Adelaide reached out and traced a small, pale scar on Graham’s ribcage near his back. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake as she stared at the mark that proved the pain he had confessed to her hours before.
She rose and quietly dressed herself as she continued to stare at the remarkable, wonderful man on the bed. The one she was lying to. She had to tell him the truth. That was clear.
Only she didn’t know how. He would be devastated when he realized the wallflower he thought nothing of was the one who had seduced his secrets from him. And what of the nights they’d spent together? He was a decent man, an honorable man. If he thought there was a chance she could be breeding, he might even force a marriage.
Her heart thrilled at that briefly, but she shoved it aside. She would never force him to marry her. So perhaps she could wait. Wait until after her courses came. Then she could tell him without hesitation there was no child.
And whatever consequences that came after, she would bear. He would hate her and she’d take that. She’d earned it, after all. And she’d still know that she’d had him, if only briefly.
If only because of a lie.
Chapter Twelve
Graham paced his bedroom, glancing occasionally at the rumpled bed where he’d awoken alone an hour ago. In his hand, he gripped a note from Lydia, left for him to find that morning. A simple line that said she wanted him to rest, that she would see him again soon.
Part of him was thrilled that she wasn’t just walking away after hearing the truth of him. But there was another part that felt…uneasy. Uneasy because thoughts of Adelaide continued to crowd his mind. How would she react if she knew he had given so much of himself, body and soul, to another woman?
He’d been faithful to Meg, who he hadn’t cared for beyond friendship. He wasn’t involved with Adelaide in any official capacity. He hadn’t even kissed her. And yet he felt he’d betrayed her with Lydia.
His mind spun. And he needed a friend. Tyndale had been called out of town. Ewan was packing up for his country estate—he meant to spend Christmas there, so he was going weeks and weeks early to prepare everything. An excuse, Graham knew, to escape the city he hated.
Still neither of them was available for him at present. And so that left James.
James had always been one of Graham’s closest friends. He and Simon had started out together, before the others. Before the club. Before their titles and their responsibilities. Their friendship had been damaged by everything that had happened in the summer, but he still wanted James’s opinion. His help.
Actually, itwasn’tJames he wished to speak to. It was Simon. Simon, who could see into the heart of an issue and speak plainly without being cruel.
Only Simon was…well, Graham still wasn’t ready to face him yet. So James it would be.
He’d have to tread carefully. James knew some of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his father, as had some of the others. But Graham had never told anyone the secret about his mother’s death.
Until Lydia.
He winced as he relived the previous night once more. Then he pushed the thoughts from his mind and moved to his door. He rang the bell there and waited less than patiently for the footman who answered the call.
“Your Grace?” the young man said between out of breath gasps from jogging to respond.
“Tell Walters to be ready, as I’m penning a missive to the Duke of Abernathe that I’ll need to be delivered as soon as possible,” he said. “And let Rogers know I likely will be dining with Abernathe and the duchess tonight, so there should be no special preparations made for supper.”
“Yes, sir,” the servant said. “I’ll return shortly to retrieve your message.”
Graham acknowledged his words with a nod and then closed the door. It was rude to invite oneself to supper, even to a friend’s. But he needed to see James. And after they ate, he intended to explain everything going on in his life.
Maybe he could sort it out for himself even as he tried to explain it.
Adelaide paced the parlor, waiting for her aunt to join her for their usual afternoon tea. Normally she would run lines while she waited, but her mind was not on that. No, she couldn’t stop thinking about Graham. What they’d shared, what he’d told her, what she, herself was withholding from him.
She felt horrible. But she couldn’t veer from her course. She would wait another week, wait until her courses came, then she would reveal herself and let the consequences come.
“Oh God, I hope I can do it,” she whispered as she stopped to stare out the window to the street below. A goodly part of her wanted to jump out and just run.
But that wasn’t possible. Not for a woman like her. To do that would be to give up Adelaide forever. And there was more Adelaide in her than Lydia. She wasn’t brave enough to surrender to the character she’d created in an act of desperation.
She heard the door behind her shut and turned. Her aunt was standing at the barrier now, arms folded and her thin, wrinkled face lined with…anger.
Adelaide shoved the rest of her thoughts of Graham aside and readied herself for the worst. After all, she knew that look so very well.
“Aunt Opal,” she said, forcing her tone to be light as she carefully edged toward the sideboard where the tea was ready. “Right on time, as always. May I pour you some tea? And Mrs. Bligh has prepared your very favorite cakes, I see. I know you’ll want one of those.”
