He moved closer, the faint lamplight catching the lines of his face. He reached out, his hand hovering near her arm.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” his voice softened. “You don’t have to be. You are protected.”
She met his eyes then, saw the worry there, the anger he was trying to contain, and something else that frightened her more than either. She wanted to lean into him, to let him shield her from the world outside the walls of that house, but she didn’t dare.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.
“Then I will see you safely home,” Winston insisted, putting his arms around her shoulders.
They stood close enough that she could feel the heat of him, his breath steady while hers faltered. His strong hands rested on her back, and his closeness warmed her. She allowed her arms to slip around his waist, holding him close, resting her cheek against his chest.
“Winston…” she began.
Then the door behind them opened. A liveried footman looked out at them.
“Your Grace. Her Grace the Dowager Duchess, your mother, has collapsed.”
Winston cursed under his breath. He took a firm hold of Adeline’s hand, leaned heavily upon her, and headed for the door without a word. Adeline supported him, only just now remembering that his injuries must still be giving him issues. Her heart quickened with worry for her friend and mistress. Reentering the main ballroom, she forgot the reason she had left in such a hurry. Instead, she looked only for Cordelia.
The Dowager Duchess sat on a chair, looking wan. Louisa furiously fanned her while the Duchess of Kent herself vigorously rubbed the back of Cordelia’s hands. Adeline relaxed her hold on Winston, leaving him to stand on his own without her aid, then fell to her knees in front of the older woman.
“Your Grace? Are you well?” she asked, anxiously.
“Do not fret, little storm bird. Too many people. Too much heat and wine without food. My own foolish fault. I am feeling much better.”
Winston hovered, glowering at the world.
“You do not look much better, Mother. You look like a ghost. I think we should curtail the evening.”
“Nonsense!” Cordelia objected, trying to stand only to fall back, a hand going to her forehead.
“Send for our carriage at once,” Adeline ordered, catching a waiting servant’s eye.
Such was the snap in her voice that the man didn’t wait for confirmation from the Duke but nodded and took to his heels. Minutes passed before he returned to confirm the carriage awaited them outside. Cordelia revived and, grumbling but pale with Louisa beside her, made her way through the crowd towards the doors.
Winston shadowed the three women as they made their way outside. His pace was naturally slower than theirs, because of his smarting ribs, but he also lagged so that he could keep an eye on them. He chided himself for indulging in this frivolity.
She is getting too old for overcrowded assembly rooms. If she cannot show some common sense, then I must exercise it for her.
The thought occurred that it might be better if his mother stayed at Greyston for a while, even after Briarwood was restored. Cordelia and Adeline. It was a tempting idea that he stamped on immediately. Before he could exit the building, he felt a diffident touch upon his arm. He stopped, whirling to give whoever had dared put hands upon him a piece of his mind.
Two men stood there, one of them looking over Winston’s shoulder to where Adeline and Cordelia were getting into the carriage.
“Yes?” Winston snapped. “What is it?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace,” said a man with a plain face, well-made but simple clothes, and a timid manner. “My name is Mr. Pike of Bow Street. I have been trying to get an appointment with you for some time.”
“Now, is not the time, Pike,” Winston said, pulling his arm free and turning away, wincing at the pain the sudden movement caused him.
“This is Lord Harston, Your Grace.”
“Never heard of him,” Winstone said.
“But your daughter’s governess has,” Pike replied.
