Chapter 17

CHAPTER17

Bathed in the soft glow of the torches that had been lit in the ballroom courtyard—an opulent, quiet square of white marble and blossom trees—Nancy patiently awaited the arrival of the Dowager Duchess, while Adam paced back and forth beneath the darkening dusk. He knew his mother was going to be furious with him, even after he informed her of his marriage.

She has always wanted to see me wed, has spent years arranging fruitless potential matches, and I did it all without so much as a letter.

“You should sit,” Nancy said. “Your marching is beginning to make me feel queasy.”

Adam halted for a moment, plucking one of the blossom petals from a nearby tree, but the impulse to pace soon returned, and he could not resist it. More and more, he was beginning to wish he had locked the door to his study and stayed there until morning, when his mind would be clearer.

At that moment, the door to the courtyard opened, and Mrs. Holloway led Adam’s mother, Dorothea, out across the marble to one of the wicker peacock chairs.

Adam watched, his heart in his throat, as his mother shuffled across the slippery floor, clinging tightly to Mrs. Holloway’s arm. Every time he went away, he forgot just how weak and fragile his mother had become. And every time he returned, it shocked him tenfold to see the skeleton draped in fine fabrics, devoid of any health or color or vitality.

Even Nancy looked alarmed, glancing at Adam as if to say, “Should she be out here? Is she well enough?”

He cast her a discreet nod to reassure her.

“Good evening to you, Mother,” he said, moving to take Dorothea from Mrs. Holloway’s care. “You seem sprightly today. Once we have finished our tea, perhaps we should have a country dance in the ballroom?”

“Either you are teasing, or you have lost your sight while you have been away,” Dorothea replied in her breathy, rasping voice. “I could not dance, even if I wanted to.”

He helped her to the chair beside Nancy’s. “I could gather you up in my arms and dance withyou if you prefer.”

“Silly boy,” Dorothea said with a croaky laugh. “Although, I have dreamed of the ballroom a great deal in your absence. Is it not ridiculous that I once thought I would hold the finest ball of every Season in that room, certain that I would be celebrated for my efforts?”

Adam crouched down in front of her, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. “It is not ridiculous, Mother. You did not know.” He resisted the urge to look over at Nancy, hoping she would not become too curious about what went unspoken between mother and son. “And it might yet become a place of celebration, for I have good news for you.”

“If it has anything to do with one of your… acquaintances being with child, I do not wish to hear of it, and I shall certainly not celebrate it,” Dorothea muttered, her bony hands clawing at the edges of the blanket, attempting to wrap it tighter around herself. “You should have married that lovely Hewson girl when you were told to.”

Adam drew in a steadying breath. “That was almost half a lifetime ago.”

“Not half my lifetime,” she pointed out.

He dropped his chin to his chest, realizing this would be more difficult than he had anticipated. But before he could say another word, Nancy’s voice drifted through the still night air.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” she said, rising from her chair and curtseying to Dorothea.

Dorothea squinted at Nancy. “And who might you be?”

“I am your son’s wife,” Nancy replied.

Adam’s heart did something unusual as those words sank into his consciousness. It leaped a little, like a fish jumping out of the water of a mirror-still pond, causing everything to ripple.

“Pardon?” Dorothea’s thin eyebrows rose up.

“We were married yesterday at St. Andrew’s Church, close to my family’s residence, Tillington House,” Nancy continued as Adam held his breath, uncertain of how much she intended to tell of the truth. “The arrangement was struck between my father, the Marquess of Tillington, and your son after he rescued me from a terrible wretch at Lord Bainton’s ball. I am very grateful to him for saving me, and for vowing to spend the rest of his life with me. It was… unexpected, but I am glad of it.”

To Adam’s surprise, Nancy came to his side and slipped her arm through his, putting on a display of unity. All the while, Dorothea observed the pair as if observing a foreign ritual that her eyes could not comprehend.

Dorothea squinted harder. “Come closer. I cannot see you properly in this dim light.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Nancy said, dragging Adam with her as she took a step forward.

Though Adam was not looking at his mother, he knew the exact moment that Dorothea had seen Nancy properly, for he heard the soft gasp slip from her mouth. It was the same reaction that he knew he might have had if he had met Nancy in a more traditional fashion—catching a glimpse of her across a crowded ballroom, seeing her in Hyde Park on a Sunday afternoon, admiring her from afar, from the other end of a dinner table. Any other way but the way they had met.

“You are… my son’s wife?” Dorothea mumbled. “But you are so beautiful!”

Nancy bowed her head. “You are too kind, Your Grace.”

“Oh, goodness!” Dorothea clamped a hand over her mouth. “Forget whatever I said about acquaintances being with child. I am not well, dear girl, and I did not mean it. My son is a righteous gentleman. I mistook him for… for a… for a brother of mine, long dead now, who was rather lascivious. But not my son, I assure you.”

