She realized in that instant just how true that statement was. Adam, according to the letter, had written to the Admiralty inquiring after her brothers. How had he known her uncle’s attempts were proving fruitless? What had inspired him to take up the effort? The First Lord of the Admiralty himself had become involved, all resulting in the precious piece of paper Persephone knew she would treasure always.
Adam was uncomfortable with gratitude; Persephone had seen that before. But she couldn’t possibly let such an enormous gesture go unrecognized. She felt almost giddy with relief and budding joy.
“This is by far the kindest thing any person has ever done for me.” Persephone knew she was gushing, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She knew Harry wouldn’t mind, would likely simply smile. He had, in fact, quite tactfully wandered to a far window, allowing her to offer her gratitude in relative privacy. “Thank you, Adam.” She ignored Adam’s immediate dismissive gesture. “Thank you so, so much.”
She felt like spinning, the way she had as a little girl when ending a game of bowls the winner. Then she would jump up and down and squeal in delight. And Papa would lift her into his arms and demand a kiss as recompense for his disappointment in being trounced so thoroughly.
In that moment, Persephone felt the same heady feeling of triumph, filled to overflowing with gratitude toward the gentleman who so often seemed not to care one ounce. He did. She knew he did. He cared enough to write a letter, and that letter had brought her the one she still held to her heart.
“Thank you,” she said once more, stepping to where he was and lightly kissing his left cheek, placing her hand on Adam’s chest for support.
She felt her face heat at the gesture of gratitude but did not regret her actions. She needed him to know that what he’d done went beyond the ordinary polite interest most people took in the suffering of others.
Relieved that he, at least, didn’t object to her offering, Persephone smiled a little shyly and stepped away, determined to run all the way to her rooms and devour Linus’s letter.
She didn’t manage a single step. Adam reached for her—something he’d never done before—and with a look of intense determination, he pulled her back to her previous position, hand pressed to his chest.
He kissed her. Not on the cheek, not a friendly greeting, but a kiss unlike any she had experienced before, made even more remarkable by the fact that it was entirely unexpected.
Persephone felt certain that, even outside in the dead of night during the winter, if Adam were to kiss her that way again, she wouldn’t feel a hint of cold. It was warm and comforting and unsettling.
As abruptly as he’d pulled her to him, Adam released her, stepping back. He looked shocked, even confused.
“You do that very well,” Persephone heard herself whisper. Then, mortified that she’d spoken the thought out loud, she stepped further away from him. “I . . . um . . . I’ll just go . . . read my letter.”
“That would be a good idea.” Adam sounded oddly distracted.
Persephone didn’t need to be told twice. She stepped from the sitting room, head spinning, heart hammering.
Suddenly Persephone understood why her dear friend Harriet Upton had allowed their lifelong friend George Sanford to kiss her in the apple orchard three years earlier. And, she thought as the heat spread through her cheeks, it was no wonder Harriet had married him a few short months later. If George had kissed Harriet the way Adam had kissed Persephone, it was only a wonder that Harriet had had the ability to speak clearly enough to accept his proposal.
* * *
Adam dropped into his chair the instant Persephone left the sitting room. What the devil was wrong with him? He’d just kissed her. And for no particular reason, except that he’d wanted to. He couldn’t even explain to himselfwhyhe’d wanted to.
Yes, he could. Because she’d kissed him. No one had ever kissed him, except Nurse Robbie when he was a little boy. But why had Persephone’s gesture inspired him to return the offering? He didn’t like not knowing why he’d done something. If he didn’t understand it, he might do it again.
“I just kissed Persephone,” Adam muttered to himself, too confused to say much else.
“I noticed.”
Adam gave Harry a disapproving look. “You were supposed to be politely looking elsewhere.” Why was it Harry always seemed to be witness to Adam’s most distressing moments?
“I think Persephone noticed as well.” Harry ignored Adam’s grumbled comment. “Which is a good thing, by the by. If she hadn’t even realized you were kissing her, one would begin to wonder about your technique.”
“Shu—”
“I know, ‘Shut up, Harry.’” He laughed.
Adam had been regretting the letter he’d sent to the Admiralty almost from the moment he’d posted it. If Persephone’s uncle had been able to provide her with even a modicum of information about her brothers, then he wouldn’t have been required to intervene. That, of course, didn’t explain why he’d taken the extra step of informing the Admiralty of his intention to purchase a lieutenancy for Linus when the time came. With Adam as his sponsor and the Admiralty behind him, Linus could make a fine career for himself in the navy, if he chose it.
It made sense. But Adam still couldn’t explain why he’d involved himself.
“Persephone seemed happy with her letter.” Harry cut into Adam’s thoughts.
Yes, Adam thought, biting down a smile. She had seemed very happy.
“Considering you handed it over to her, I am assuming it was not a request by a secret admirer for a clandestine meeting.”
