She nodded. “That would be nice. I don’t have any other particular plans.”
And so their morning went.
And every morning after for the next two weeks.
From what little Adelaide knew of marriages, the Hawthorne ones notwithstanding, theirs was a better than average existence. They talked. She continued to look up interesting facts to share on their afternoon rides. Cooking was turning out to be something she enjoyed and was actually good at. After Adelaide mastered the cooking of bacon, Mrs. Harris had moved her on to more complicated dishes.
It wasn’t the most ladylike of pursuits, but even Caroline had been forced to admit that Adelaide would never be a normal lady. Though she still gave Adelaide suggestions on how not to ruin slippers and hemlines, she’d given up on the gloves and simply suggested Adelaide keep an extra pair in her reticule now that a book no longer took up most of the space.
Mr. Givendale came by to visit Trent twice more, always when he wasn’t home and always when another visitor had just left, leaving Adelaide stuck in the front hall when he tried to gain entrance. She never invited him in for tea again, but they always seemed to stand in the front hall chatting for a few moments without her ever intending to enter into a conversation. Fenton would clear his throat and Adelaide would wish the man a good afternoon. It had been odd but never concerning.
They went to his mother’s card party and let everyone in the family believe that everything had worked out between them, and in a way she supposed it had. It hadn’t become the marriage she’d been hoping for when he first proposed his courtship idea, but it was better than she’d actually thought she’d have.
She did want children though, and she didn’t know how to broach the topic.
Now sitting at the breakfast table two weeks after Trent had moved back in, her fork poking holes in her ham, she admonished herself to keep giving it time.
“Mr. Lowick is coming by today. I don’t know if you know him. He manages the Suffolk estate.”
Adelaide nodded as she carefully chewed and swallowed her toast, taking care that not a single crumb escaped. Caroline’s lessons had gotten easier to apply but she still had to be very conscious of everything she did. “Oh, yes, I remember him. Would it be a terrible imposition of me to greet him while he’s here? He used to sneak me candies when I was a child.”
“Of course. I’ll have someone let you know when he’s been shown to my study, and you may come in at your leisure. I haven’t met him yet, though we’ve exchanged letters a few times.” Trent’s plate was empty, but he didn’t leave the table. “Have you any other plans for the day?”
Adelaide sighed. Was this what they were to become, then? Polite strangers sharing a house? Little more than housemates? A rather lonely existence stretched out before her and the pressing need to establish a connection—any connection—made her heart race. “Your mother is coming by this afternoon.”
Trent choked on his tea. “My mother?”
Adelaide nodded. She hadn’t told Trent of her lessons because she didn’t know what he’d think about them. Despite his declaration that they were to have no more secrets between them, the intimacy of that moment before the opera had disappeared, and she felt compelled to maintain the idea that everything was perfect. That she was perfect. “She’s going to show me how to address invitations.”
“How to address . . . I see. Good. I’m glad.” He took another sip of tea and adjusted the fork he’d put down on his empty plate moments before. “Are we having a gathering?”
Panic tightened Adelaide’s grip on her own fork. Should she have cleared her plans with Trent beforehand? It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision at Lady Blackstone’s the day before, an act of near desperation in her attempt to be a better wife. “I thought we might have your family over for dinner, a sort of trial gathering, if you will. The house isn’t really ready for much entertaining. Your mother and I thought about three weeks from now would be good timing.”
Trent smiled, easing Adelaide’s unease. “That’s a splendid idea. Be sure to include Anthony and Amelia.” His smiled dropped a bit at the corners. “Is it . . . ? Are we only inviting my family?”
The thought of having her mother and Helena in the same room as two dukes and a marquis made Adelaide want to push the rest of her breakfast aside. “Yes. I think my family might wait for another time.”
Or never, given that she couldn’t remember the last time her mother and father had attended an intimate gathering at the same time. They rarely even sat down to dinner together at home in the country.
She was beginning to have an idea as to why.
“I think that might be wise.” Trent fiddled with his fork a bit more, seeming about to say something else before changing his mind. Instead he stood and started to lean over her chair as if he were going to give her a kiss before starting his day. She rather hoped he would follow through on the motion, but he righted himself instead. “I’ll be in my study if you need anything. Mr. Lowick should be here in a couple of hours.”
“All right.” She watched him walk from the room before turning back to her plate.
They were making progress, weren’t they? He’d stayed after finishing his food and had almost kissed her good morning. There was no need to wallow in self-pity simply because things weren’t moving as fast as she’d like.
She stabbed at her breakfast until it turned cold and then abandoned the unappetizing mess to retreat to her small study to take care of what little correspondence she had before Lady Blackstone arrived. At the top of the pile was a note from her mother inviting her to tea that afternoon. Who invited someone for tea? Did her mother think she’d be so rude as to not return the exceedingly brief visit she’d made earlier that week? While it was true Adelaide had contemplated doing such a thing, she didn’t think she’d have had the nerve to follow through on the notion.
The three other items on her desk were easily taken care of, and then she had nothing to do but wait and stare at the peeling wall coverings and compare their sad state to that of her own life until Lady Blackstone was announced.
