She had pulled up her hair that day, something most girls wouldn’t have done for several more years. As she had stared at her reflection, Persephone remembered being startled by the starkness in her expression, the hurt, the fear, the uncertainty.
“Are you well?” Adam whispered to her, obviously entirely confused.
Persephone could only stare back at him. She knew that look in his eyes. Had it always been there? How could she have missed something so familiar?
What happened to you?she silently asked.
“Perhaps the cold’s too much for ’er,” the man Persephone had all but forgotten suggested. “’Tis bitter out today.”
“You may be right, Jeb.” Adam nodded. He seemed to smile a little, almost encouragingly, at her. “I had come back with the intention of walking Her Grace to the castle.”
“Did you really?” Persephone asked quietly, still studying those eyes she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly looked into before.
“My mother taught me a few manners before she disappeared.” Adam shrugged, holding out his arm to her.
A momentary intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. Persephone slipped her arm through his, her thoughts spinning dizzyingly.Disappeared?Persephone had seen Adam’s mother at the wedding. She certainly hadn’t disappeared. What had he meant by that?
“A nice hot cuppa tea’ll warm ’er up,” Jeb said.
Adam nodded to him.
“Good day to ye, Falstone,” Jeb gave as a parting and turned back to watch John and Buttercup.
Adam led Persephone away from the paddock, toward the inner wall and the path that led back to the castle.
“Falstone?” Persephone asked, confused.
“Before my father died, I was Lord Falstone.” The unease in his voice increased. “A courtesy title.”
“Jeb knew you then?”
Adam answered with an infinitesimal nod. “He has been at Falstone nearly all his life. He was head gardener for many years.”
“And now?”
“Rheumatism,” Adam answered. “He still oversees the hedge garden. And helps his son in the stables now and then.”
“John,” Persephone said, understanding suddenly dawning: the familiarity of his face, his knowledge of John and the horses. Jeb was John’s father.
“Have any of the other servants been at Falstone as long?” Her mind remained on Adam even as she spoke. What had happened with his mother? What was it that caused the bleakness in his eyes? It was still there, hidden behind the look of indifference she was only just beginning to see past.
“Mrs. Smithson began as a chambermaid.” Adam walked stiffly, speaking in a tone of disinterest that thetonwould have applauded. “That would have been some time ago. Barton has been here at least as long as I have.”
Adam may have been disinterested—Persephone no longer trusted herself to interpret his demeanor or tone—but she certainly was not. Barton, the butler, had known Adam all his life. So had Jeb. And probably Mrs. Smithson.
If anyone understood this enigma she had married, they might. But how did someone approach her own staff with such a question?
“Pardon me, but could you please explain my husband to me?” That would never do.
Persephone looked up at Adam. His eyes were focused ahead. She walked on his left side, something she suspected he planned. She wasalwayson his left side. His scars, she felt certain, were clues to his character, as was that inexplicable comment about his mother.
What she needed was someone who could help her interpret those clues. She would decipher them, she knew that much. In her heart of hearts she knew that doing so was essential.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mother had a way with words. According to his esteemed parent, Adam’s name was on the lips of every member of theton. This time, the Upper Ten Thousand chose to entertain itself by speculating on his recent marriage.
Some are saying that Persephone has left you already.
