“Are you sure you don’t want to go for a carriage ride instead?” Isobel asked.
“No, I think I need some exercise. I feel like I have been sitting for days on end.”
“Where is Lysander?”
Adele tried to think. “He is in the house somewhere, probably his study. He might have gone to the club—I’m not sure.”
They walked in silence for a while. “It is surprisingly nice to go for a walk in this weather—it is like you have London all to yourself, with everyone being shut away in their houses.”
“We explored Venice in the rain and it made it even more memorable, I think.” There were some muddy patches that needed to be carefully treated, but Adele appreciated the fresh and brisk air, and the open space. There were no birds singing and the whole city was quiet. “I wonder if it will be a difficult spring this year.”
“Adele, why don’t you come and stay at my house for a while,” Isobel suggested. “There is no reason you must stay at Lysander’s. If you are having difficulties getting along, it might be best for all if you come stay with me. You know I have plenty of room.”
Adele thought it over for a second. “As much as I appreciate the offer, it is unnecessary; we are not being disagreeable.”
“Something has happened,” Isobel said disbelievingly.
“No, we have, on the whole, been getting on fine—perhaps better than we ever have. I am just in a funny temper today. I am sorry; I’m not the best company. I think I might lie down for a while when we return; perhaps I might be able to rest.”
Lysander could hear her coming—that determined march Isobel had when trouble was coming his way. He’d hear it all his life.
“What have you done?” she demanded as the door to his study forcefully swung open.
“I have done nothing,” he defended himself, but he knew what his aunt was referring to. Adele looked awful when she’d come down to breakfast in the morning. She’d avoided his eyes and they’d eaten in complete silence. Naturally, his aunt had assumed he’d done something horrible—perhaps he had.
“Nothing? Adele looks like a shadow, stalking the corners. What did you say to her?” Isobel demanded in an even stronger voice.
Lysander looked out the window. “I didn’t say anything,” he said after a while. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing that Isobel knew what had happened, because he felt out of his depth—he had since the moment he’d brought Adele back, but more so now. “I took her to the opera last night and we ran into Lord Alterstrong.”
“And that cow Cassandra?”
“Yes.”
“And you told Adele about your history with Cassandra?”
“No. Adele inferred it. Cassandra was her usual self—slightly familiar. And she’s not a cow.”
“Yes, she is—you were just never able to see it.”
He gave her a hard look for her ungenerosity—which he knew had been targeted toward Cassandra, even when they were young.
“Adele reacted...” he said with a forceful flurry of his hand.
“Why do you insist on making her suffer so?” Isobel said with exasperation.
“I don’t insist on making her suffer,” he said sharply, denying the accusation. “I have never sought to make Adele suffer—“
“But somehow you always manage,” Isobel broke in.
“Then tell me, Isobel, what I can do to end her suffering, because I don’t know what to do,” he said sharply.
“Let her go.”
Lysander brought his gaze back to his desk, settling on the sterling silver inkpot. He felt his shoulders sink, but the tension would still not relent.
“Let her go to Devon—let her come to my house. You don’t deal well together. Let her go.”
“I am not holding her here. If she wants to leave, I will not stop her, but she wishes to stay.”
“I cannot believe you, Lysander. I have just come from spending the morning in her company and she is not thriving in your care.”
He hated every moment of this discussion, but he was also glad he had someone he could mention his concerns to—Harry wouldn’t be receptive or understanding of this conversation and certainly not his concerns for Adele’s welfare. “There is a certain matter we have agreed to conduct within the remaining confines of this marriage,” he said in a calm, low tone.
“Matter?”
“A matter of ...” he couldn’t find the right word, “procreation.”
Isobel gasped. “Are you lying with her?”
He didn’t answer. Groaning loudly in dismay, Isobel paced sharply around the room. “Lysander, I ... Why would you do this? You would wilfully make her suffer for your need for an heir?”
“It is something she has requested,” he said, hating the accusation lain at his feet. “She wishes for a child—someone to care for—someone to fill her future. I couldn’t deny her.”
Isobel closed her eyes. “I am speechless, Lysander. You must see the foolhardiness of this venture. You are reducing her to a shell.”
“It serves us both. She is not as fragile as you believe.”
“And she is not as strong as you believe.”
“Then I will leave it up to Adele to make choices for herself. She is free to leave if she wants to.”
“Does she know that?”
“If she doesn’t, I will tell her.”
Isobel gave him another pointed, accusing look before leaving and he felt her departure like a lightening of atmospheric pressure. Isobel saw all his faults and all his intentions, but he truly didn’t intend on Adele’s suffering, and what he said was true: if there was any way he could end or diminish her suffering, he would. Providing her with a child was in that vein of intent, but it might be costing too much, he conceded.
Adele looked a bit brighter when he saw her in the afternoon—her cheeks had a bit more color. Having stewed on his conversation with Isobel before lunch, he’d decided he needed to conduct a candid discussion with Adele. If she truly sought to leave, he would help her do so—heir or no. He wasn’t prepared to insist if she suffered in the process.
