The Broken Duke Page 5

  Emma shrugged. “I could care a fig about what your aunt Opal says to me.”

  “Your Abernathe looked as though he wished to call her out,” Adelaide said with a shake of her head. “Pistols at dawn with my spinster aunt.”

  “He’s protective,” Emma said with a smile. “But I don’t need it. You do. Was she very hard on you after?”

  Adelaide shrugged. “Just harsh. You know her and her erratic behavior.”

  Emma frowned. “You could come and stay with James and me,” she suggested.

  “She’d never allow it,” Adelaide said immediately. “At any rate, I’m…fine. I’m fine.”

  Emma didn’t look convinced. “Well, what about just joining us for supper? Do you think Opal would allow for that?”

  Adelaide considered it. She would not return to the theatre for another performance until the next night. “I think I could convince her,” she said. “If my maid was with me as chaperone.”

  Emma’s face lit up. “Wonderful. I so want you to see our home and the nursery and get to know James better.”

  Adelaide couldn’t help but beam at Emma’s enthusiasm. “Well, my dear, I look forward to all that, too. It will be nice to have a night away where I can just be myself and not worry about anything but how much dessert to eat.”

  “Your Grace?”

  Graham looked up from his ledger to find his butler, Rogers, standing at the door to his study. The man had been with his father and continued on after the previous Northfield’s death nearly eight years before. Because of their long acquaintance, Graham knew the servant could read his troubles, probably better than most.

  Graham could do the same. From the way the older man kept shifting his weight, he could see whatever Rogers was about to say was not pleasant.

  “What is it?” Graham asked, carefully setting his quill down and focusing his attention as best he could. A difficult feat considering his head had been spinning for days now.

  “You have a visitor,” Rogers said softly. “The Duke of Abernathe.”

  Graham froze. Although his quarrel was with Simon, his relationship with James had been strained for months. Not strained—destroyed. Before the ball the previous night, he hadn’t seen the man he’d considered his brother since he walked out of his home in the country months before.

  “I see,” he said, rising. “I assume he will not be turned back?”

  A hint of a smile crossed over Rogers face. “You know the duke, sir. He’s always been quite singular.”

  “Stubborn as an ass,” Graham corrected. “Yes, I know. Well, show him in.”

  Rogers seemed pleased at Graham’s response and stepped out to fetch his guest. That gave Graham a moment’s reprieve before he faced what was about to come. He smoothed his waistcoat and shook out his suddenly tingling hands.

  And then James walked into the room slowly. He paused at the doorway, and Graham stared at him. His friend looked lighter than he ever had, happier thanks to his recent marriage. The concern in his eyes was only for his friend, not for his own troubles.

  Graham couldn’t help but be happy for that fact. He knew his friend deserved the happiness he’d found.

  “Graham,” James said at last. “I admit I feared you would not see me.”

  Graham cleared his throat. “Is that why you haven’t called before?”

  James shifted. “After our last encounter, I thought it best to give you your space. I knew you were well, or at least as well as could be expected because of—”

  “Your spies,” Graham grunted. When James seemed surprised, he laughed softly. “Oh yes, I know Ewan and Matthew and even Kit report back to you when they see me. You’re our fearless leader, after all. King of the Dukes.”

  James sighed. “Some king. I allowed my kingdom to be destroyed.”

  Graham shook his head. “That wasn’t you, mate. At any rate, I’m…” He hesitated, then met James’s eyes. “I’m happy to see you,” he admitted.

  James’s expression softened and he crossed the room, hand outstretched. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  Graham stared at the hand, then grabbed it and tugged James in for a brief hug. He pounded James’s back and backed away, both men shifting from the discomfort of the emotional display.

  “Drink?” Graham asked, turning away to regain some control over his emotions.

  “Yes.” James’s voice was thick.

  Graham poured them each a scotch and motioned to the chairs by the fire. They sat together, nursing the drinks for a moment before James set his aside and leaned forward, draping his forearms over his knees.

  “Does your accepting me here mean you have decided to forgive your friends?”

  Graham closed his eyes. James meant Simon. James meant going back to normal. He’d been thinking of it more and more lately, but seeing Simon the night before made him realize just how much he still stung.

  He sighed. “I know it isn’t your fault. That this quarrel is between Simon and me, but—”

  “Just come to supper,” James interrupted.

  Graham opened his eyes and stared. His friend looked a little desperate as he made the suggestion. “I don’t know,” he said slowly.

  James shook his head. “It will only be Emma and me,” he reassured him. “Please, it’s just a start. I only want a start, Graham.”

  Graham pushed to his feet and paced across the room as he considered the request. He did miss James. He missed all his friends and the camaraderie and family they had represented to him all the years they’d had their club. They were the only family who had ever mattered.

  “Very well,” he said at last.

  James leapt to his feet, and his grin was almost impossible not to return. “Most excellent,” he said. “I’m so happy, and I know Emma will be delighted, as well.”

  Graham tilted his head. “You’re content,” he said, a statement, not a question.

