The previous night had been spent awake. The memory of her lips still burned on his. The feel of her nakedness, the taste of her, refused to allow him to find rest in temporary oblivion. Now he felt exhausted beyond measure. The motion of the carriage was soothing. The warmth within was a cocoon. He fell into a restless doze.
He walked along, through woods. The stillness of the misty morning was broken only by the sound of water. It lapped gently at the bank of the mere that lay deep within the trees. Winston knew this place. And he knew this fateful moment. He had relived it a thousand times.
“No! No! Not again. Please!” he cried, while knowing that his feet would carry him to the mere regardless.
He drew closer, the mist parting to show him the surface of the grey lake. To see the body of the woman floating face-down upon its mirrored surface. Her hair spread like a halo in the water. He fell to his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks.
“It's my fault. I should have known. I should have prevented it.”
Then he waded into the water. He always did. Every single time. Waded towards the still, dead body of his wife and dragged her back to the shore and turned her over. But this time, the face that stared back at him was not Sarah’s. It was Adeline’s.
“Adeline!” his voice was loud in the confines of the carriage.
Her name was on his lips as he woke. The carriage was still. With dreaming eyes, he looked out of the window, half-expecting a drowsy wood and chill mere. But the carriage stood before a three-story house on Pall Mall, bearing the sign, Harkers. He pushed a hand across his eyes, shaken, his body cold with sweat.
I thought myself haunted before. Am I now haunted by two women? One living and one dead.
Dreams had their ways of betraying the heart. Inside the club, he asked for seclusion, a private room where he might collect himself. The steward, bowing, informed him that a gentleman had been asking after him.
“A Mr. Pike, Your Grace. He left a card and said his business was most urgent.”
The steward offered a card which Winston did not even glance at before putting it into his pocket.
“If his business was urgent, he would still be here,” Winston growled.
Whoever Pike was, whatever his business, Winston cared nothing. He wanted only solitude. In a quiet smoking room onthe third floor, up under the eaves of the building, a decanter of brandy had been set out. One glass stood waiting on the tabletop. Winston sat with a sigh in a comfortable armchair before a small fire. He had not yet poured a drink when a knock came at the door. Oswald entered. He beamed genially.
“Winston! I was told you had taken a room. I hope I don't intrude upon anything important.”
Winston forced a smile, though inwardly he was groaning.
“I’m taking a moment’s respite after the journey. I have an appointment with my solicitor shortly.”
“Then I shall be brief.” Oswald leaned against the mantle, eyes alight with that peculiar mischief that Winston remembered too well. “Tell me, your governess, the lady I encountered at Greystone, who danced so prettily at the Farnsworth’s’ garden party, is she unattached?”
Every nerve in Winston’s body sharpened. He kept his face impassive.
“Miss Wilkinson? Why do you ask?”
“I have heard the most remarkable things about her beauty and her accomplishments. I believe she danced beautifully at the garden party, and from those in attendance her name seems the one most often mentioned. You know I am not a man to be easily captivated, Winston. But I remember her face. Twice we met atyour house, and it was enough. If she is free to be courted, I would like to try my chances.”
The instinct was primal. To bear his teeth, to forbid it. But he could not. Adeline was an employee. He could not court her. He should not have indulged his desires with her as much as he had. Nor could he forbid her any attention. It would be more revealing of Winston’s own feelings.
“She has no interest in courting,” Winston said, keeping his voice disinterested. “She is devoted to her position. Besides, she was jilted by some cad, and it has left its mark on her.”
Oswald chuckled.
“You cannot mean to say she is immune to admiration. That is all by the by. I am confident I can woo her, given half the chance. What I wanted from you is to know whether you object. Do you?”
Winston swallowed down the fury rising in his throat. “Not as such. But you will find her…difficult to win.”
Oswald gave him a long look, as though measuring him. “Where is she from, this paragon? Who are her people?”
“Her parents are dead,” Winston said shortly. “She is the daughter of the Viscount of Clifford-Edge.”
“Clifford-Edge?” Oswald frowned. “Never heard of him. Nor has anyone, I imagine. No matter, I shall consultDebrett’s. A lady likes a man who takes the trouble to know her family.”
Winston’s hand tightened around his glass. “As you will.”
