“You think I lied to my friend to spare him rejection?” Winston asked with a sardonic smile.
“You are presumptuous to assume he would have been rejected. Unless you have a reason that I should not accompany him?” Adeline asked.
She was annoyed by Winston’s conduct and his prickly demeanor. She had no intention of accepting Lord Duskwood’s advances but it did no harm to prick Winston’s arrogant bubble.
“Your duties. As we have just been discussing,” Winston said.
“I agree. I should not be away from Louisa at the moment. But I must know everything that pertains to her. The better to help keep her safe.”
Winston looked at her for a long moment across the table. His body said that he would not bend, would not break. His face twisted, or so it seemed to Adeline. He wanted to speak but fought against his better judgment.
“I…” he began, then his face assumed the same rigid stillness as his posture. “I had meant to tell you,” he replied, “her sleepwalking unsettled me. I’d rather she not stay here another week. London will tire her, and there will be no energy for sleepwalking.”
She nodded. The words sounded reasonable, though she could feel the unspoken weight beneath them.
“Very well. Incidentally, had you waited, I might have refused him myself.”
He looked at her directly. “Would you have?”
The words had the sound of an exclamation, uttered before conscious thought could intervene.
“I might.”
“But you didn’t.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air felt too thin.
Adeline looked away.
“Anyway, your decision has made Louisa very happy. She’s been longing for London since the spring.”
“And you?”
“I’ll manage,” she said lightly, though her stomach tightened.
London. She had managed to forget how near her father’s house lay to the western fringes of the city. It had been years since she’d ventured there, but all it would take was one unlucky turn, one face from the past.
Winston was watching her. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine. It’s only the sun.”
He didn’t believe her, she could tell.
“We’ll keep a quiet house,” he said, insightfully. “You’ll have no cause for unease.”
His tone had softened, and there was the hint of a pause at the end of his sentence. As though he waited for her to speak, to explain. Adeline did not.
I cannot imagine that your reasons for secrecy are anything like mine. But it seems we will both hold onto our secrets for the time being.
Chapter Twenty
The city air thickened before they even reached it. Adeline felt it, the shift from open country to the slow, churning pulse of London long before the first roofs rose from the haze. Cordelia’s gloved hand rested lightly on her reticule.
“You’re very quiet,” she said.
Adeline smiled faintly. “Carriage roads never lend themselves to conversation.”
“Nonsense. You’ve endured worse journeys in far better spirits. What’s troubling you? You’ve been pale since we crossed Hounslow.”
