Page 43 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“That was unfair.” He’d been terribly young and of tender feelings.

“Then she grasped my hand, dragged me into another room. She snatched the book from me, smacked me across the cheek, and sent me to my room without dinner. I never saw the book again.”

Adeline gasped. “That was horrid.” She swallowed a lump in her throat at the image.

“Not as horrid as what was planned for me thereafter. My father took me on a hunt the next day. And the day after that. And for the next month. He made me shoot game. ‘It’s the best way to become a man,’ he’d said. Looking back, I believe I was too tenderhearted to kill anything.”

“That was unfair as well.”

“Perhaps. I occasionally shoot, like many gentlemen, at Manton’s, but I dislike hunting.”

“The duke and duchess were wrong.”

“It was not all bad. Lady Heywood was one of the ladies in the drawing room that day and witnessed everything. She confronted the duchess, and they had a terrible row. Thereafter, my godmother became my champion. She protested that just because I didn’t express interests in the same activities as other boys my age—rolling in the dirt, spending hours tormenting their siblings, and stealing sweets from the kitchens—it was nothing to be ashamed of but encouraged. She snuck me books and I kept them hidden beneath a loose floorboard in my bedchamber.”

Adeline pictured a young boy on his hands and knees retrieving books from a hidden cavity and reading by candlelight in secret.

“The duke and duchess may not have understood me,” Warwick said, “but I didn’t fault them. I was not what they expected as their heir. Eventually, I found others with similar scientific interests at Oxford, men of great learning.”

“I see why Lady Heywood means much to you.”

“Yes. She is intelligent in her own right and a bit eccentric in her thinking. She is also determined to see me settled, not so much for the continuation of the title, although that is of great importance to her, but because she wants me ‘to be happy’.”

Adeline had a better understanding of his godmother. But learning more about Warwick’s past didn’t put her worries to rest. Her nerves were wound tighter than clock springs. If the lady was that protective of Warwick, then she’d be especially watchful of Adeline.

…

Adeline’s fingers clenched on the handle of the carriage the first time she saw Lady Heywood’s home. She knew her anxiety was unwarranted, but her nervousness increased the nearer they got.

It was a lovely Piccadilly home with cream-colored stone. She caught a glimpse of the well-maintained gardens through the gate. Flowering shrubs of azaleas and wild roses climbing trellises perfumed the air. A liveried footman opened the carriage door and Adeline climbed stone steps into the home. The vestibule was welcoming with cream marble and expensive artwork on the walls. She spotted a sporting painting of a stallion by George Stubbs, and a landscape from Thomas Gainsborough of ladies promenading through a park, their shimmering dresses capturing the light of a pink sunset. The drawing room was a pretty shade of pale yellow with striped yellow and gold drapes and a matching yellow velvet settee and sofa.

It was a luxurious and welcoming home, yet Adeline’s heart thumped madly, and she felt a terrible tenseness in her body as she awaited the arrival of Warwick’s godmother.

“What’s wrong?” Warwick turned away from a tall window overlooking a garden maze to address her. Dressed in a coat of navy superfine with a ruby pin in his cravat, he looked every inch a duke.

Adeline chose to sit on the yellow-striped sofa.

“You have nothing to fear from my godmother.”

She hoped her smile was noncommittal. “What makes you think I fear your godmother?”

“I’ve come to know you. For someone who can stitch a man’s gaping wound with nerves of steel, I find your current nervous state unnecessary.”

She’d thought she’d done a better job of hiding her distress upon their arrival, but apparently, he could tell. They hadn’t spent weeks together. She’d tended to his burn and toured his country workshop. They’d attended one country dance. He’d watched her work. How had he come to know her that well? It bothered her. She’d only begun to understand his complex mind.

As for his comment about her nerves of steel when she’d stitched the country carpenter’s thigh, those circumstances were completely different from this and—

Adeline stood and lifted her chin and met Warwick’s enigmatic green gaze. Her lips parted just as the drawing room door opened and a middle-aged woman walked inside, a smile upon her face.

“Welcome,” Lady Heywood said as she came forward to greet first Adeline and then Hasmik, before giving Warwick a hug and a kiss on his cheek.

Lady Heywood’s golden hair, fading gently to gray, was artfully coiffed, and her brown eyes were alert. Tall, slim, and dressed in a stylish blue gown, she carried herself with grace and command. Adeline knew the lady was a countess and a widow, and she must have been exceptionally beautiful in her youth.

“Thank you for allowing us to stay with you,” Adeline said.

“Her family home is busy with tradesmen coming and going. Building and repair is necessary, but quite noisy and disruptive,” Warwick added.

It was the excuse he’d given for Adeline not staying at her family’s home during her time in Town. She wondered if the countess would ask questions, but instead she simply nodded.