Chapter 31
There were fewer than ten people in Trent’s family. Invitations to a simple dinner should not have taken very long—at least Adelaide hadn’t expected them to. She hadn’t counted on Lady Blackstone’s exacting measures on proper penmanship and address. By the time the countess was satisfied, Adelaide had done four complete sets of invitations. They had then pulled Mrs. Harris in to discuss the menu, which took another half an hour but thankfully didn’t leave Adelaide with a cramp in her wrist.
By the time Lady Blackstone took her leave, Mr. Lowick had been in Trent’s office for two hours, and Adelaide was afraid she’d missed him. Not that it would be that devastating. Trent had promised they would go to Suffolk this summer, so she would see the man then. It wasn’t even that she’d been all that close to him. He’d been employed by her father, after all. Adelaide thought maybe it was a desire to establish the connection between her past and her present, to remind herself and Trent that something good had come of their union.
She knocked softly at Trent’s study door.
“Enter.”
With a proper ladylike smile that even Lady Blackstone would approve of, Adelaide pushed her way into the room. “Pardon the interruption—a little later than expected, but I’m afraid my morning went a little differently than planned.”
Trent grinned without restraint. “My mother made you write everything six times, didn’t she.”
“Well, four, but the invitations look stunning.”
Surprise and something that might have been pride flickered across her husband’s face. “Four? Your penmanship must be exquisite. I dare you to send out the first set and see if she notices.”
Such a thing had never crossed her mind—would never cross her mind, as she’d never been brave enough to step outside of expectations before. Marrying Trent had been enough out of the normal way of things to make her the subject
of speculation for another three years, at least. Still, the invitations were only going to family members, and the playful gleam in his eyes was so tempting that she found herself drawn in. “Perhaps the second set. I spelled your sister Georgina’s name incorrectly on the first set.”
The approval in his smile made her want to send the first set out even with the incorrectly spelled name.
Trent stood and came around his desk, sweeping an arm toward the country gentleman standing in front of one of the chairs in the study. “You remember Mr. Lowick, don’t you, Lady Adelaide?”
Adelaide had completely forgotten the man was in the room, but she tried to cover it with a gracious smile and a tilted head, berating herself for having forgotten her manners and determined to be perfection for the rest of the meeting. “Of course. I’m glad I was able to see you before you left. I remember walking the estate with you and my father as a child.”
“Oh, yes,” the older man said. “I used to sneak you pieces of peppermint as we walked.” He pulled a small tin from his pocket. “I still carry some everywhere. Would you care for a piece?”
As she smiled and took a piece, it was nice to be reminded that not all of her growing-up moments were dark and dismal. The sweet flavor of the peppermint brought back images of sunrises on dew-dampened fields and horse rides across flowery meadows. Summer couldn’t come soon enough for her country sensibilities.
“Your timing is perfect, Adelaide. Mr. Lowick and I were just finishing up.” Trent crossed the floor to stand next to her, as if they were a single unit sending off one of their guests. Would they stand like this when they greeted his family at their dinner party? Stand together as the couples filed out? She was suddenly looking forward to an evening that had seemed more of a chore or a rite of passage a few hours earlier. Of course, once everyone was gone they would probably coldly part ways and go to their separate rooms unless she could take the time between now and then to convince him that she was a perfect wife despite their earlier stumbles.
Mr. Lowick slid a stack of papers into his leather satchel. “I’ll take the mail coach Monday morning and start implementing these crop plans as soon as possible. It’s still early enough in the spring that the changes should be easy enough to make.”
“Oh, wonderful. Are we going to do the pineapples, then?”
Silence met Adelaide’s question. Tense silence. Adelaide bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to know about the pineapples, had only come across the plans because she’d been going through Trent’s drawers, but she’d still been dreaming of them as a unified, sharing couple, and she’d been unable to let the opportunity to prove she knew something about him slide by.
The stunned curiosity on Mr. Lowick’s face proved that pineapples had not been discussed in that meeting. She was almost afraid to look at Trent, but she told herself that being a coward would only make it worse to deal with later.
His easy smile was gone, replaced with a dark frown. Irritation narrowed his green eyes, devoid of any trace of laughter. All the softness she’d grown accustomed to seeing in his face disappeared. She’d never seen him mad, wasn’t sure many people had, but there was no doubting that he was feeling the emotion now.
“What do you know of pineapples?”
A glance away from Trent’s angry scowl revealed that Mr. Lowick really wanted to leave. Only Adelaide and Trent were blocking the door, and she didn’t think Trent would take kindly to a suggestion that they move out of the way. “I was looking for the invitations Fenton set aside for me. Lady Raebourne said sometimes you stuff them in a drawer. I saw the drawing and was curious. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have looked, I know, but it was fascinating. And I thought maybe, since Suffolk had so many horse farms you would be able to get the . . . well . . . the necessary elements for your plan. I never meant . . .” Adelaide swallowed, her mouth dry after her rushed explanation. “I never meant any harm.”
