She turned wide eyes to Caroline in time to see her nearly float into her own chair, skirts delicately spread on the seat to allow adequate movement in all directions.
Adelaide couldn’t even sit in a chair correctly. This was going to take considerably more than a single afternoon.
She was late. Caroline had made her rise and sit so many times that her legs were burning by the time she’d gotten home. Dressing for the night had taken twice as long as normal, and now she stood at the top of the stairs, terrified to take the first step.
There were no polished black evening shoes visible in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Was it possible he wasn’t here yet? Could she still await him in the drawing room so that she wouldn’t have to notice if he’d lost that look of wonder he always wore when she came down the stairs?
“You’re lovely.”
The deep, quiet voice at her side made her jump and clutch for the top of the stair railing.
With a firm hand gripping her elbow, she knew she was in no danger of tumbling headfirst down the stairs, but it still took her a moment to pull her gaze from the treacherous stairs.
To her right, in the corner of her vision were the shoes she’d been expecting down below, the polished leather catching the light of the stairway candelabra. Her gaze climbed up, across buff-colored trousers and then the blue stripes of his waistcoat before giving way to the deeper blue of his cutaway coat. One hand clasped her elbow while the other rested at the small of his back, emphasizing his broad shoulders and making her middle jump in a way she’d thought it never would again.
But it was his face that truly robbed her breath. The wonder was still there, thank God. But it was veiled now, with some other undefinable emotion. Fear? Worry? Was he as nervous to see her again as she was to see him?
“You’re home.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d wondered if, even dared to hope, he would be returning. Was it possible they could move forward and she could stop worrying if he ever meant them to be more than only a public couple?
“Shall we?” He let go of her elbow and offered his arm. For the first time in their wedded life they walked down the stairs together. It was an important moment, Adelaide knew, and she did her best to follow Caroline’s hasty instructions so she didn’t muss the elegant picture they surely made.
They didn’t say anything as they crossed the hall, but he pulled her to a stop before they reached the door.
“Adelaide.” He cleared his throat and turned her to take both of her hands in his own. “I need you to know I’m going to be a good husband.”
Thick emotions she couldn’t begin to name choked her throat.
His gloved hand lifted and smoothed his bent knuckles across her cheek. “You don’t have to say anything, but I do. I want to make things right with you, and I think, from here on, we move forward without a plan or a scheme. Could we do that? Can you give me one more clean slate, Adelaide?”
“My mother knew.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, as if her tongue were racing to get her own confession out of the way so they could claim a new start together.
Trent opened his mouth and then shut it with a click of teeth. He blinked at her. “Knew what?”
“That we were there. In the ruins. She was the one we heard drive by.”
“And she left you there to force our marriage?”
Adelaide winced, knowing she needed to come completely clean but not wanting to. “She thought you were Griffith.”
Silence pressed in for a moment, and then Trent threw his head back and laughed. “No one can accuse us of being normal, Adelaide, that is for certain.”
An answering smile stretched across her face, and giddy freedom bubbled into her own laughter.
He leaned over and skimmed a gentle kiss along her lips. “No more secrets, no more schemes. I promise not to hurt you again, Adelaide. I will be a good husband.”
The little memory of her snooping through his study drawers ran through her mind, but she pushed it away. That wasn’t a secret, not really. It was the type of thing people learned when they lived together. As long as she never brought it up it would never be an issue.
The tightness around his green eyes lessened as his laughter faded into a brilliant smile complete with a deep dimple in his left cheek. As he escorted her out the door, Adelaide thought about her feet, made sure her head was held steady so she wouldn’t dislodge her feathers or her curls, and maintained a respectable distance between her body and Trent’s so as not to accidentally trod on his foot the way she had a few nights ago on their way in to a musicale.
The ache that hit her legs as she tried to climb into the carriage almost made her turn back and decide the opera wasn’t worth going to after all. Only the knowledge that she’d still have to climb stairs to get back into the house propelled her forward. After meticulously adjusting her skirts so that she wouldn’t pull off any ribbons or stress any seams, she folded her hands in her lap, keeping her average-sized reticule secure so it wouldn’t lose any of the fringe circling the base. Without a book inside, the bag felt light, and she worried that she would swing it around indiscriminately because of that.
Trent climbed in after her, easing into the seat with the same unconscious care that he always did. He wasn’t pretending to be a consummate gentleman. It had been bred into him while he was still in short pants.
“Did you know,” she said as the carriage began rolling, “that one of the first operas in the United Kingdom was performed on a covered tennis court?”
Laughter immediately filled the carriage. Trent reached over and took Adelaide’s hand, pressing it between his own. That alone made her mad dash through the library at Lady Blackstone’s house worth it. She’d wanted something to break the potential tension of the evening, and the book on the history of the theater had provided exactly what she needed.
