Page 45 of How Not to Marry a Duke

The countess’s expression changed. He should have seen it coming. Whether she’d unwittingly elicited a reaction, or he had loosened his guard, the effect was the same.

“Why do I get the feeling that you are keeping things from me? What exactly have you been up to in that country cottage, Daniel?”

“I didn’t know you wanted a detailed accounting of my daily activities. I have made progress on my work, specifically the pistons of the high-pressure steam engine—”

She raised a hand and leaned forward in her seat. “I may be old, but I am no fool. The lady is Lord Foster’s sister.”

She did recall. “Ah, you remember.”

“Of course I remember! You were disciplined by the Eton headmaster. It was only your third year at school. The duke was most pleased.”

He scoffed. “Most fathers would have been angry.”

“Yours was satisfied that you gave Lord Foster’s son a black eye.”

Edwin had stepped on his astronomy project. It had taken Warwick days to make the planets and stars from small sticks, acorns, and a golden painted apple as the sun. Warwick had experienced a thrill of satisfaction after putting the bully in his place, but he’d dreaded his father’s reaction. He should have known better.

“My father was proud I fought and made a boy cry. I didn’t know whether to be horrified or relieved that I had finally gained my father’s approval. All I’d done was escalate a deep-seated rivalry between Edwin and myself.”

“And yet you are courting Lord Foster’s sister?”

“Half sister. And no, I do not hold it against her. I didn’t think you would either.”

“Of course I don’t. I shall plan a party to celebrate your upcoming engagement.”

“We are not engaged.”

Her gaze glimmered with mischievous intent. “Not yet, Daniel. But if the way you looked at the lovely Lady Adeline is an indication, then it will happen soon.”

…

Adeline’s mind was awhirl as she descended the grand staircase. A maid waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. “Lady Heywood awaits your presence in the blue drawing room, my lady.”

The first drawing room had been yellow, and she wondered as to the significance of meeting the countess in a different room. She followed the maid, a young girl by the name of Beatrice, down the corridor and stopped outside a closed door. Beatrice bobbed a quick curtsy, then opened the door. This drawing room was just as lovely as the first one. The drapes were a pale blue and matched the shade of a well-padded sofa and two armchairs. The white marble mantel had two blue porcelain birds on either side of a gilded mantel clock.

The countess rose from her seat. “Good morning. I trust you had a restful evening?”

“Yes, my lady. My room is lovely. Thank you again for your hospitality.” A tea tray had been delivered with a tray of fresh scones with jam and clotted cream. Warwick was notably absent this morning.

Adeline joined the countess on the sofa and the woman poured her a cup of steaming tea. She could do this. She could smile and lie and maintain her poise, staying as close as possible to the story she’d concocted with Warwick.

Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the rich paneling and rosewood furnishings. The painting above the mantel caught her eye. An older man with gray hair and wrinkles by his eyes. His expression was softened with a slight smile.

The countess noticed her interest. “The Viscount Heywood, my late husband.”

“You loved him?” The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it. Her nerves had returned.

But the countess didn’t seem to take offense. “I loved him very much. He was twenty years my senior and we were married for only two years before his passing.”

An ache centered in Adeline’s chest. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Didn’t she long for a love match for herself? Her parents had loved each other. Her father had adored her mother, and he hadn’t cared that she was the daughter of a commoner.

Lady Heywood’s gaze remained on the portrait. “I hated him at first.”

Adeline blinked. “Truly?”

The countess turned back to her. “Oh yes. I thought him too arrogant, too selfish, too much a wastrel.”

Adeline felt the same about Warwick, except the man was no wastrel, just an academic. “What changed?”