He wasn’t sure about how he felt about her leaving. If she left before they created an heir, it would mean some requirements for his future, but he wasn’t callous enough to injure her for it.
He found her in the dining room arranging flowers. She had her back to the door and her hair was up, revealing the back of her slim neck and its pale smooth skin. For a second, he had an urge to touch her, feel her warm skin under his fingers, but he distracted himself, and her, by clearing his throat. Turning at the sound, she had some flower he couldn’t name between her dainty fingers.
“Isobel is concerned that you are not thriving here,” he said. Adele turned back to the vase the pushed the stem into the collection. “She feels that perhaps you are better away from here.”
Turning back to him, she leaned back on the side of the table. The outline of her legs becoming visible underneath the material of her dress and he had another image that served to distract him.
Her gaze was uncomfortable as she considered him; he felt the pressure of it, but there was no discernible judgement in it. “If you wish to leave, I will arrange it for you—anywhere you wish to go, Devon, Isobel’s. I can even get you a cottage somewhere if you wish—just tell me what you want.”
“I want a child,” she said quietly.
“As you wish,” he said and nodded, withdrawing from the room. His heart was beating strongly and his hands sweating, and he had to get out of the room. She wished to stay. A light feeling was washing through him—one he couldn’t identify, but he was pleased, it seemed.
Returning to his study, he sat down in his chair. The house was quiet again. Somewhere he could hear one of the servants moving around, or perhaps Adele. Somehow it felt like a storm had passed and things had returned to normal—perhaps it was a bit lighter outside as well, he thought as he stared out of the window.
Chapter 22
Lysander was feeling restless the
next day. It was a bright but cold day and he felt hemmed in. He considered going to his club, but it was a bit early and Harry was away, which was fine, because for some reason, he didn’t really want to see Harry today. But he wanted to do something.
Adele had looked better when she’d come down in the morning. He knew she was in the parlor and after putting down the book of accounts he was supposed to be reviewing, he decided to seek her out, seeking distraction and diversion, and wondered if it would suit her as well.
She looked up from her book as he entered the room. He smiled uncomfortably. “There is an Egyptian exhibition at the British Museum—apparently there are some recently discovered pieces on display at the moment. Everyone is talking about them, I hear. I thought I would go see what all the fuss was about. Would you like to accompany me?”
There was something about her scrutiny that made him self-aware. There wasn’t judgement in her eyes that he could see, but still there was something that made him a little cautious around her.
“I have noticed that you have an interest in intrepid explorers,” she said.
“I used to,” he admitted. As a boy, he’d wanted to be an explorer and the discoveries in Egypt had always had a grasp on his imagination, but he’d put those dreams aside a long time ago.
“Are you going now?”
“Yes,” he said, again with a sense of imposition insisting an immediate response.
“I would love to,” she said, putting her book aside.
“I will call the carriage around.”
As she retreated to her room for a moment, he waited downstairs, until her return in a dark green dress, which caught his attention for a moment, particularly her slim waist, accentuated through the sharp tailoring of the dress. A matching hat graced her head, pinned slightly off-centre. She looked elegant and alluring.
Holding the door open for her, he assisted her into the carriage for the short journey to the British Museum, where she placed her hand in the crook of his arm as they walked up the wide stairs to the Museum’s entrance.
“I haven’t been here since I was a girl,” she said. “My governess used to take me.”
“My governess would never hazard taking me in public,” he said with a smirk.
She smiled. “No, I was a good girl. My governess took me all around London; she believed in teaching history with examples. We went to the Tower, to the Roman Wall. She even took me to fields where battles had been fought—not that there was anything to see. Looking back, I think her enthusiasm for history was a little excessive.”
“I was a naughty child,” he confessed and pulled away, smiling as he turned back to her, giving her a conspiratorial look. “My governesses would leave in exasperation”
“I don’t believe you were that bad,” Adele challenged.
“I saw my fair share of room corners.”
“You could not have been too wild; you did secure a place at Oxford.”
“Through excessive pledging and pleading by my father.”
Adele couldn’t really see him as the naughty child he described. It was so different from the man she knew—the forbidding, sullen and distant man. A frown settled on her features as she realized it had been her and their marriage that had brought the darker perspective to him—the deep disappointment and knowledge that he wouldn’t get what he wanted out of life. She felt sadness fill her again, after she’d worked so hard to find her equilibrium again.
“I always thought I would visit Egypt,” he said wistfully. “I might still.”
“Will you? I’ve always thought visiting Cairo would be romantic.”
“Romantic? Hot, foreign and crowded.”
“You are such a complete Englishman, aren’t you? Unless it is grey and raining, you don’t feel at home. I am more of an intrepid traveler than you are, I think.”
“Did you like India?”
“Yes,” she said. “It was so very different.”
“Even the crowds.”
