Chapter 14

Adam had a frustrating few days. Just like Nicholas, no one he spoke to could offer him any kind of new information. By all accounts, William had been acting perfectly normal before he had returned to the country. He had been outgoing, attending all the balls with his usual flamboyance.

Of course, there were the debts, but any man of fashion gambled, and from what Adam could tell, his brother had rarely visited with his man of business or spoken directly to the bank to ascertain the precise situation of his funds.

There was nothing anywhere—no letters, no odd conversations, no hints—to suggest what might have happened to his brother.

But something had happened. Adam just wasn't sure if it was at his brother's hand or someone else's. There were arguments for both, but he wasn't sure which was more compelling.

By the time he finally made his way back home, he thought longingly of the castle, even if it was filled with memories.

And, he could hardly deny to himself, the allure of a certain young lady there waiting for him. No doubt she would be furious that he had left after treating her in such a way. He would have to apologize, but perhaps they would find a way of making this marriage work.

Somehow.

He arrived after dark, when the lights glowed through the windows, a haven of warmth. His relief was palpable as he strode inside, waving away Keaton as he came to speak with him.

"Dining, is she?" he asked as he headed toward the dining room. "I think I'll join her."

A wave of feminine laughter greeted him, along with the unmistakable sound of a male guffaw. Adam froze, all the warmth draining from his body. The laughter was unlike any he had heard in his life.

"That's what I wanted to tell you, Your Grace," Keaton said apologetically, wringing his hands. "A gentleman arrived earlier today, traveled down from Glasgow. He said he was a friend of yours."

"A friend of mine," Adam repeated. "And what, pray, is this friend's name?"

"He said his name was Rickard Hansen."

Adam barely registered the surname as he absorbed the fact that this Rickard, whoever he was, had intruded on his wife under false pretenses. His fury was sudden and burning, and he barely heard the butler attempt to announce him as he stalked into the room.

The first thing he saw was Emmeline's face, the relief and affection that swept across it before she registered his anger. Defiance leaped into her eyes, and he relished it, the way she never cowed before him.

The same could not be said for the gentleman she had been entertaining. He was a handsome man, Adam could say that, and he had a certain suave charm that instantly infuriated Adam.

"So," he growled, eyes locked on the strange gentleman, who had turned a slightly gray color. "I gather you were not expecting me home so soon?"

Emmeline rose from her chair, hurrying across to him and taking his arm. "Adam," she said in a low, warning voice. "Don't cause a scene."

He glanced down at her slim hand and the slight flush on her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot her name, but that would, unfortunately, not be happening.

"Well?" he demanded, knowing his voice was harsh but unable to help himself. "What is happening?"

The man rose to his feet and executed a deep bow. "Your Grace. I am Rickard?—"

"I was informed as to who you say you are. But the question remains. What are you doing in my house, with my wife?"

"Adam," Emmeline hissed. "He's your friend."

Adam looked down at her face, saw she believed what she said. Or, at least, she had begun to believe it. Now, cracks were forming in her conviction.

Good.

"I have never seen this man before in my life," he said dismissively.

"Wait!" Rickard—if that was his real name—took a step forward. "You're right that I'm not your friend. I was acquainted with your late brother."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And what was his name?"

Rickard only hesitated for a fraction of a second. "William, Sir."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I would hardly come to your house and lie to your face." Even as he said it, he wiped his forehead with his cuff. "Forgive my intrusion. I came to speak with you and become better acquainted. Your brother said I was free to visit whenever I was in the country."

"And why are you in the country?"

"When I heard of your brother's death, I was sadly tied up in Scotland, but now I am on leave to travel, I wanted to come and pay my respect."

"You cannot be angry with him for that," Emmeline said, tugging at Adam's arm. "And if you object to him staying, then you may take that up with me."

Was it possible that this man could have turned her head? Adam had never had much cause to be jealous before, but there was no mistaking the emotion that spiraled through his body now.

He wanted this Rickard gone.

But Emmeline was giving him a reproachful look, and he knew that this would become yet another rift between them if he kicked Rickard out immediately.

"I see," he said curtly. "Then I suppose there is nothing more to say on the matter."

"Will you not join us for dinner?" Emmeline said, evidently eager to smooth over the entire business. "We have barely begun to eat."

