Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (Belston & Friends #1)(42)

And he reached out spontaneously and seized her hand, squeezing the fingers in his until she looked up at him. ‘I would take it all back if I could. Throw the invitations on the fire before they could be sent. You must know that I have no desire to force you into behaviours that will only bring back unpleasant memories. It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable or unhappy. And if there is anything I can do to help…’

Perhaps he sounded too earnest, and she doubted his sincerity. For when she looked at him, her face was blank and guarded. ‘Really, Adam. You have done more than enough. Let it be.’

But damn it all, he did not want to let it be. He wanted to fix it. ‘The ball will go on. There is no stopping it, I suppose. But in exchange, I will do something for you.’

She was staring at him as though the only thing she wished was that he leave her alone. What could he possibly do? It was not as if he could promise her a trip to the shops. She had made it clear enough what she thought of them, when he had forced her to go the first time. And if her mind had changed and she wished such things, she could afford to purchase them for herself.

And then, the idea struck him. ‘At the ball, we will announce that it is our farewell from society, for a time. We will be repairing to our country home. There, you will have all the solitude you could wish for. It is Wales, for heaven’s sake. Beautiful country, and the place where my heart resides, but very much out of the way of London society. Your books can be sent on ahead, to greet you in the library when we arrive. Between the house and the grounds, there is so much space that you can go for days without seeing a soul. Dead silence and no company but your books, for as long as you like.’

Her eyes sparkled at the sound of the word ‘library’. And she seemed to relax a bit. ‘This will be our only party, then?’

‘For quite some time. I will make no more rash pronouncements in public without consulting you first.’

‘And we may go the very next day?’ She seemed far more excited by the prospect of rustication, than she did by the impending ball.

‘If you wish it.’ He smiled. ‘And we will see if you prefer it to London. But I warn you, it is frightfully dull at Felkirk. Nothing to do but sit at home of an evening, reading before the fire.’

She was smiling in earnest now. And at him. ‘Nothing to do but read. Really, your Grace. You are doing it far too brown.’

‘You would not be so eager if I told you about the holes in the roof. The repairs are not complete, as of yet. But the library is safe and dry,’ he assured her. ‘And the bedrooms.’

And suddenly, her cheeks turned a shade of pink that, while very fetching, clashed with the silk on the walls. To hide her confusion, she muttered, ‘That is good to know. The damage was confined, then, to some unimportant part of the house?’

And it was his turn to feel awkward. ‘Actually, it was to the ballroom. When I left, it was quite unusable.’

And her blush dissolved into a fit of suppressed giggles. ‘It devastates me to hear it, your Grace.’

‘I thought it might. I will leave you to your work, then. But if you need help in the matter of the upcoming event, you will call upon me?’

She smiled again. ‘Of course.’

‘Because I am just across the hall.’ He pointed.

‘I know.’ She had forgiven him. At least for now. He turned to leave her, and glanced with puzzlement at a lone remaining Meissen figurine, turned face to the wall and occupying valuable space on his wife’s bookshelf. He shook his head at the carelessness of the servants, and turned it around, so that it faced properly into the room. ‘I will send someone to have this removed, if it annoys you.’

She shook her head. ‘Do not bother. I have grown quite used to it.’





Chapter Thirteen




The night of the ball had finally arrived, and Adam hoped that his wife was not too overwrought by the prospect. He had nerves enough for both of them.

Clarissa would be there, of course. He combed his hair with more force than was necessary. Another meeting with her was unavoidable. He could not hold a party and invite his friend, only to exclude his wife. There was very little to do about Clarissa without cutting Tim out of his social circle entirely. And he could hardly do that. They had been friends since childhood. Tim’s unfortunate marriage to the shrew, and Adam’s regrettable behaviour over her, had done nothing to change it, although Adam almost wished it had. It would have been so much easier had Tim called him out and shamed him in public, or at least cut him dead. But the veneer of civility, when they were together at a social gathering, was a torture much harder to endure.

He hoped that the presence of Penny, and success of the evening, would cool the look in Clarissa’s eye.

There was a change in the light that fell upon the table, and a discreet clearing of a throat.

He looked up into the mirror to see his wife standing in the connecting doorway behind him.

He didn’t realise he had been holding his breath until he felt it expel from his lungs in a long, slow sigh. It was his wife, most certainly. But transformed. The gown was a pale green, and with her light hair and fair skin, she seemed almost transparent. As she came towards him, he imagined he was seeing a spirit, a ghost that belonged to the house, that had been there long before he had come.

And then the light from his lamp touched the gown and the sarsenet fabric shifted in colour from silver to green again, and the silver sequins sparkled on the drape of netting that fell from her shoulder to the floor.