Winston’s scowl melted, as it always did with her. He allowed her to tug him toward the stairs, and their usual morning chatter filled the halls. She asked about the horses, whether she might ride her pony to the village fete next year. Beneath his answers, Winston weighed how to prepare her. He would not let Louisa’s heart be broken.
“You know, Louisa,” he began cautiously, “your grandmother’s house will not be under repair forever. When Briarwood is restored, Adeline will naturally return there with her. We shall have to find a new governess.”
Louisa stopped mid-step, blinking up at him. “Return? Why would she do that?”
“Because her duties lie with your grandmother, not here,” Winston said firmly. “She was never meant to stay forever.”
His daughter’s lips pressed into a stubborn line. “But she is my governess now.”
The words struck harder than they should have. Winston frowned.
“She is not your property, Louisa.”
The attachment is already there. It will be hard to break that fondness. Damn you, Mother, for putting Louisa in this position!
“She helps me with my lessons. She listens to me. She does not scold me when I ask about Mama,” Louisa’s voice trembled. “I don’t want her to go.”
Winston’s chest tightened. He should have anticipated this. He could not blame his mother for introducing them both to Adeline but himself for permitting the closeness. Perhaps Adeline had encouraged it. Women could be calculating, even when they smiled sweetly. Perhaps she had insinuated herself into Cordelia’s good graces, and now Louisa’s. The thought gave him grim satisfaction, a weapon against his own weakness: if he painted her motives black, then the pull she exerted might fade.
They reached the breakfast room, his mood dark once more. Cordelia and Adeline were already seated, the latter quiet and composed, as though yesterday’s music room incident had never happened. That, too, stoked his anger.
Why should I feel tormented when she seems so unaffected?
Cordelia, of course, would not let matters rest. “Winston,” she said brightly, “you must attend Lady Farnsworth’s garden party with us tomorrow. It will be the event of the week, if not the month.”
He set his jaw. “I think not.”
“Oh, but you must.” Cordelia’s tone sharpened. “You are a Duke. You cannot sulk at Greystone forever. Thetonmust be reminded that you exist, and that you are…available.”
Louisa clapped her hands. “Yes, Papa! You should go. It will be so much fun!”
“There is no need,” Winston muttered. “I have no taste for idle chatter and frivolities.”
Cordelia’s gaze hardened. “This is not about taste. It is about duty. You must be seen. You must be married again. You must provide an heir. If the ladies of thetondo not know that you are eligible then you will never be married.”
The words landed like blows. Winston’s hand tightened around his fork. He could not argue against duty. Not when she framed it thus. So, he lashed out instead. His eyes fixed on Adeline.
“What do you think, Miss Wilkinson? Shall I parade myself like a prize bull for Society’s approval?”
Adeline’s cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady.
“I think it is highly appropriate for a Duke to attend a social engagement. And it would be good for Louisa to observe how proper ladies and gentlemen conduct themselves.”
Her answer, reasonable though it was, stung. Winston’s lip curled.
“And do you intend to invite yourself, then? To instruct her personally?”
Her blush deepened. “It is not my place.”
“It is precisely your place,” Cordelia cut in. “Adeline is my Lady-in-Waiting. Naturally, she will accompany me.”
Winston scoffed. “What nonsense. A governess at a Society party?”
Cordelia rolled her eyes skyward. “You are intolerable. Adeline attends as my companion, not as yours. Kindly remember the distinction.”
Adeline had gone very still, her gaze lowered to her plate. Winston felt a pang.
Did I hurt her? Good!
