She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You should rest.”
“I will, once you promise you’ll stay where I can find you.”
The words were simple, almost teasing, but his gaze held her fast. She nodded.
“Good.”
He exhaled and sank back against the pillows.
“Then perhaps I’ll sleep again. The doctor said rest is the best cure, though I suspect he’s never tried it with cracked ribs.”
Adeline managed a small smile. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
He gave a faint nod, already drifting toward sleep. When his breathing deepened, she stood quietly watching the rise and fall of his chest. The house was still, the city beyond the window faintly alive with distant wheels and muffled voices.
She touched the edge of the sheet, smoothing a crease that wasn’t there. The guilt had eased, though not vanished. His pain was the cost of her fear, yet his forgiveness, his calm certainty, felt like a light breaking through the closed rooms of her past.
“You are part of this family, whether as Lady-In-Waiting or governess,” Cordelia whispered, “or in any other capacity. We will protect you.”
Adeline had almost forgotten the other woman’s presence. She was flustered for a moment, not knowing what to say, trying to relocate herself in the moment of the story that Cordelia was in. The Dowager Duchess had half-turned in her seat and was looking at Adeline with a peculiar expression. Inquisitive and…knowing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cordelia’s laughter drifted faintly through the open window as the carriage rattled away. Louisa’s voice rang brightly as a bell behind it. Adeline stood at the window until the sound disappeared into the London hubbub. Vauxhall Gardens would delight them both. She was relieved Louisa, had this distraction and felt responsible for jeopardizing the London trip.
It is so important to Louisa, even though it was a surprise trip. And because of my fear and my lies, we might have been returning to Greystone. She doesn’t know it, but that doesn’t matter. I do.
Despite that weighty knowledge, she was equally glad to remain behind. The townhouse garden was narrow but long. It was enclosed by high brick walls. Beyond them, London carried on, but within, there was calm, the rustle of leaf boughs and the scampering of darting squirrels. The quiet scent of early roses lingered everywhere, and a sparrow daintily shook the rain from its wings. Here, at least, no one could come upon her unannounced.
She turned when she heard the slow creak of the door. Winston stood in the doorway, leaning more heavily on his cane than he likely wished her to see. His color had returned, but his movements were careful, each breath measured.
“You shouldn’t be up without help,” she said, crossing to him.
“I am up because I mean to walk,” he replied. “The doctor said it would strengthen the ribs. Mother insisted she could assist me, but she’s half my size. And you are less than half her age. You are the practical choice.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It is,” he said with a faint smile. “You look like someone who doesn’t panic easily.”
Except I did, if you could but remember it. I panicked and almost got you killed.
“I am sorry that you are not able to experience Vauxhall Gardens, but I feel happier having you here to help,” Winston said.
He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Adeline found herself blushing, reading the hidden meaning of his words.
He remembers my fear from the moment we arrived in London. He knows what I have told him about my fiancé. My almost-the-truth. But almost is not the truth. It is still a lie.
The cane slipped as Winston put too much weight on it at precisely the wrong angle. Adeline moved quickly, sliding her hand beneath his arm to steady him.
“You are being very charitable to my cowardice,” Adeline said, bitterly.
Winston looked at her from much closer, his gaze intent and unbreakable.
“I would not call it cowardice. Your fear is real. Yet, you are here.”
“It is my duty.”
“And a coward would put their fear before duty.”
