“You seek to lecture me?” Winston demanded.
“Advise. As I have always done since we were at school together, remember?”
“I remember having to talk you out of trouble more often than you did for me,” Winston said.
“That is because I had no one to give me good advice, unlike you,” Oswald replied with a straight face.
Ordinarily, Oswald’s mischievous sense of humor would have had Winston laughing. But today his sour mood would not be dislodged.
That is why I accepted the invitation. Because I wanted to be drawn out of this dark mood.
His grip on the reins tightened until the leather creaked. He needed release, something to drown the burn of memory clawing at the edges of his mind. A beautiful face. Blonde with green eyes. Smiling. Happy. But then defiant and challenging.
When was the last time anyone dared to defy me?
The memory of Adeline’s blazing eyes was replaced by another face. One with dark, melancholy eyes and an accusing expression. Winston shook his head as though to dislodge the accusation and thereby escape the guilt.
“Let us race,” he barked, spurring his horse into a gallop before Oswald could reply.
Wind tore at his hair, stung his eyes. The pounding of hooves drowned thought, but not enough. For even as the land blurred,he saw her, the ghost who shadowed his every step. The scent of lilac clung to the air. Always there. Always accusing. He pushed harder, as though he might outrun her. He did not.
By the time they returned to Greystone, his temper was frayed, his body restless. He dismounted roughly, leaving Oswald to hand both mounts over to the stable hands, and strode into the house.
Music reached him first. A melody carried through the corridor, faint but sharp enough to cut straight into him. He froze, breath catching. That tune. He had not heard it in years.
I swore I would never hear it again.
Yet here it was, played with aching tenderness, as though she had been conjured back to life. Pain ripped through him, sudden and raw. He pushed into the music room.
“Stop,” he said harshly.
Adeline’s hands stilled on the keys. The room fell silent. Cordelia looked startled. Louisa frowned. Oswald, just catching up to Winston, arched a brow.
“It is too mournful a piece,” Winston said, his voice rougher than he intended. “Play something else.”
The silence stretched. Adeline’s eyes fixed on him, curiously, questioning, but she turned back to the keys. This time sheplayed a brighter melody, her voice lifting to join it. Clear, strong, threaded with warmth. The room transformed, Louisa clapped in delight, Cordelia smiled with pride, and even Oswald leaned forward, entranced.
Winston felt something inside his chest twist. Adeline was proving herself accomplished. That, in turn, proved her credentials to be a governess. That notion made him feel light inside because it meant that he would be seeing Adeline daily.
She is disrespectful and sets a bad example for Louisa. I do not want a woman like that around here.
She looked up from the pianoforte as she sang. Music flowed from her effortlessly. Their eyes met. Hers were light and bright. Her heart shone through them. His were dark, smoldering with tempered emotions. He saw the color bloom on her cheeks, saw her bite her lower lip in between verses. Cordelia looked from Adeline to Winston, but he had already looked away. When the song ended, Oswald stepped forward with his easy charm.
“Exquisite, Lady Adeline. You must allow me to accompany you sometime, perhaps I on the violin, you on the pianoforte? We would make a fine duet.”
Adeline laughed lightly, the color in her cheeks blooming once more. Something hot and ugly surged in Winston’s gut. He clenched his fists behind his back, forcing himself to be still and composed. But each flirtatious glance, each smile between them, struck him like a blow.
“Lady Adeline,” he said at last, too abruptly. All eyes turned to him. “I would speak with you. In my study.”
Her expression flickered, but she inclined her head. Winston did not wait. He strode from the music room and down the hallway to his study. By the time she arrived, he stood by the hearth, watching her. She closed the heavy oak door behind herself. Adeline’s face was still flushed from the music.
Perhaps from the flirtation, too?
He hated how easily the sight of her bright eyes unsettled him, undermined his previous certainty.
“Aside from having a bit of musical training, I am also versed in the works of the great poets and have been known to write a few lines myself,” Adeline said, as though assuming that this was an interview for the job.
She stood before him, calm and collected. Only the color in her cheeks told him that her own emotions might be as heightened as his.
