Page 84 of His Scarred Duchess

He found himself outside her chambers, his hand on the doorknob before he realized what he was doing. With a muttered curse, he wrenched his hand away.

“Your Grace?” a maid’s timid voice called from behind him. “Is there something you need?”

Edmund turned around, fixing her with a glare. “No,” he snapped. “And why are you lurking about? Don’t you have work to do?”

The maid’s eyes widened in fear. “Y-yes, Your Grace. I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she stammered, curtseying hastily before fleeing.

As evening fell, Edmund found himself back in his study, nursing yet another glass of brandy. The room felt cavernous, oppressively silent without Adeline’s presence.

“Could you ever love me?”

Her words haunted him, the hurt in her eyes as he’d failed to answer that question searing his soul. He should have saidsomething, anything. But the fear—the paralyzing terror of being hurt again—had stolen his voice.

A knock at the door pulled him from his brooding thoughts.

“What?” he barked.

Thornley entered, his face a mask of professional calm. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but a message has arrived from London. From the Dowager Marchioness of Alderton.”

Edmund’s heart leaped, then plummeted. Not from Adeline, then. “Well? What does she want?”

“She requests your presence in London at your earliest convenience, Your Grace. She says it’s a matter of some urgency.”

Edmund snorted. “Urgency, I’m sure.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Tell her I’m indisposed.”

Thornley hesitated. “If I may, Your Grace… perhaps a change of scenery might be beneficial. The house has been rather… tense these past few days.”

Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “Has it? And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“I wouldn’t presume to say, Your Grace,” Thornley replied, his tone carefully neutral. “Shall I have the carriage prepared for tomorrow morning?”

For a long moment, Edmund was silent, warring with himself. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. I leave at first light. Now leave me.”

As Thornley bowed and retreated, Edmund turned to stare out the window. London. Where Adeline was. Where he might see her. Where he might have a chance to explain…

No, he told himself firmly.It changes nothing. She’s better off without you.

Chapter Thirty-One

“Adeline? What in God’s name are you doing here?” Lord Brenton’s voice, sharp with surprise and displeasure, cut through the peaceful afternoon quiet of the drawing room.

Adeline’s head snapped up from the book she’d been reading, her heart racing at the sight of her father’s thunderous expression.

“Father,” she said, rising to her feet. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Clearly,” he replied, his eyes narrowing. “Where is your sister? And more importantly, why aren’t you at Holbrook, where you belong?”

Adeline felt her cheeks flush with a blend of shame and anger.

“Isabella is out with her companion. As for why I’m here…” she trailed off, unsure how to explain the tumultuous events of the past few days.

Lord Brenton’s frown deepened. “Well? I’m waiting for an explanation, Adeline. Has something happened at Holbrook? Is the Duke ill?”

“No, nothing like that,” Adeline said quickly. “Edmund is… he’s fine. I just needed some time away.”

“Time away?” Lord Brenton’s voice rose incredulously. “You’ve been married for barely three months, and you’re already abandoning your duties? I thought I raised you better than this, Adeline.”

The accusation stung, igniting a spark of defiance in Adeline’s chest. “Raised me? Is that what you call it, Father? Ignoring me for years, pushing me aside in favor of Isabella?”