He didn’t say anything as the laughter faded away but he wrapped his hand around hers and stared at it, running one finger along the seam of her glove, following it from finger to finger, sending shivers from her hand, along her spine, to the tips of her toes curling in her slippers. “There’s one more thing I need to say, Adelaide. I want to apologize. Last night I—”
“Please don’t.” Adelaide lifted her free hand and pressed her fingers over his lips, causing surprise to break through whatever thoughts had been focused on setting things right. “We’re starting over, remember? Clean slate. I’m well. Honestly, I am. So I think the best thing we could do now is enjoy the opera.”
He looked at her for a moment, long enough that she began to wonder if they were going to discuss it after all. But then his smile returned, his even, white teeth barely visible through the curved lips. “Agreed. We’ll enjoy our evening. Have you ever been to the opera?”
She shook her head. “No, but once Father took me to Birmingham with him, and we went to the theater.”
“How old were you?”
How old had she been? It had been several years. Before Helena had started coming to London. “I think I was twelve. Perhaps thirteen.”
“And that was the last time you went to a theater?” His voice was quiet as London rolled by the carriage window.
“I always caught the traveling shows when they came through Riverton.” She knew that wasn’t what he meant but she didn’t want his pity tonight. She wanted to be a lady, worthy of respect and perhaps even a little bit of love. If they were going to start anew, that seemed like as good a goal to work for as anything.
They climbed out of the carriage, and Adelaide was so distracted she almost snagged her trim on the carriage door. She sucked her breath in between her teeth as she carefully leaned back to dislodge the trim from the door hinge. Perhaps tomorrow she could make it an hour without mussing up her outfit. She at least needed to make it for the hour she was going to spend at Caroline’s house practicing how to sit and learning how to walk. Perhaps they could adjust the lesson to incl
ude climbing into carriages properly.
She curled her fingers around Trent’s offered arm, giving it a light squeeze that drew another one of his dimple-inducing, heart-stopping smiles, making her remember his passionate kisses before everything had gone wrong. She smiled to herself as they entered the opera house. Maybe she didn’t want to forget everything about the past twenty-four hours after all.
Chapter 30
Trent was supposed to be responding to something Colin was saying—that was a person’s normal role in a conversation, after all—but instead he was staring at his wife on the other side of the conversation circle in Griffith’s opera box. Something was different, and Trent had no idea what it was. He couldn’t say for sure what it was about his wife, but she was not the same young woman he’d become accustomed to taking about town.
They’d arrived at the opera with barely enough time to greet the other occupants of the box before settling in for the first act of the performance, which meant intermission was the first opportunity they’d actually had to converse with Colin and Georgina, who had decided to join them tonight. The current conversation was mostly between Georgina and Adelaide, though Colin threw in an observation or two along the way. They stood in a circle behind the chairs, stretching their legs and avoiding some of the curious eyes that always watched the aristocratic boxes for interesting gossip.
Not that there was much of interest to be seen with two married couples as the only occupants of the box, but Trent was starting to crave his privacy in ways he never had before. It could possibly have something to do with having had his life dissected earlier that day by a group of men he highly respected.
They were discussing the costumes of the first act now, something Trent really didn’t have an opinion on because he hadn’t paid much attention. He’d been too busy making sure Adelaide was enjoying her evening. If they hadn’t had their vague but cleansing conversation in the carriage, he would have counted the change as awkwardness or even worry, but he truly felt they’d moved on. Moved on to what he wasn’t sure, but they’d moved beyond whatever limbo he’d put them in with his courtship idea. Still there was something more, something missing. His eyes ran the length of her, wondering if she needed to stretch her legs more than they were already doing. He’d brave the crowds in the outer corridors if she needed to walk.
But she wasn’t fidgeting. She was hardly moving at all, which was very unlike the Adelaide he’d come to know. Normally she exuded a quiet but bubbly sort of life, which was probably how she always ended up with her ensemble in disarray. Trent’s lips quirked up as he took in his wife once more, this time searching for some adorable flaw in her appearance.
“Don’t you agree, Trent?” Colin smirked as he aimed the question Trent’s way.
He wasn’t about to admit that he hadn’t been listening, so he took the risk of agreeing. “Of course.”
“There, you see, Adelaide? Trent agrees that it would be ridiculous to stay in London during the summer heat. Now you’ve only to decide which of the estates you want to go to.”
Trent wanted to glare at Colin—he really did—but there was such hope in Adelaide’s face that he couldn’t look away from it. He didn’t know when or how the topic had veered away from the bizarre costumes of the opera, but did it matter?
Scripture from his afternoon at Hawthorne House drifted through his mind.
“. . . she became his wife, and he loved her . . .”
“Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.”
“. . . giving honour unto the wife . . .”
Trent looked at the joy on Adelaide’s face at the mere thought of returning to the country, and his decision was made. What was keeping him in the city year-round, anyway? Just because he stayed on one of his estates for a while didn’t mean he had to get involved in the day-to-day running of things. His estate managers could carry on as if he weren’t there, and he’d be taking care of his wife, giving of himself for her. It wasn’t easy and it didn’t feel like love yet, but it felt right and that was a start.
“Why don’t we go to Suffolk?” Trent asked, unable to resist running one knuckle down her cheek when it was lit by such a wide smile. “I’ve yet to see it. You spent time there as a child, didn’t you?”