"I would not like to intrude on this cozy party," Adam replied, but then relented at the brief flash of hurt that crossed Emmeline's face.

He truly could be a brute when he let his temper get the better of him. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles a fraction longer than was strictly proper.

"I am glad to see you again," he said, holding her gaze.

Her pupils dilated, her eyes darkening, and he thought of the last time he had been with her, the things they had done.

And oh, the things he wanted to do her now.

"Yes," she whispered, hardly knowing what she was saying. "I am glad you have returned, Adam."

Deciding he didn't care they weren't alone, he tipped her chin back and kissed her briefly before leaving the room.

* * *

Adam's kiss utterly disarmed Emmeline. Before he had arrived, she had a collection of things planned that she was going to say to him. Including how if in the future he intended to leave her alone, he would at least grant her the opportunity to visit her family.

Instead, he had returned angry, had denied that Rickard was his friend, and he had kissed her.

He had kissed her.

Despite his clear anger, it had not been an angry kiss the way their kisses previously had been. Of course, she suspected it was also a show of possessiveness. But there had been something surprisingly tender about it.

As though he truly meant what he had said about being glad to see her again.

As though he hadn't fled the house after their solo moment of intimacy.

He was a mystery to her, and she was utterly clueless about how to interpret his actions.

"Well," Rickard said after a moment in which she composed herself and sat back down. "That was the Duke."

"You said you were his friend."

"The prior Duke's friend." He looked genuinely pained. "I was sorry to hear about his death."

"Yes, I think it came as a shock to my husband." As any untimely death in the family would. "He isn't always so rude, you know."

"He seemed quite forbidding."

Emmeline laughed. "Yes, I thought so at first. But really, there is nothing so very scary about him. I think his reputation is far more fearsome than he is, but don't tell him I said that."

Rickard's face split into that habitual lopsided grin. "I would never dare. I was half afraid he would challenge me to a duel."

"Leave him to me," Emmeline said grimly. "But he was in the Navy, you know, so probably a crack shot. Never accept a duel."

"I have no wish to die," Rickard said, "no matter how it may appear by coming here."

Unable to resist, Emmeline laughed. "He truly isn't as scary as you think!"

"He could crush me, but with you as my defender, I feel perfectly safe."

She laughed again, and they finished their meal in companionable silence. When at last she went into the drawing room, Adam joined them, and it looked as though he was making an effort to be friendlier toward the man who claimed to be his brother's friend.

This was not the easy, charming man she had seen when she had invited the villagers over to dinner, but that was probably due to the situation he had walked in on.

Over the course of the evening, she found herself watching him, making note of the strength of his jaw and the striking blue of his eyes. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever met, and when he smiled, although he did so infrequently, she felt her heart race. Warmth spread through her body.

It was a rather ridiculous reaction to have to one smile, but because his face changed so much and yet he smiled so little, unlike Rickard, who gave nervous smiles every other minute, they felt more special, somehow.

Emmeline couldn't help but notice the only smiles he gave were in her direction.

Later that night, when she was making her way up to her room, a candle in her hand, she saw the hulking figure of her husband outside her door.

"Adam," she said, looking into his shadowed face. "What brings you here?"

"What possessed you to invite him into my house?" he asked, his voice low. His fingers found her chin and tipped her face up to his.

"Our home," she corrected him.

"I wasn't there to give permission. Do you think I would find it acceptable for you to be associating with strange men in my absence?"

"Perhaps then, husband, you should not be absent so often," she said, her tone biting. "Did you think I would be content in this house by myself? Did you think I would revel in your absence?"

"Yes," he said simply. His eyes searched hers in the gloom. "Don't you dislike me?"

"I dislike being alone. Something you have forced me to become well acquainted with over the time we've been married. Is this to be our life together? Is this what you expect from me? Contentment in the face of abandonment?"

"Emmeline." His hands trailed down her arms until he held both her hands, looking as though he wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. "If you were discontented, I want you to tell me."

"Oh, because thus far expressing my discontent has made you change your behavior." She rolled her eyes.

"You mentioned many times how ill-suited we are. I thought?—"

"That was so I could go to London, not so you could abandon me in this house."

"I would never abandon you. My brother…" He took a deep breath. "I've been investigating."

"Then take me with you. Let me help." She squeezed his hands, excited to share her theory. "I thought perhaps if his body was missing, he could have come to harm in one of the hidden passageways in the east wing. If I found one, surely there must be more. Do you think he could be hidden away in one of them?"