“They were a bit confronting, I admit, but I managed. I loved the mornings in India, when it was cooler and the sun was rising to the peacock cries.”
“We have peacocks here.”
“Yes, but they seem to fit better in India.”
“You wish to travel more?”
“Yes. I think I will take a leaf from my governess’ book and teach my child in real surroundings.” She watched as his face clouded over momentarily. “Do you want a child?” she asked after a while.
“Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it much beyond the requirements of my station.” He grew more serious. “And while this child will provide me with an heir—in truth, I’ve seen it more as your child.”
“Don’t you wish any part in raising it?”
“Do you wish me to?”
It hadn’t actually been a question she’d considered. She, too, had seen it as her child, to be taken away to wherever her new home would be. “A child is always benefitted by the influence of its father.”
“Are they? Isobel’s children don’t seem to suffer from their father’s absence.”
“No, that is true. They are wonderful and she has done an admirable job raising them.” Adele thought back to her own father and his distance and distraction. He loved her, she knew, and provided her with the best money could buy. He had paid an absolute fortune to secure her a marriage with the right station and society—securing her own misery in the process. In hindsight, it hadn’t been a decision that had provided her with anything of value and it had been his own elevation her father had achieved above all else.
Adele’s mind returned to the question at hand: would Lysander make a better father—enough to make her want his involvement with the raising of this child? “I cannot believe you don’t want children.”
“I never said I didn’t; I just hadn’t spent a great deal of time considering it.”
Their conversation was stopped when they arrived at the room holding the new Egyptian discoveries. The room was large and white, with enormous windows along one side of the wall, high above their head. “Perhaps I should go to Egypt,” Lysander said as he surveyed a set of pottery from the collection borrowed from the Exposition Universelle. “Would you go to Egypt if you had the chance?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Traipsing all over the world with a child in tow?”
“Why not?”
“I am glad my mother isn’t alive to hear you.”
They spent two hours walking through the Museum, exploring all sorts of exhibitions from ancient worlds covering the entire globe—ancient weapons, to miniature heads, to Mayan carvings. After returning for lunch at home, Adele retreated to her room to rest. Her mind turned over the things he’d said during their excursion.
Lying in bed, she heard Lysander leaving the house, likely to spend time at his club. The house grew completely quiet with his absence.
She had liked spending time with him today. It had been a little like their time in Venice, when they were exploring something together. But her sadness was still there, under the surface, whenever she thought of him and the things they’d been through.
Supper was a muted affair and Adele felt a little stifled in her tight dress and corset. She felt a certain nervousness as she knew he would come to her tonight. She just knew and would be highly surprised if he didn’t. There was a silence between them and a sense of anticipation filling the air.
Adele could hardly keep herself still as she waited after having retreated to her room once her untouched desert had been cleared. Having removed her dress, she’d slipped into her nightgown. Normally, she loved this time of day, when her corset came off and she could be free for a while—the time that was completely her own between undressing and sleeping—but tonight he would be joining her and it would be their time, not hers.
She started slightly when he knocked, even though she expected his appearance. Opening the door quietly, he stepped inside. He’d taken his jacket and vest off somewhere, leaving him in a c
risp white shirt. Adele stood at the side of the bed, leaning on the post, feeling heat and anticipation coursing through her body. His eyes were dark and they reflected the light from the candles, making them sparkle as he moved. He looked handsome as he approached her. Her breath caught.
He reached for her, touching the side of her face. “Do you want me here tonight?”
“Yes,” she said, a little more breathy than normal.
He looked uncertain for a moment, then slowly leaned down and kissed her. Adele felt the kiss reverberate through her body and she stepped closer, crossing the space between them. His hands gently traveled down the side of her neck and along her shoulders. The familiar taste of him suffused her mind, driving her to seek more.
As the kiss broke, he pulled her to him, moving his mouth to the side of her neck. His breath was heavy in her ear and she was taken over by the feel of his body pressed to hers. It felt like it had been too long since they’d been like this—these stolen moments when they could forget everything else, and the unpleasantness that had to be dealt with outside of this little sanctuary.
Quick thoughts of Cassandra stole into her consciousness, but she pushed them out. These were her moments—they might be all she’d ever have of him and she wasn’t going to let all the mess intrude.
He kissed her again and she let him explore her mouth, urging him to join her on the bed. Adele moaned as the weight of him descended on her, flaring the heat deep in her belly. She wanted more friction as his knee sought entry to the space between hers.
Pulling back slightly, he gently tugged the string that kept the neckline of her night gown together, like he was unwrapping a gift. The sides gave way, revealing her breasts which ached for his touch. His fingertips ran down along her collarbone to the mound of her breast and the tight bud that sought attention.
She wanted to move her thigh to get him closer to her centre, but his weight kept her pinned where she was. Her hands tugged at his shirt to access his warm smooth skin underneath, feeling the muscles of his back and the flair as his lower back gave way to the firm curves of his backside.
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