Adelaide nodded. “Father always stayed there when he went to the races. He usually took me with him. We stopped going about five years ago.”
When Helena had come to London. Had life stopped for her with her sister’s societal debut? Trent gave serious consideration to calling her parents on the carpet for their favoritism and negligence, but that would require spending time in their presence, and he was becoming more and more determined to avoid that unless absolutely necessary—and to keep Adelaide as far away from them as possible as well.
“It’s settled, then. We summer in Suffolk. Maybe Colin and Georgina will even come visit.”
Now he was volunteering to host country house parties? Was there anything he wasn’t willing to do if it meant making Adelaide happy?
Colin rubbed his chin in thought. “I’ve never really looked into horses. They’re a rather unpredictable investment, but it could be fun.”
Georgina sighed. “You don’t need another project.” Her nose wrinkled. “And horses smell.”
Colin frowned. “But I’ve already stepped away from the shipping, and now I’m putting less in corn. I need something to do.”
“Be glad you didn’t marry a businessman, Adelaide. I spend half my life competing with profit shares and stock exchanges.” Georgina tempered the complaint with a small smile.
No one had been more surprised than Trent when Georgina had declared herself in love with Colin. Perhaps because he’d seen them at the beginning of their acquaintance when the mere sight of the man made Georgina flush with irritation.
That volatile emotion had transformed over time, making them one of the most devoted couples Trent had ever known. The way they helped and supported each other was a thing of beauty.
Servants began dousing some of the candles, signaling an end to the intermission. Colin wound an arm around his wife’s waist as he led her back to her chair. “You know, if you want me to put down the newspapers, all you have to do is ask.”
His sister’s cheeks pinked slightly, and Trent hurriedly escorted Adelaide to their seats at the front of the box.
Sometimes Trent really hated being such good friends with his sisters’ husbands.
She wouldn’t have thought one small change could cause such a disturbance in her morning routine, but the knowledge that Trent would be in the house seemed to change every pattern she’d formed over the last few weeks. Adelaide had gotten in the habit of dressing herself in the mornings and only requiring Rebecca’s services when she dressed for the afternoon.
But now Trent was home. Would he expect her to come down properly dressed and coiffed? She stared at the ceiling, wondering if she should ring for Rebecca or simply keep to her normal routine. Whatever she chose couldn’t be as awkward as their return from the opera.
He’d escorted her in, but it seemed strange somehow for him to lean in for a kiss as had been their custom before . . . well, before. Especially since he hadn’t stopped at the bottom of the stairs but had escorted her all the way up to their shared parlor. The enjoyment from the evening made the unusual end feel all the stranger. He’d darted in and given her a quick kiss before exchanging a stilted good-night and retreating to his room.
Now knowing he was on the other side of that door, that she’d be seeing him at breakfast, that she was going to have to watch every move she made for the entire day and not just the evening, all of those things made her terrified to get out of bed.
The soft knock at her door made her jump. At first she thought it came from Trent’s room but then the door from the parlor opened and Rebecca came in. “Good morning, my lady.”
Adelaide sat up in bed. “How did you know to come this morning?”
&
nbsp; Her maid pulled back the curtains, letting in the morning light before bustling to the dressing room. “Lord Trent will be at breakfast this morning.” She paused at the door and tossed Adelaide a smile that could almost be termed cheeky. “I’m starting to learn how this house functions, my lady. It takes a bit of getting used to.”
“I know what you mean.” Adelaide threw the covers back and submitted herself to Rebecca’s ministrations, already missing the comfort of her old morning dresses and braided hair. Lady Blackstone’s rules had been firm, though, that she was never to let her appearance put her at a disadvantage. Adelaide assumed that included when she was dealing with her husband.
The sacrifice was worth it though, when Trent’s eyes followed her across the breakfast room to the sideboard. She fixed her plate, carrying it to the table carefully. Rebecca had stared openly when Adelaide returned from the opera last night looking nearly as put together as when she’d left. It had been a difficult thing and she had nearly broken her fan, but overall she’d been impressed with herself, if a bit uncomfortable. There was candle wax on her glove and she’d apparently bumped her toe against a soot-stained wall at some point, but the dress was intact, her hair still perfect—or as perfect as it could be with hair that now occasionally got trapped in her eyelashes—and her reticule unblemished.
She intended to continue her appearance-maintaining habits this morning, even if they took more thought than she liked to give her clothing. So much thought that last night she often had trouble following the conversation and giving adequate attention to her gloves at the same time. Eventually she hoped the careful movements would become second nature and she wouldn’t have to think about them all the time. Being a proper lady was exhausting.
Her plate made it to the table without incident, but it unnerved her to try to sit correctly with Trent’s eyes glued to her. He waited until she was situated to resume his seat.
“I’ll be out for a while, but I’ll be back in time for our ride this afternoon.” He cleared his throat and ran his napkin through his fingers. “Assuming you still wish to go for a ride.”
An Uncommon Courtship Page 26