Nancy smiled, though she tried to conceal it. “I am aware of the awful rumors about your son, Your Grace, and I know that not a word of it is true. A gentleman of such ill repute would not attempt to rescue a young lady like me if he was what they say he is. So, I have chosen to trust in him and respect him for what I know him to be.”

“Quite right!” Dorothea relaxed in her chair, breathing more easily.

Oh, Mother.

Adam wanted to shake his head at her gullibility or laugh at the ingenuity of his wife, but he could not ruin the moment. Not when Nancy was slowly wriggling him free of the hook he might otherwise be on.

“And you say you got married yesterday?” Dorothea asked, shooting Adam a glare.

“Yes, Mother,” he replied. “It was a small ceremony, and I did not want to bother you with such a journey. Instead, I thought you might like the surprise of meeting her after the wedding.”

Dorothea sniffed. “It is not an unpleasant surprise.” Her brow furrowed. “But why were you married so quickly? You did not inform me of any courtship, unless I have forgotten it?” Her gaze drifted toward Nancy’s stomach, her eyes pinched in suspicion.

“The fellow that your son saved me from is not a nice man,” Nancy explained without hesitation as if she had been practicing the story. “He threatened to spread vicious lies about me unless I agreed to marry him, which is when Adam stepped in. However, nothing could prevent those vicious lies from being written in the scandal sheets. The marriage had to be performed in haste, to spare me from any unwarranted scrutiny.”

Dorothea tucked her chin into the top of the blanket, nodding slowly. “If I still had some vitality in my old bones, I would ask for the address of this unpleasant fellow and give him a stern scolding.”

No, Mother, you would not.

Adam held his tongue, knowing that his mother’s illness made her say things that were not true. Indeed, though the sickness had weakened her body, it had somehow made her mind and resolve stronger, too many years too late to be of any use to him.

“Oh, he has been dealt with,” Nancy assured.

Dorothea managed a smile—the first Adam had seen in years. “I am pleased to hear it.” She paused. “Did you tell me your name? I cannot remember.”

“Nancy.”

Dorothea’s smile widened. “Such a pretty name. I knew a Nancy once. She was a lady’s maid of mine. A favorite for a long time, until she—” Her face scrunched. “She was… um… sent away from Stapleton Court, though I cannot remember why. I adored her. My boy, can you remember why?”

“She burned Father’s tailcoat with the iron,” Adam said stiffly.

He hated thinking about those days almost as much as he hated talking about them.

Dorothea’s expression darkened. “Ah, yes. I remember now.” She shook her head as if to rid herself of the terrible memory. “But you shall find no cruelty here, Nancy. Have you settled in well? Is everything to your liking?” She reached for Nancy’s hand, and Nancy gave it willingly.

“I have not even seen my bedchamber yet,” Nancy admitted, with a pointed smile at Adam. “But everything I have seen, I have admired. The gardens are so very beautiful, and the ballroom is… I have no words to describe how remarkable it is. I can understand why you wanted to hold tremendous gatherings.”

Dorothea sniffed. “Wanted to. I was not permitted.”

“No?” Nancy frowned.

“You will be more fortunate than me,” Dorothea said, gripping Nancy’s hand tighter. “You will be happy here, I am sure of it. I can sense that you are the sort of lady who will bring such life back to these tiresome halls. You will enjoy everything I could not. Yes, that is my hope for you, Nancy. I hope that you will be gloriously happy here, living in peace and harmony with your husband in a way that I was not allowed to.”

Adam gulped. “Mother, do not scare the poor girl.”

“Why should she be scared?” Dorothea shot back. “She is not married to a brute.”

Nancy’s eyes widened, her expression startled.

“Mother, that is enough,” Adam said softly, not daring to fix his attention on his wife.

He did not want to see even a hint of pity in her eyes, for if he did, the ripples she had already begun to cause inside him would transform into a flood, washing away the sturdy foundations of strength that he had forced himself to build brick by painful brick.

Dorothea pursed her lips. “Apologies, Nancy. I do not know what I am saying most of the time. Forgive me. My son is quite right, this is not the time for dwelling on the past, but for looking toward the future.” She relaxed her grip on Nancy’s hand. “You are welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Nancy murmured.

“As for you, my boy,” Dorothea continued, eyeing Adam closely, “I trust you will give your wife the loyalty and affection that she deserves. That every wife deserves. Cherish her, Adam. Love her. Do not forsake her and do not hurt her, for if you do…”

If I do, I will be just like him?

Adam lowered his gaze, staring at the dark veins that meandered through the white marble. Ingrained. And he had to wonder if the same was true about him.