But nothing could be as cold as the indifference in his gaze as he studied her now. She tried to ignore it. Tried not to search for more. To long for what could not be. Time, she reminded herself. It had taken a significant amount of time and hurt to create this distance between them. Closing the void would require every bit as much effort.
“That would be down to the frosty glare of Lord Abingdon, I expect,” Adrian quipped.
This new version of himself—the man he had become—spoke with far less frequency. Yet when he chose to use his voice, the result was always precise and cutting. A covert peek at her father in her peripheral vision gave credence to his assertion. Her father was indeed glowering at them from his position at another table, where he was halfheartedly listening to a guest.
The Duke of Northwich, who was seated at Adrian’s side, and who had stood with him at the wedding, spoke up. “One cannot account for the opinions of others. If he had any inkling of your mettle, he would be groveling at your feet.”
Thinking of her new husband’s mettle made Tilly’s spine stiffen. It seemed to her that Northwich was referring to Adrian’s time spent in prison. She wondered if he had shared more of what he had endured with his friend than he had deigned to tell her.
The suspicion he had rose within her and would not be contained. An unwelcome surge of jealousy accompanied it. Although Northwich traveled in mostly different social circles than Tilly, Pippa’s strong dislike of the duke had left Tilly believing he was not a particularly good or kind man. And yet, her every interaction with Northwich had suggested the opposite. She was grateful he had become a friend to Adrian, even if she did not know the particulars of how their friendship had developed.
“Fortunately, I do not require his approval,” Adrian said, his voice low to keep the other guests from overhearing their conversation. “I have married his daughter.”
Yes, he had.
How surreal it seemed. Almost a dream.
Once, marrying the man at her side had been all she desired. Her heart had ached to be his wife. For their love to become permanent. To no longer be a prisoner of fear and a loathsome marriage. Yet, nothing had worked out quite as she had once imagined. The differences between them seemed so very pronounced.
He had scarcely touched the food on his plate, she realized.
“You have not eaten,” she pointed out.
“Nor have you.”
So she had not. The enormity of the situation suddenly slammed upon her, in the fashion of a boulder rolling down a mountain. All the curious eyes upon them, judging, watching, waiting to spy the real reason the Duchess of Longleigh would marry a relatively unknown gentleman.
“I think I have had enough of this wedding breakfast,” she decided. “Shall we go?”
He nodded, and Tilly rose. The sooner she could be free of the formality of this setting, the better. The tumult of the morning was too much for her, and she longed to return to Robby. To settle into her favorite sitting room at Haddon House and shield herself from scrutiny.
“You are certain you wish to leave already?” Pippa asked quietly, standing as well, her expression a mix of concern and confusion.
“Yes.” Although leaving would mean being alone with Adrian, truly alone, she suddenly longed for just that, regardless of what it would bring.
Pippa nodded. “Then that is what you shall do.”
“Mrs. Shaw and I will remain,” the Duke of Northwich, who had also risen to his feet, said, his dark gaze flicking briefly over Pippa.
The tension between the two of them was almost palpable.
Pippa bristled. “I will decide for myself where and if I shall stay, Your Grace.”
“To do so would blunt speculation for our friends,” came the duke’s mild reply,sotto voce.
Pippa’s chin went up. “If you are implying I do not care enough for my friend, you may wish to take a look at the actions of your past.”
The duke flashed a chilly smile. “Believe me, Mrs. Shaw, I have.”
Tilly wondered once more at what had happened between Northwich and Pippa. Her friend had been reluctant to offer much information on the subject, other than saying it had something to do with a rivalry between Mr. Shaw and the duke, who had once been friends.
“Come.” Adrian offered Tilly his arm, and she settled her hand in the crook of his elbow.
She was hesitant to leave her friend, but she also knew she needed to go. And as he led her from the crush of the chamber, Tilly could not help recalling when they had walked arm in arm like this before.
At Coddington Hall, when she had given him a tour. How innocent that day had been, and how far they had come since that long-ago day. The road to where they currently found themselves had been treacherous indeed.
They had scarcely reached the hall when her father’s booming demand echoed from behind them. “Where do you think you are going?”
