“No!” Adeline heard herself exclaim, then in a calmer tone, “I would not deprive Louisa of her first glimpse of Hyde Park. I remember my own. It is a magical experience for the young.”
“You came here with your parents?” Winston asked.
“My mother, yes,” Adeline replied without thinking.
“Not your father?”
Adeline shuddered, clutched the shawl tighter, hoping he would take it for a chill. But the day was warm and the facade flimsy.
“I quite understand,” Winston said with calm authority.
It was enough to make Adeline stop.
How can he understand? What does he think he knows?
“What do you understand?” she asked, trying to keep the edge from her voice.
It was the strain of the situation. It was fraying her concentration, dulling her wits. She should have smiled and thanked him for his consideration but instead she challenged his assertion, angry at the arrogance he showed that he could understand anything about her.
“I had a fractious relationship with my father,” he said, calmly.
“Indeed?”
“He was something of a martinet. A man who liked to control every aspect of his family’s life,” Winston said.
“It is a common trait among fathers, I believe,” Adeline said.
Winston’s eyebrow raised. “You think to equate me with my father. Or yours?”
“I would not dream of it. It was merely an observation,” Adeline said.
“I am nothing like him.” Winston’s response was a door slammed shut.
She avoided his gaze, focusing on Louisa’s chatter. But she could feel his eyes on her, assessing, questioning. They completed a circuit of the park and turned back toward the city, promising Louisa that the Park would not be going anywhere.
“We’ll go home,” Winston said. “Dinner will be early. Mother means to show you the theater listings.”
“The theater?” Adeline echoed faintly.
Louisa brightened again. “Yes! We’re to go tomorrow! Papa promised.”
Adeline smiled for her sake. “Then we must find a dress fit for an evening.”
Inside, her heart sank. A theater meant crowds, lights, strangers' eyes. Each new outing opened another door through which her past might step. When they returned to St. James’s Place, she waited until Winston and Louisa had gone inside before pausing on the step. The street was quiet except for the distant rattle of a hackney. She looked up and down once more, certain she felt a gaze upon her. There was no one. She entered quickly, the door closing like a seal behind her.
Later, as she stood at the window of her chamber looking out over the moon-bleached street, Adeline told herself she wouldgrow used to the city again. Fear, if ignored long enough, became background noise. Yet each sound outside, the shout of a driver, the clatter of hooves, a laugh too near the window, made her turn. And every turn brought the same question. How long before her father found her in this crowded city where, as Cordelia had said, one might vanish, or be discovered, entirely by chance. She drew the curtains against the night.
Chapter Twenty-One
The letter came late in the morning, just as Winston was descending the stairs to join the others for luncheon. A footman, a curious look of effrontery on his face, held out a single folded envelope on a silver tray. Winston picked it up without breaking stride and almost opened it until he saw the name on the envelope.
Lady Adeline.
Just that. No address and no family name. He stopped.
“Where did this come from?” he asked.
“Delivered by hand half an hour ago, Your Grace. The…man refused to give his name.”
