“Do come visit again,” Adam heard Persephone say to Hewitt. Before he had a chance to contradict her invitation, Hewitt was passing beneath the inner arch and on his way from Falstone.
Persephone looked up at Adam, her expression unreadable. “He can no longer see you.”
Adam raised an eyebrow in inquiry. What had that comment signified?
“You need not keep pretending that you enjoy standing beside me.” She turned and slowly, with almost tangible dignity, made her way through the enormous front doors of Falstone Castle.
Gone, it seemed, was the quaking figure who had hidden from wolves during the night. Adam appreciated her courage—he always applauded shows of spirit—but the stinging rebuke she’d served him along with it struck home with more force than he cared for.
“Should have tossed her off the bed with the first noise she made.” But he heard in his voice something he hadn’t heard in years: a threat that came across as completely hollow.
Chapter Fifteen
“Adam?” Dinner had been completely silent through the first three courses, and, with dessert all but finished, Persephone felt the tension acutely.
“Another complaint, Persephone?” Adam replied with deceptive calm. Persephone could hear the anger just below the surface. “I have refrained from standing anywhere near you all day.”
How had she allowed her tongue to get away with her? They’d reached something of an accord in the garden the day before, over his unexpected gift. Now he was on his guard again, borderline hostile and cynical.
“I am sorry for what I said.” Persephone hoped he heard the sincerity in her voice. “I really haven’t been myself these last few days.”
In the little more than a week since news of Evander had arrived, Persephone had been completely at loose ends. One moment, she felt calm and quite in control; the next, she was either weeping with unbearable sadness or angry or exhausted beyond all reason. It was unnerving. And, worst of all, she felt completely alone in her suffering.
Seeing Mr. Hewitt, who had been her one source of empathy throughout the horrific ordeal, depart had pushed her past her limit, and she’d spoken a thought she’d never intended to voice. She’d noticed Adam’s tendency to hover nearby when Mr. Hewitt was in the room. At first she’d allowed herself the flattering thought that Adam had developed a preference for her company, followed by the equally heady sensation that he might be a touch jealous. She’d soon noticed, however, that Adam’s attentions dwindled back to nonexistence when Mr. Hewitt was not nearby.
It hadn’t taken a great deal of thought to understand what actually lay behind the odd behavior. Adam intended to convince Mr. Hewitt that theirs was a happy marriage—one that would, no doubt, destroy his claim to the Kielder title. She’d been nothing but a puppet in Adam’s ongoing efforts to upset and belittle his cousin.
“Harry wrote today.” Adam spoke quite as if Persephone’s apology had never been uttered.
She lowered her eyes to her trifle. “I hope he is well.” She managed to squeeze past the sudden lump in her throat.
There she went again, emotions swinging like a pendulum. Adam had certainly been indifferent before. Why this particular moment of apathy should so undo her, Persephone could not say.
“He is remaining in Scotland for a week longer than anticipated,” Adam said.
“Harry must be enjoying his visit with his aunt and uncle.” Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. Trying to muster another bit of volume would surely reduce her to tears.
She had apologized, blast him! Couldn’t he have had the civility to acknowledge that?
Adam continued eating with as little discomfort as one could possibly have. He didn’t care at all. This was the man she’d been so certain only the day before was kind and shy underneath his harsh exterior? How had she been so blind, so gullible?
Oh, why had she ever left Shropshire? She could have been at home at that very moment with her family, with a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, surrounded by people who cared deeply for each other.
Persephone rose hastily to her feet, fighting back a flood of bitter, lonely tears. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice shaking. She ran in an unladylike manner from the room.
One of the first things she’d learned about the castle was how to get outside. While outside, she could orient herself far easier than when indoors. But orientation was the last thing on her mind as she fled the drain of Falstone Castle for the sanctuary of her garden. It was the only piece of Falstone she, albeit secretly, claimed for herself. That alcove of greenery had shared her deepest sorrows in the month she’d been the Duchess of Kielder. No human being could lay claim to such an involvement in her life during the short weeks she’d been at the castle.
She dropped onto the patch of earth directly in front of her bench, laid her arms across the stone seat, and dropped her head onto her arms.
“I just want to go home,” she cried. “I need my family.”
Quite as if she hadn’t wept more times than she cared to remember over the past week, Persephone sobbed as she sat there on the cold, damp ground.
Evander was far too young to be gone. He’d not even reached his fifteenth birthday. Someone ought to have been looking out for him. Someone ought to have been keeping him safe. He should have been at school with nothing more threatening than exams and teachers.
Persephone had married to secure his fortune. What good was that fortune now?
Her throat burned, her lungs shuddering with each breath. She could not regain control of her sobs.