  “I am more than content. I’m blissful. I never thought I could be so happy, nor deserve to be loved as deeply as she loves me. But I can. I do.” He stressed the last word heavily. “So do you.”

  Graham couldn’t help but flash to an image of pale blonde hair and soft lips, superimposed over another of dark-rimmed spectacles and sharp wit. He shook the cacophony away and said, “Well, not all of us can be so lucky.”

  James paused a moment before he said, “You danced with Adelaide last night.”

  Graham rolled his eyes. “To avoid the whispers of the crowd when Simon and Meg came in. I assure you there was…there was nothing between us.”

  James pursed his lips. “Well, she is a wallflower. I know from personal experience that wallflowers make the best wives.”

  Graham waved him off. “For you, perhaps. But right now I assure you that finding a wife is last on a long list of things I want to do.”

  James shrugged one shoulder. “If you say so. For now I will simply be pleased that one of those things is coming to supper.”

  “Yes, for now supper will have to be enough,” Graham agreed, then elbowed his friend. “Game of billiards?”

  James’s face lit up. “Absolutely. Since you ran off to London, I haven’t had a decent match.”

  They moved toward the hall together and Graham grinned. “You mean you haven’t taught Emma to play yet?” he teased.

  James barked out a laugh. “Every time I try, I get…distracted by her,” he admitted.

  Graham shook his head, even as a warm sense of belonging filled him, one he hadn’t allowed for months. Opening this door, even a tiny sliver, felt right to him. And he looked forward to a quiet evening with his friends before he went back to the tangled confusion of his life.

  Chapter Six

  Adelaide stood in the nursery of Emma’s London home, cooing over the sweetest christening outfit she’d ever seen. “The lace is fantastic,” she said, fingering the softness of it.

  “It’s been in James’s family for generations,” Emma said with a contented sigh. “He wore it, as did Meg,
and now this baby will continue the tradition.”

  “Oh, Emma,” Adelaide whispered, shocked that tears suddenly stung her eyes. She turned away so her friend wouldn’t see, but turning away from herself was not possible.

  She didn’t begrudge Emma her happiness, certainly. But she was jealous. Despite her sneaking out to act in the theatre, despite her continuing attendance to parties and balls, her life was predictable. Her past wouldn’t allow her the future Emma now stepped into.

  She would likely live and die alone. She had accepted that fact as best she could. Her escapes were the way she lived with it.

  “Adelaide,” Emma began, but before she could continue, there were sounds of male voices from the hall.

  Adelaide took the distraction, backing from the room as she said, “It sounds as though Abernathe has arrived.”

  Emma examined her closely but then nodded. “Indeed, it does. Come, let’s greet him.”

  Adelaide followed her friend down to the foyer, gathering her breath and her senses with every step. She was fine. This was fine. Everything would be fi—

  Her mind cut off the soothing thought as she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw that Abernathe was not alone. There, standing beside him as Emma stepped up to greet him, was Northfield.

  Graham recognized that Emma was speaking and James was answering, but he had no idea what they were talking about. He was too busy staring at Lady Adelaide. She remained three steps up on the stairs, her hand clenched in a white-knuckled grip on the railing. And she was staring straight at him through those spectacles that made her eyes so frustratingly hard to read. Hard to see at all. All he knew was that they were focused on him.

  And he was not sorry about that fact.

  “And you know Adelaide, I think, don’t you, Graham?”

  Graham jolted as Emma placed a warm hand on his forearm and drew his attention back to proper and practical things, like introductions.

  “Y-Yes,” he croaked, stepping forward to extend a hand. “Lady Adelaide, how nice to see you again.”

  She swallowed, that slender throat working with the action, and then she came down the last few steps. She stared at his extended hand a beat too long before she took it and allowed him to bow over it briefly.

  “I did not know you would be here, Your Grace,” she said. Her cheeks brightened to pink the moment she said the words. “I-I mean, good evening.”

  Emma glanced back and forth between them and then motioned to the room off the foyer. “Gracious, let’s not stand in the drafty hall all night. Come, we’ll go to the parlor.”

  She and James led the way and Adelaide fell into step beside Graham as they followed. The moment they entered, she left his side and moved to the opposite end of the chamber, almost as physically far as she could get from him without breaking the glass and hurdling herself out the window and into the street for an escape.

  He watched her. She was uncomfortable because of his presence. And of course she would be. Their parting last night had been abrupt, brought on by his compliment of her and her sharp reaction to it.

  He hadn’t pursued her after that, finding other ways to avoid Simon and Meg before he slipped from the ball with what he hoped was little fanfare. But he’d been thinking of Adelaide ever since, images of her merging and colliding with those of Lydia Ford.

  He shook his head when James said, “We’ll be right back.”

  He blinked as Emma and James stepped from the room, leaving him as alone with Adelaide as he had been on the terrace. He shifted his weight. “Where were they going?” he asked. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Adelaide speared him with a glance. “They claimed to be going to inform the staff that there would be two extra guests for supper. But since either of them could have performed that duty alone or asked a servant to do it, I think they were actually going to talk about the fact that each of them invited one of us without the other knowing.”

