And if she basked in that wondrous hug and held her sweet lad in her arms for longer than necessary, who could find fault with her? She was blessed to be his mother. Before she had ever met Adrian, all she had wanted was to be a mama. To look after and love a child. But Adrian had made her greedy. Had made her realize she could have more than a babe. That she could also love and be loved.
She wanted that back.
And she wantedhimback. She wanted the man who had stolen her heart with teasing smiles, with laughter and kisses. The man who had dazzled her in the summer sunshine, who had swept her away from her miserable existence with a touch, a look, an embrace.
With another fervent kiss to her son’s cheek, she turned to Adrian, proud of herself for maintaining her composure. “You will see him returned to his governess for his nap?”
He did not look pleased, though whether it was because of her premature departure from their apportioned family time, she could not say. His jaw remained tense, but he nodded. “Of course.”
“Very good,” she told him. “I shall see you tomorrow.”
His brows drew together. “Will you not be here to see the lad to bed tonight?”
She gave him her sweetest smile.
Touché, my love. I refuse to surrender in this chess match of ours.
“No,” was all she said, an echo of his earlier answer concerning dinner, and then she took her leave of the drawing room.
* * *
Adrian foundhimself at the Black Souls club opposite Northwich. Having consumed their dinner, they were now sipping brandy and staring glumly into their glasses as if the answers to all their problems resided therein. They did not, of course. Of all cures for the doldrums, spirits were by far the most popular and least effective.
Adrian tried to remind himself that he ought to be deuced grateful to find himself here. To befree. Dining well, and in a club as opulent and exclusive as this one, still came as a shock to him. There had been a time when he would have been unable to fathom being welcomed in such august company.Hell, six months ago, he had been a convict. A man with a number and no name, no voice. But his membership in the Black Souls was down to the sponsorship of Northwich and the egalitarian owner, Mr. Elijah Decker.
Even so, the excellent food and the sumptuous surroundings, rubbing elbows with lords and wealthy men…none of these things pleased him. Nor did they fill the void in his heart. Only one person could, and yet…
And yet.
He sighed, the moroseness which had infected him like a plague since he had risen to the evidence of his folly—his beautiful wife naked and soft and warm in his bed—increased with each passing moment. His earlier words to Tilly returned to him.Last night changed nothing.
What a stupid lie. Last night had changedeverything. Only, he was sure he should not allow it. He had come dangerously near to getting lost in the same silken web that had caught him in Derbyshire. And did not the spider make his web so he could catch the fly and have his dinner?
Yet how could she have feigned the tenderness? She swore she had not aided Longleigh in his despicable plans. Did he dare believe her? He had opened his heart to her once, and for that sin he had received his punishment. He had been condemned to prison, to silence, to nothingness.
But he had returned from that prison. He had returned to her, to their son. To a life that was everything he had ever wanted…
Her words of last night returned to him, and not for the first time. They had been haunting him all bloody day if he were honest.If you truly ever loved me as I loved you, then you would know I could never have betrayed you.
He had loved her. He loved her still. He loved her desperately.
“You have scarcely spoken a word all evening, old chum,” Northwich said at last, interrupting Adrian’s thoughts. “Even by your standards of perpetual silence, this has to be worthy of being recorded for perpetuity.”
The duke had a diabolical sense of humor, a sharp wit. At times, Adrian forgot about how deuced humorous his friend could be.
He raised his brandy glass in mock toast. “Forgive me. It was not my intention to make a bad dinner guest.”
Northwich flashed a wry grin. “Look at us. Two old men having dinner every evening in our club.”
Adrian winced. Some days, he felt ancient. As if he had lived two lifetimes instead of thirty years. “Are we so very old?”
“Antediluvian, I am sure of it.”
He blinked. Northwich was a duke, and whilst Adrian had been the bastard son of one, he had not been afforded an education befitting even a duke’s footman. “What the devil does that mean?”
“Before the Flood. Relics. Ancient. Antiquated. Little more than dust, really.” Northwich raised his glass in return. “Drink more. It shall all make sense, I swear it.”
Obligingly, Adrian took another draw from the spirits in his glass. But still, no answers were forthcoming. He was more confused than ever. A tangled mess of longing, love, doubt, and fear. He drank some more. And then some more.
