Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(37)

He returned to the cottage to find Adelaide sitting with James on her lap. Her cheek rested against his golden baby curls. Nick hated to interrupt, but he must. “It’s time to go, angel,” he said gently. “Your mother will be worried if we don’t make it back to London before dark.”

Her arms tightened around the boy, and for a moment he thought she would refuse. “Must we?” she asked. But then she stood, handing James to Miss Sherwood. She touched his nose with her finger. “I’ll visit again soon.”

Nick waited while she pulled a small purse from her case and handed it to Miss Sherwood. “For everything,” she whispered. “You have been so good to me.”

“Come again,” Miss Sherwood said with a grateful smile. “As often as you can.”

Adelaide remained composed while he helped her into the carriage. It was not until they were out of view that she made a low keening noise and her body shook with sobs.

He was beside her at once. “Don’t—please don’t.”

But she did, and he was helpless to dam the flood. Realizing he could not comfort her, he simply wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap as though she were a small child. She turned her face into his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears. He stroked her hair, her shoulders, her back, rocking her, murmuring soft words he knew she did not harken.

“Forgive me. Forgive me.”

He would make this right, somehow. He would find her a man she deserved, a man who hadn’t murdered and lied, a man who hadn’t left her so cruelly with a baby in her belly.

He was not that man.

But he knew just who was.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Adelaide did not understand precisely how the change in Nick had occurred. She only knew, in the week that followed their visit to Epsom, that something was different. Unfathomable as it once seemed, before last week she had begun to think of him as a friend. A bothersome friend, perhaps, but a friend nonetheless, and one who understood her in a way no other friend could. True, he’d often lectured, and sometimes looked at her with more lust than was proper.

Yet she’d known he was her friend.

Now he seemed like a stranger.

He had hardly said a word to her during Lady Billings’s dinner party two evenings ago, and tonight at Almack’s was much the same. When he did speak beyond the required “Good evening, Miss Bursnell,” it was only to treat her like an invalid. Was she comfortable? Did she need a drink or refreshment? Was she cold? Was she hot?

It set her teeth on edge.

Even now, he was standing nearby. He was always nearby, watching her with a sort of wary apprehension, as though he expected her to collapse in hysterics at any moment.

It was her own fault for wailing into his shirtsleeves. Naturally, he’d been frightened out of his wits and was eager to keep her calm lest she do it again.

She turned, intending to seek out Alice, and there he was at her elbow.

Damnation.

“Miss Bursnell.” His tone was scrupulously polite. “Do you have need of me?”

Her exasperation dissolved at his words. Yes, yes, she had need of him. She fairly ached with it.

“No, Mr. Eastwood. But I thank you for your attentions.”

His gaze searched her face. “Do you require something to eat? Or shall I fetch Montrose for you?”

“You are not my errand boy, and in any case, one does not fetch a duke. I am quite comfortable. I am well.” Over his shoulder she saw Alice bearing down on them. “Perhaps you should turn your attentions to Lady Claire.”

He did not blink. His eyes were as expressionless as a placid lake under a blue sky. “Is that what you wish me to do?”

“Yes,” she lied.

He said no more, only bowed and departed. She watched as he crossed the ballroom to where Lady Claire stood with her mother. He gestured to the table heaped with biscuits and punch, and Lady Claire nodded. Apparently, she, too, had need of him.

A warm hand slipped into her own, giving it a squeeze. She recognized the feel of it even through their gloves—the shape was so much like her own. She squeezed back, taking strength from the contact.

“Dearest, you’re trembling,” Alice whispered. “Shall I boil him in oil?”

She laughed. “No, Alice. I do appreciate the offer, however. It is very sisterly of you.”

“Shall we walk on the terrace, then? This room is terribly hot.”

How strange, then, that Adelaide felt so very cold.

“By all means,” she said. “I should like some fresh air.”

They walked hand in hand to where the large double doors had been thrown open to the night and stepped through.

Alice turned to her and said, “I have not been as sisterly as I ought, despite my readiness with boiling oil. Indeed, I have neglected you quite badly, I’m afraid. I ought not to have left you so vulnerable to Nicholas. This courtship must be so trying for you. It’s impossible to conduct a courtship without speaking, more’s the pity, but he ought to be less odious about it. What was he thinking, pestering you so?”

Adelaide sighed. “I suspect he was thinking he might be of service to me. He was quite mistaken, and I sent him away to bother Lady Claire.” Although Lady Claire certainly did not look bothered.

Alice frowned. “He should bother no lady until you are happily settled.”