  He tilted his head. “Is that a problem, Adelaide?”

  She stiffened at his less formal address of her and turned her face to look out at the dark street below. “It isn’t for me, Your Grace.”

  “Good,” he said, and then he did the thing he’d been wanting to do since they entered the room. He took a step toward her.

  She wasn’t looking at him, but he knew she marked the movement by the way her breath caught and her hand slowly clenched into a fist at her side. Things that only urged him on.

  “Last night at the ball, I said something to you that clearly offended you,” he said, glancing back at the door to ensure they were not about to be interrupted.

  “Of course you didn’t,” she said softly, refusing to look at him.

  “Of course I did,” he corrected her. “Else you would not have walked away from me on the terrace. I’m not exactly certain how I offended you, but I apologize regardless.”

  She caught her breath, and now it was she who took a long step toward him. The distance between them was rapidly shrinking, and he found he wasn’t sorry for that.

  “You aren’t certain?” she said, keeping her voice low even though the anger in it was clear. “You were toying with me, Your Grace. You were playing a game.”

  “You accused me of that last night,” he said. “And I assure you, I do not play games.”

  She shook her head. “All men play games.”

  There was something about her tone that drew Graham up short, and he stared at her. For months he had been wrapped up in his own pain and betrayal and heartbreak. He’d been incapable of recognizing anyone else’s feelings. Now he saw hers, flitting across that slender face before she packed them away and hid them.

  And a strange part of him longed to dig those feelings out. Allow her to express them as she clearly did not do. Comfort her.

  He didn’t, of course. It wasn’t his place. Not in this world or any other. But just because he had no connection to this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t be gentlemanly. He had the capacity, he just hadn’t been in practice lately.

  “Adelaide, let me assure you I was not playing a game with you last night. I danced with you because I was uncomfortable with the situation, but I was honest with you about that, wasn’t I?”

  Her lips parted and his attention was drawn to her mouth immediately. He shook off the reaction as she said, “Well…yes.”

  “I chose you because I thought you wouldn’t hound me about Meg and Simon. Which, of course, you did.”

  She gasped in outrage. “I did not!”

  He found himself chuckling a little as he shook his head, and was shocked by it. He hadn’t laughed in a very long time. “You did, Adelaide. But I somehow didn’t mind your questions. They’re the same ones all my friends have been dancing around for months. You are the first to be so damned direct, and perhaps I needed it in that moment where I felt so…vulnerable.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Oh.”

  “And I admit I asked you because I didn’t think you’d assume my invitation to take a turn around the dancefloor was an indication that I wished to link my life to yours for the rest of my days.”

  She clenched her jaw slightly. “Of course not, don’t be foolish.”

  He nodded. “You see, you are practical. I like that about you. Either way, the reason I asked you onto the terrace afterward was because I did enjoy the dance and I didn’t necessarily wish to stop talking to you. None of that was a game. None of that was a lie.”

  “But what about what you said on the terrace?” she countered. “You told me you thought I was pretty and I know that is a lie. One you probably tell without thinking because it’s what simpering, ridiculous fools want you to say when you look into their eyes and pretend to like them.”

  He shook his head slowly. What the hell had someone done to this woman? Her sharp reaction was too specific not to think it hadn’t been born from bitter experience.

  “First,” he said, ticking one finger with the other. “It isn’t a lie. You have an interesting
face, Adelaide. Second, I haven’t stared into a ridiculous fool’s eyes and told her anything for almost a decade. If you recall, I have been engaged up until recently, so I haven’t been bent on seducing anyone since I was nineteen.” He huffed out his breath. “But if you do not want me to call you pretty, then I will certainly never do so again. I will only compliment you on your intelligence and your wit and the fact that you may be the most frustrating person I have ever had the pleasure of talking to.”

  He stopped talking for a moment, and his face fell. Great God, what had he just said to this person? This lady? This stranger? And now she was just staring at him, eyes wide beneath her spectacles, face unreadable, but filled with tension.

  He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, she tilted her head back and began to laugh. The sound took him utterly off guard, for it was a throaty, rich laugh that echoed in the small room around them. A lovely laugh. A sensual laugh, actually.

  And a laugh that drew him in and made him smile despite himself.

  “Goodness, I’m so sorry,” she said as she regained her composure. “I must have seemed like a wretched girl having such a strong reaction to some simple words.”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t. But why did you react so strongly?”

  She shrugged and the pleasure left her face. “Experience, Your Grace. We all have it, don’t we? And sometimes it’s impossible not let the past wheedle its way into the present and even damage the future.” She moved toward him again, carefully. “But now it seems that you and I are going to see more of each other. I’m so close to Emma, and if you are renewing your friendship with Abernathe we would not be able to avoid it if we wished to. So…so will you allow me to start again?”

  He nodded, though he was taken aback by her confidence beneath that shifting wallflower surface. It felt…familiar somehow, though he had no idea why.