Trent rubbed his hands over his face and pushed his fingers into his blond hair, sending it flopping around his head in a tangled mess that only made him look more fashionable and handsome. It really wasn’t fair that the man wore dishevelment so well.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I’ve heard about pineapples. They’re very precious, but I don’t know that they can be grown in England.” Mr. Lowick held his satchel in one hand and scratched his head with the other.
The sigh that drug its way out of Trent’s chest sounded painful. As if he knew he were about to say something he would later regret.
“The Dutch.” Trent stopped and cleared his throat. “The Dutch have come up with a method for growing them in greenhouses. I sketched out a few modifications to make it more efficient, but I hadn’t planned on doing anything with it.”
“And it involves horse, er, byproduct?”
“Yes.” Trent nodded, his lips pressed tight and his eyes sad as he fought some inner battle. Adelaide couldn’t believe she’d done this to him. After all of her intentions, all her plans to be the best wife she could possibly be, she’d gone and done this. Exposed something he’d never meant to show anyone. Though her limited knowledge recognized the plans were well thought out and rather remarkable, he obviously thought they weren’t and had meant them to remain private.
When nothing more was said, Mr. Lowick finally cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll be off, then. I’m staying at the Clarendon if you need me, my lord.”
“Of course, Mr. Lowick.” Trent nodded and pulled Adelaide away from the door with a gentle hand on her arm. Even in his anger he still treated her gently. Adelaide’s admiration for the man grew.
If only she hadn’t wrecked whatever remained of his admiration for her.
They stood there, waiting in silence until they could no longer hear the manager’s footsteps.
Then they waited a few moments more. Adelaide wasn’t about to be the one to break the silence. She didn’t know what Trent was thinking or what she should do, so she fell back on the habits of childhood and waited.
When Adelaide was twelve she’d worked for months to learn how to scoop an uprooted shrub from the ground as she rode by, the way she saw them do in one of the trick-rider shows that had come through the village. Of course, that rider had picked up a handkerchief, but he’d been male, considerably taller than Adelaide, and able to ride astride. She decided picking up a tangle of branches was enough of a feat for her to master.
She’d shown no one, though, afraid they would laugh at the amount of time she’d spent on such a ridiculous feat. Her brother had seen her practicing one day and brought her father out to see the spectacle. He’d beamed at her and shown all his friends who came to the house until she turned thirteen. After that he deemed it unseemly to show off such tricks to his friends, but Adelaide never forgot how much he’d encouraged her for those few months.
“You’ve known about the pineapples for a while, I gather.” Trent’s voice was quiet, and he looked tired, as if all the righteous anger had slid through him, leaving him drained and exhausted.
Adelaide blinked, trying to reconcile the man in front of her with the vibrant, athletic man she normally saw, but she couldn’t do it. Everyone had secrets, and it seemed she’d somehow stumbled onto Trent’s, but she didn’t know what it meant or why. Why would such a confident man be unwilling to share such innovative ideas? Was it possible that when it came to things of the mind he doubted his abilities in ways he didn’t when it involved physical exertion? “Yes. Since, well, a long while.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly between pressed lips. “I’m going for a walk.” His gaze found hers, and her heart broke over the torturous look in his eyes. “I need to walk when I’m upset. It isn’t you. I want you to know that. We’ll talk later.”
“Are we still going to the Bellingham ball tonight?” Adelaide wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, and offer comfort for a wound she still couldn’t identify. But she knew that it hurt, and that knowledge was enough for her to want to make it better.
/> “Yes. I . . . Yes. We’re still going. If you want to.”
Adelaide nodded, not sure what to do but trying to trust him when he said they would talk later.
Trent looked at her, and already she could see him pushing the sadness down to wherever he normally stored it. The light was coming back to his eyes and the anger was nowhere to be seen. But it wasn’t enough to erase her memory of his earlier emotion.
“It’s just a walk to clear my head. I’ll be back.” He came forward and tipped one knuckle under her chin, forcing her to look into the green eyes she found herself avoiding. “We’re going to make this work, you and I. In time, we’ll learn how to rub along well.” He brushed a light kiss over her lips and walked out the door.
Leaving her alone in his study. After what he’d just learned, how could he trust her?
Her eyes drifted to the bottom drawer of the desk, where the pineapple papers probably still resided. It would be so easy. She could get them now, send them to Mr. Lowick at the Clarendon. She could play the role her brother had played for her all those years ago.
Indecision glued her feet to the wool rug. While the revelation of her horse riding escapades had ended well, the initial feeling of betrayal had driven a wedge between her and her brother for a while. She’d forgiven him, of course, and until now she never thought of the bad part of the story when she looked back and remembered.
Her familial relationship had weathered the betrayal without any lasting damage.
But would her marriage? Trent had promised they’d talk later, that they’d learn how to rub along well together, which was all she’d ever thought she’d get in a marriage. So why was she suffering disappointment that she was going to get what she’d expected?
The walls of the house seemed to press in until she couldn’t stand them anymore. So she did the one thing she’d planned on putting off for as long as possible.
An Uncommon Courtship Page 27