“Lord Delacourt…” Adrian stepped carefully into the room, toward the bed. “Are you… are you awake?”
“Sadly,” a voice croaked. “Unless this is a nightmare from which I cannot wake.”
“My name is –”
“I know who you are,” Lord Delacourt spoke over him, even as his voice remained low-pitched and hollow. “What I do not know is why you are here.”
Adrian reached the end of the bed and stopped, not daring to get any closer. Through the dark, he tried to find the man’s face, but if he was turned over, the blankets pulled to cover him as if he was scared of being seen.
“I…” Adrian hesitated, no longer sure of what he wanted to say.
He had thought a great deal about this moment, but he had not considered for a second the state that Lord Delacourt would be in. And while Adrian should not have cared, as the man meantnothing to him, he found it hard to detach his feelings as he needed to do.
His plan was to ask Lord Delacourt about the affair his wife was involved in, hoping that the man would reveal who the father was so that Adrian could find him. No need to tell him about Harriet, as Rupert was right about the consequences of such a revelation. All Adrian needed was a name… or, barring that, information on where he might start to look.
To ask such a thing now felt cruel. To add to the man’s misery and pain was something Adrian could not do. Once, he might not have cared at all, but Adrian had changed much since meeting Ophelia. Even if he hated to admit such a thing.
“I am here in regards to a maid who once worked for your home,” Adrian started, deciding on a different course of action.
“A maid?” Lord Delacourt said softly.
“Her name was Ophelia,” Adrian said, staying at the bed’s end. “She worked here for three years, or so she claimed.”
“You know Ophelia…” Lord Delacourt shifted.
“She came to my home last month,” Adrian answered. “She has been…” He hesitated but then decided on his next course. “She has been working for me, and while I did not intend to hire her, she cited you as a reference.”
“She did?”
“I meant to check earlier on the truth of it, but then I heard of the death of your dear wife and thought to wait. I am sorry, by the way, to hear of such things. I cannot imagine how you must be feeling.”
Lord Delacourt said nothing at first. His breathing was soft, but through it, Adrian heard the distinct sound of sniffing as if the man was holding back tears.
“You have nothing to fear, Your Grace,” he spoke finally. “Ophelia did indeed work here for three years, and she was a vital part of the household. Whatever she told you, I am sure it is the truth. You are lucky to have her.”
A smile tugged at Adrian’s lips and his stomach twisted with regret. “I know I am…”
“Strange,” Lord Delacourt said next. “That a duke would seek such information. Why not send someone in your stead?”
“I…” Adrian hesitated again, no idea what to say. His mind turned for an excuse, something that could be believed. “I worried that if you learned of her and where she has been, that you might demand her return. If that was the case, I came to ask that you see it in yourself to release her from your service. She has been good to me – my estate, I mean. I would hate to lose her.”
A soft chuckle. “My wife always liked her.”
“As she liked your wife,” Adrian said quickly, sensing an opening. “She spoke often of her, in fact. And when she heard of her passing, she was bereaved. She thought to return here and mourn her, but she told me herself that such a thing would be too hard to bear.”
“I know a thing or two about that,” Lord Delacourt said. “I do apologize for the state you have found me in –”
“Not at all.”
“It is just…” He sniffed again. “What has Ophelia told you of my wife, Your Grace? Surely, she has spoken often of her time here?”
Again, a chance presented itself. All Adrian needed to do was tell him that he knew of the affair that she was said to have had, to lead the man down that path so that he might open up in his sorrow. No doubt, he needed such a thing.
And yet… Adrian just could not bring himself to do so.
It was strange to empathize with Lord Delacourt as strongly as Adrian was at that moment. While he had not lost someone to death, he knew what it was like to have let a person whom he cared deeply for go. Since his argument with Ophelia last evening, Adrian had fallen into depths of despair so painful, sotorrential, that to speak it out loud would surely have broken him so that he might never recover.
And while Adrian told himself time and time again that he was doing the right thing, his biggest fear was that if he thought about it for too long, if he asked anyone for their advice, they would change his mind and make him see a different type of truth.
