Adelaide flopped back against the seat and shut her eyes. “What do you want from me?” she asked. “If I’m such a disappointment, why push me to continue in Society? It’s like a tightrope with you. Not too much, not too little. I hardly know how to satisfy you.”
Opal glared at her but didn’t reply, and sank into one of her infamous silent treatments. Adelaide sighed, but in truth she welcomed the coldness. It was better than being railed at. Than being reminded of heartbreaks long past. Of wanton impulses that seemed to be reborn when she was around Northfield.
And perhaps that was the best reason of all to avoid him from now on.
Chapter Five
When Emma glided through the parlor door the next day, Adelaide couldn’t help but smile widely. The two women embraced and then took their places for tea, and for a moment it felt like nothing had changed between them.
Except that Emma’s pregnant belly and Adelaide’s wandering mind made it clear that a great deal had. Soon it seemed there was no avoiding that fact, for after a while Emma set her cup down and speared her with an appraising look.
“We’ve talked enough about me and my new life,” she said. “I want to talk aboutyou.”
Adelaide shifted. “What is there to talk about? While you went off and fell in love, I have been here in London, doing as I always do. I’m quite predictable, you know.”
Emma arched a delicate brow. “Are you? I don’t think you are. As long as I’ve known you, I have always suspected your still waters ran very deep, indeed.”
Adelaide held back a laugh. If only Emma knew the truth, she would be shocked. How many times had Adelaide thought to tell her about how she had turned to the theatre, about what had driven her there…even now she wanted to talk to her about Northfield, get her insider information about the man.
She did none of those things. “You are too adorable, my friend,” Adelaide insisted, though she kept her gaze away from Emma’s. “To think I might have secrets that I could keep from you.”
“I saw you dancing with Graham last night,” Emma said softly.
Graham. Adelaide stopped short at the use of his Christian name. It was safer to think of him as Northfield. Northfield was a title, a dukedom, it meant distance. Almost like he wasn’t…real. Graham was a person. A man. A man with full lips that tasted of sherry, with strong arms and with a brokenness that she couldn’t help but want to fix, even though it wasn’t her place in either of her double lives.
“Adelaide?”
Adelaide blinked, shrugging off her thoughts as best she could. “The room at large saw me dancing with Northfield,” she said. “What could I do when he asked? Refusing would have been so rude.”
Emma hesitated. “Do you know him?”
“No,” Adelaide said swiftly. “Not really at all. I mean, I’ve seen him. We always saw those men in that club that your husband lords over.”
Emma’s smile softened. “The 1797 Club,” she clarified. “A brotherhood of dukes with very bad fathers.”
Adelaide frowned. “Not much of a brotherhood considering what Crestwood did to Northfield.”
Emma stiffened, and Adelaide immediately wished she could snatch the words back. They felt too emotional, and they were her rushing to the defense of a man she had just claimed she knew nothing about.
She focused on refreshing their cups of tea. “Or so gossips say,” she added.
Emma shook her head. “It is so much more complicated than gossip says, I assure you. It’s an unfortunate situation, of course, and Graham is very much entitled to his feelings.”
“I should say so,” Adelaide grumbled, her mind turning once again to the desperation on his face when he’d asked her to dance the night before.
Emma arched a brow and continued, “But Meg and Simon are very sorry for the circumstances. They almost lost their chance at happiness in some bid to make up for what they did.”
Adelaide wrinkled her brow. Seeing them so happy the night before, it was hard to picture Northfield’s suffering keeping them up at night. But Emma seemed adamant and she had never been one to lie. It wasn’t in her nature.
“I’m sure I don’t know anything about it,” Adelaide said with a wave of her hand. “And I doubt I shall spent any time with Northfield again, so it is really none of my business.”
“Is that why you don’t like Meg?” Emma pressed.
Adelaide had taken a sip of tea and she nearly spit it out across the room. She wiped her mouth as she tried to regain some composure.
“Not like the Duchess of Crestwood?” she repeated. “Why in the world would you think that?”
Emma leaned in. “Because I know you, best friend of mine. I can see when you are false and when you are true. You were odd last night with her.” She shook her head. “Come to think of it, you’ve been odd a great deal lately. Even before I married. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