Adam shook his head slowly. "I admire your commitment, but?—"

"Are you certain you know where they all are? There might be more."

"Emmeline! Enough. If my brother was in the castle, I would know."

She withdrew her hands from his, feeling oddly slighted, her heart constricting. So this was how things would be between them. He would lay down the law and expect her to comply.

"I've looked," he said, taking a step toward her and stopping, as though he doubted his ability to move—or perhaps he felt as though he should not. "Believe me, Emmeline. I have spent hours and days looking in every nook and cranny, searching through documents and exploring the castle myself. There is nothing left unturned here. But"—he caught her chin, tilting her face up so she looked at him again—"I am in awe of your dedication to uncovering the truth even though William wasn't your brother."

Emmeline wasn't entirely sure when things had begun to shift for her, or when she had started giving any consideration to his feelings, but she said, "It is clearly important to you."

"It is," he said. "And I am glad to have you by my side."

* * *

After Nicholas visited, as was his wont, he met with Adam privately to confirm that the man staying in their house, who called himself Rickard, had not been a friend of William's.

"At least, none whom I met," he said seriously, "and I won't claim to have met all of William's acquaintances, but I do believe I knew most of them, and he had no friends in Scotland that I know of, and certainly none by the name of Rickard."

Adam knew how close Nicholas and William had remained throughout their adult years. He believed that if Nicholas had not come across one of William's friends, it was fair to say that man was not a friend of any significance.

Which went against everything the man was saying.

Things came to a head, however, when Adam and Emmeline received an invitation to a ball. Lady Rochester, one of the ton's leading dowagers, was holding what Emmeline informed him would be the ball of the Season—or what remained of the Season.

"It's a mark of great honor that we were invited," Emmeline said at the breakfast table, running her fingers over the thick invitation card. "And to think she sent a personal letter along with it."

"No," Adam said shortly, scanning the newspaper as he did every day in case some news emerged about his brother's whereabouts. "I have no intention of attending."

He could think of nothing worse. People in Society would expect him to smile and be merry, to dance and behave as they all did, but he felt as though there was a collar around his neck, holding him down and preventing him from smiling with gay abandon. His brother was dead. He was barely out of official mourning. It would take more than a single party to restore a sense of overwhelming joy.

Emmeline laid the letter down. "What do you mean?"

"I have no great liking of balls."

"And what about me?" she demanded, her cheeks reddening with ire. "What about my preferences? I love to dance. And I would not dream of snubbing Lady Rochester. Think, Adam! If she thinks I slighted her, I shall find few other friends in London."

"You overestimate her reach."

"I do not! Pray, what would you know of Society when you have not been living in it until recently?"

He snapped his jaw shut. "I am a duke, Emmeline. Doors will open wherever I go, and as my wife, you will find they are open for you also."

"And that is enough for you? To walk through life respected because of your title and nothing else?"

His eyes narrowed. If she was hoping he would somehow turn into someone more like his brother, she would be mistaken, and indeed disappointed.

"I still have many affairs to put in order. I have no time for a ball." Even as he said the words, however, he felt her disappointment.

"No time for a ball," she repeated flatly. "You have time to take a single evening to fulfill a social engagement?"

"I have a proposal," Rickard said, and Adam knew instinctively where this was going. "Why don't I accompany you, Your Grace? That way, the Duke can remain home, and you can attend the ball to which you've been invited."

Emmeline turned her smile on Rickard, and Adam felt as though his skin was too tight for his body.

"Does this truly mean that much to you?" he asked her, hearing the curtness in his voice and feeling the jealousy rise in him again.

Until now, he had never been a jealous man.

Then again, there had never before been anything in his life that he feared losing. Emmeline was his in the eyes of the law, but he knew he did not own her. And as much as he despised dancing, much as he hated being in public and the way people looked at him, risking Emmeline over it was not worth it.

"I've told you yes," she said. "And if you have no intention of attending with me, I will go with Rickard."

The other man gave him a quick smile. "I would keep her safe," he promised. "You have nothing to fear from me."

Nothing but the man's infernal laughter, which appeared to be on tap. "No need," Adam said, his voice a low growl. "If my wife wishes to attend a ball, then a ball she will attend."