which made any sense to me.

"I returned home to find that Kem had paid another visit. When I explained the situation, the first thing he said was that I had wasted my time—that you would never go to the Bookers. Then, of course, he was obliged to explain why not."

Adelaide could think of nothing to say. Oakley winced and shook his head slightly.

"I was appalled to hear how cruel they were to you—and appalled that I never knew. I assumed you went into service because your family's condition in life required it. I ought to have known, once I found out you were raised as a gentleman's daughter, that was not the case. I cannot think why I never asked you about it. Why did you never say anything?"

"I do not like talking about it."

"Yet you told Kem."

"He caught me off guard." He has a talent for it. "I did not intend to tell him. Indeed, I rather hoped he had forgotten everything I said."

"I am afraid not. At least, he remembered enough to know you would not go there. Enough to comprehend that your wish not to be a burden was born of them bringing you up to believe you were one. Enough to know straight away where you would be—at High Brook, with your friend Patty."

"He remembered her name?"

"Kem rarely forgets anything. Especially not gambling debts, by the bye."

Adelaide smiled vaguely at his quip but was not truly paying much attention. She was thinking about the reckless speed at which Kem had been riding his horse through the night to find her. "To think how vehemently he disdained me at first!"

Oakley frowned. "Disdained you? Hardly!"

"You need not pretend on my account—I heard him with my own ears. At High Brook, when he thought your interest in me was… not brotherly , he said you were demeaning yourself by chasing after a maid."

"Yes, but that was not because he thought ill of you . It was because he thought I was behaving dishonourably." He grimaced. "I ought to explain. Do you remember that Lord Tipton had two brothers?"

"Yes. Our father, Robert, and Damian."

"Quite so. Well, many years ago, Damian…gads, there is no delicate way of telling it—Damian had a dalliance with a maid at Avonwyke and got a child on her. Disgraced, and facing dismissal, the young woman attempted to—how can I put this?— resolve the matter precipitately. By unnatural means. Tragically, her attempt went awry, and she suffered a catastrophic bleed, which killed her."

"That is horrible."

"Indeed, and it was Kem who found her. He was only thirteen at the time. He has been staunchly opposed to such involvements ever since. Indeed, he makes a point of treating all servants with a degree of respect that occasionally puts the rest of us to shame."

"What about when he followed us to Chiltern Court and was fuming that you had accepted a maid as your sister? "

Oakley grinned. "That was a rather awkward series of misunderstandings, was it not? But again, his disapproval was not for your situation, but rather what he believed to be my abuse of it. He had heard that I got you dismissed and came to see whether he could find out where you were and help secure you a new position—and to give me a flea in my ear for causing you such trouble. Only, then you came down in your pretty gown, and he thought I must have made you my mistress, and he was positively livid."

"So, he did think I looked like a courtesan?"

"Upon my word, nobody could have thought that! You looked perfectly respectable—and quite lovely, I might add. He only thought—briefly—that I had bought your favour with fine clothes."

"Oh, I see. It must be quite challenging, having a friend who holds you so strictly to account."

"I like to think I do not often behave in a way that requires me to be held to account. This was the only time I have ever run off with a housemaid. Though Kem has had more occasion to take issue with my conduct since I acquired a little sister than he ever has before. He tore strips off me for taking you to London last October."

"He did?"

"Oh yes! Said I had thrown you to the lions before I had taught you how to hunt. I told you—he really is a good sort."

Adelaide required no more convincing. She had assumed, at every turn, even as they grew better acquainted, that Kem scorned her lowly beginnings. Not only was that untrue, but he had also apparently comprehended her every motive better than she had herself—why she could not bear the idea of being an encumbrance; why she always expected that people would think her inferior; why compassion always surprised her. All those times she had felt as though he was looking beyond her person, he had been. He had been looking at—and he had seen— her . Adelaide. All of her.

"It is a shame he had to go. Who will admonish you if you vex me now?" She attempted to sound light but managed only a faint, shaky titter.

Oakley slumped back in his seat. "Knowing Kem, I expect he mostly left to give us some privacy, but he had to get back sooner rather than later anyhow, for the wedding is in two days. He ought not to have come with me to Southampton, really, but he would not hear of me going alone."

Adelaide held herself very still—a feat made easier by the weight that had plummeted to the pit of her stomach, pinning her in place. The wedding. Why it always slipped her mind that Kem was engaged, she could not say, but she wished she would cease forgetting, for every reminder of Lady Sophia was accompanied by a nauseating hollow feeling.

"Here, I got you this at the last stop." Oakley handed her the tied muslin parcel that had been forgotten on the seat next to him. "There is a bit of pork pie and some biscuits. Please eat something, Adelaide. You look very ill."

If stupidity were a disease, then she was not surprised she looked unwell. She was an idiot to have thought Kem's solicitude stemmed from anything more than his own perceptiveness, intelligence, and kindness. That she had not understood he was all those things until now, while also idiotic, was really neither here nor there. It was for Lady Sophia to admire his fine qualities, not her. She thanked Oakley and took the food, grateful that having something to chew on relieved her of the necessity of any more conversation.