Again a look crossed Persephone’s face, one that seemed to hint that she held something back, a word or a gesture. In the end, she simply smiled. “I think a ball would be nice.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Harry actually had to sit down. “Adamsuggestedit?” He shook his head almost convulsively. “Adam?The Adam I know?”
“I don’t understand it, either,” Persephone admitted. “I never would have thought that Adam was capable of suggesting a ball at Falstone Castle.”
“He didn’t mention this at dinner last night.” Harry continued his head shaking. “When did he propose this scheme?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I fully expect to hear he has changed his mind.”
“No doubt.” Harry’s expression grew ponderous. “Adam has been doing a lot of uncharacteristic things lately, come to think of it.”
“Has he?” Her quest to understand Adam better had only left her more confused than before. Hopefully, Harry could provide her with some insight.
“Just yesterday, in his book room, in fact.” He gave her an ironic look. “He talked for twenty minutes, at least, about our days at Harrow and his old nurse, Nurse Robbie. He kept asking me why I haven’t dropped his acquaintance. Adam doesn’t talk about things like that. He doesn’t talk about anything remotely personal.”
She’d wanted insight. That was certainly a great deal to think about. Adam didn’t discuss personal things. Persephone had noticed that herself. Apparently, however, Adam had been doing just that—insisting upon it, if Harry was to be believed. It was entirely out of character, and Persephone wondered what had instigated the sudden need in Adam.
She felt certain Adam had spoken with Harry on the topics he had because he needed to for one reason or another. Artemis became that way at times. Generally, she preferred not to talk about the mother she had never known. The subject invariably left her quiet and unusually distant. Persephone suspected that Artemis silently blamed herself for their mother’s death, passing as she had in childbirth. But there were times when Artemis simply had to speak of her, to hear of her. Those times nearly always came when Artemis felt most needy, when she was ill or upset or frightened.
Persephone wondered what it was that Adam needed.
“Barton says Cook is in tears.” It was an uncharacteristic entrance for Adam, who, generally, chose the more formal and impersonal approach. He raised his eyebrow the way he always did when he found something humorous. Adam never actually laughed. Except, Persephone remembered with a secret smile, for the time they’d spent a few nights ago planning a fictitious attack on the neighborhood.
“What did you do to her?” Harry asked.
“I didn’t do anything.” Adam walked to the windows of the sitting room, his back now turned to its other occupants. “She was informed about the upcoming ball.”
“She is that upset about it?” Persephone’s heart sunk.
“She is thatpleasedabout it,” Adam corrected. “She’s been reduced to weeping at the kitchen table.”
“How has the rest of the staff reacted?” Persephone kept her amusement at Cook’s response to herself.
“Mrs. Smithson is acting as urgent as though the ball is this evening instead of three weeks from now. Barton has simply begun grinning when he thinks I am not looking.”
“Three weeks from now?” Persephone rose to her feet as she spoke. “But, Adam, Linus is supposed to be coming in three weeks’ time. Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind about his visit.” She stood watching him, knowing her face had probably gone unflatteringly pale.
Adam looked almost hurt at her words. Hurt? She’d never imagined that Adam could be injured by anything any person said. “Of course not, Persephone.” His eyes connected with hers, and she felt a twinge of shame for doubting him, so obvious was his frustration at her assumption. “I thought Linus would like to be part of the celebration.” Adam looked away from her. “He is a little young to dance at a ball, but he might make an appearance, at least.”
“I think Linus would appreciate being included,” Persephone answered as Adam walked away.
She wanted to be Adam’s friend and, thus far, had managed only to isolate him further. The silence in the room grew heavy. Harry, Persephone noticed, watched Adam with a degree of perplexity that did not bode well. If Adam’s closest friend found his behavior confusing, then Persephone did not stand a chance.
She searched her mind for the right thing to say, the right topic to pursue. Harry had said Adam seemed determined lately to discuss his childhood.
“Would you have enjoyed a ball when you were thirteen?” Persephone asked him.
“He does not enjoy a ballnow,” Harry said.
Persephone gave Harry a frustrated look.
“So why the sudden urge to entertain, Adam?” Harry pushed the subject.
Adam paced to the window but didn’t answer.
“You’ve invited Persephone’s little brother. And, now, with the ball, I imagine every family of consequence in the northern half of England will be at Falstone at the same time.” Harry’s comments were not having a positive effect on Adam’s mood. “That is precisely the sort of thing that makes you miserable.”
