Adeline gaped and almost stamped her foot.
“How dare you?” she exclaimed, then glanced about her and lowered her voice.
“How dare you, Your Grace,” Winston corrected.
He is trying to push me away. Trying to keep me outside his walls. I will gladly stay there. I never wanted to be close to him.
“Very well. I will go and be with my charge. I thank you for protecting me earlier,” Adeline said.
Chapter Eleven
The town of Greytonwick bustled in the warmth of late summer. Streets strung with bunting in preparation for the upcoming garden party. Hawkers cried their wares, the smell of fresh bread mingled with horse and dust, and ladies in pastel gowns hurried from shop to shop with lists and purses.
A week had passed since the village fete. A week in which Adeline had helped Cordelia trawlDebrett’sfor the names of eligible daughters that might be posited as future brides for Winston. A week in which Adeline had found herself looking for reasons with each not to put their name down on the list. She had shaken her head at her own silliness, reminding herself that jealousy was utterly ridiculous. Winston was a difficult man prone to temper and moods. And even if he were the paragon of gentlemen, he would not be within reach for her.
I am the employee of his mother and, temporarily, his employee. Besides, I am also lying about my identity.
The garden party was the next event on the social calendar and required hats, ribbons, gloves, and gowns to be purchased or made. A shopping trip to this end was now underway. Adeline kept close to Cordelia, parasol in one hand, Louisa’s shawl in the other, feeling both useful and conspicuous at once. Cordelia swept ahead in her irreverent way, pointing out window displays, pausing to greet acquaintances, and ignoring every carriage that clattered too close. Louisa skipped at their side, her excitement bubbling over into laughter. It felt like a family outing. That thought pierced Adeline more deeply than she wished.
For two years, I have played at being part of a family. Part of Cordelia’s family at Briarwood. Because it is something that I haven’t known for a long time.
The bell over the milliner’s door chimed sweetly as they entered. Inside, the air was thick with lavender sachets and the faintly dusty scent of muslin bolts. Hats lined every wall, some adorned with lace, others with silk flowers so extravagant they seemed plucked straight from a dream.
Louisa gasped and darted to a display, plucking up a bonnet trimmed with butter-yellow ribbons.
“Oh, grandmama! This one looks like sunshine!”
Cordelia chuckled, delighted.
“Try it, my darling. Though perhaps something with a touch less sunshine will do better for the party.”
The milliner bustled over and began fussing with Louisa’s curls, chattering about measurements, colors, fabrics and styles. Cordelia touched Adeline’s arm, drawing her toward a quieter corner where lace and ribbons were displayed.
“Stay with me a moment, my dear,” she murmured.
Adeline followed, already wary of that tone.
Cordelia lowered her voice. “What is your view of Winston?”
The name alone set Adeline’s heart hammering against her ribs. She bent her head quickly, as though the delicate rows of lace required all her concentration. Images intruded, nonetheless. Winston’s dark gaze, the stubborn set of his jaw, and the heated kiss they had shared in his study.
That kiss haunts me more with each passing night. It lingers in my dreams.
Her cheeks warmed. “He is… not an easy man,” she said carefully. “Abrasive when angry, quick to quarrel.”
She glanced warily at Cordelia who was listening intently and giving no clue as to her thoughts.
Cordelia does not respect sycophancy. She will not respond to anything but honesty.
“I do not believe his bite to be as bad as his bark,” Adeline continued. “I have seen him show compassion, and he is clearly devoted to Louisa.”
Cordelia’s eyes shone, a mother’s pride softening her expression.
“Laudable indeed. Most see only his temper, his walls. But you…”
She stopped, looking Adeline over in a way that made the heat in her face spread to her throat. Adeline’s pulse faltered.
She cannot mean…cannot consider me…No, it is impossible.
