While each man in turn said with a bow, “Good day,” Owen’s tone was decidedly frosty.
Turning to Lady Jane, who had remained seated with her son, still sound asleep on her lap, Adelia said, “Thank you for your help. If you could write down that name for me, I will be on my way.”
“Are you positive you won’t let me accompany you?” the marchioness asked again.
Adelia glanced at Owen to see he was listening intently to every word. She swallowed.
“That is very k…kind of you, but I shall manage on my own.”Drats!Just seeing the man had caused her nerves to return.
“Very well. Perhaps another time you will come back and tell me how it went,” Lady Jane asked, sounding sincerely interested.
Adelia was firmly of the belief her ladyship would be kept well-informed on any news of the Smythes’ misfortune. Undoubtedly, Lord Westing had already received an earful from Owen.
“Darling one,” Lady Jane addressed Lord Westing, “I have Spencer on my lap. Will you please fetch me a sheet of paper from the drawer and a pen?”
“I live to serve you, my love,” he said good-naturedly, finding his way about his own drawing room with ease and presenting his wife with a sheet of paper.
Using the arm of her wingchair, the marchioness wrote upon the paper, folded it, and held it out to Adelia. “Tell him I sent you. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance or if you have need of my company.”
This woman was kindness personified, and Adelia wondered if she had missed out on many such paragons by her severe reticence. If they had remained alone, she would be nearly ready to confess her desire to be a novelist and ask Lady Jane to read one of her manuscripts. Perhaps another time, she would.
“Again, I thank you, my lady.” Adelia clutched the folded note in her hand. “Good day to you and Lord Westing.”
Her heart was pounding as she had to pass closely by Owen.
She could hardly meet his eyes. “Good day,” she muttered.
“I shall walk you out,” he declared, and before she could stop him, he was at her back and shutting the drawing room door behind them. When the butler appeared, Owen waved him away.
“Just a minute or two,” he ordered, and the man vanished from the foyer as quickly as he had come.
“I need my mantle,” she protested. Besides, they had nothing to say.
“What were you speaking to Lady Jane about?”
“That is not your business,” Adelia said, although she supposed if the marchioness told her husband, he would tell Owen. She might as well confess. “I needed help finding a lawyer.”
Owen frowned as Lady Jane had done.
“I simply recalled Lady Westing as being the type of p…person who would either know what I should do or have a s…suggestion as to whom I should see.”
He pursed his lips. “You have never stuttered when speaking with me.”
She blinked back tears.Did he think less of her?Squaring her shoulders, she reminded herself their association was over.
“It saddens me,” he confessed.
Adelia caught her breath. A thousand emotions whirled through her at his words and their ramifications, but there was no point in following such a twisted path.
When she said nothing more, Owen asked, “Did Lady Jane provide assistance?”
Adelia nodded and unfolded the paper to see a name written in a tidy script with the cursedJDwatermark below. Silently, she pointed it out to the viscount so he could understand its ubiquitous presence throughout the households of London.
His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “Are you going to the Inns of Court now?”
“Yes.” She tucked the paper into the small pocket in her side seam.
He grimaced, looking uncertain. “I would offer to accompany you, but…,” he trailed off. “Obviously, under the circumstances, we are hoping for different outcomes.”
